Page 9 of What a Wolf's Heart Decides

“What did he change it to?”

“Minions memes. Every time.” He grimaced. “He also makes obnoxious videos autoplay when I log on. I had to carry the damn computer upstairs so Lizette could turn it off.”

Haley laughed. She couldn’t help it. The thought of the formidable Max hauling ass upstairs so his wife could fix his computer was too funny.

He chuckled with her. Then his expression grew serious, and his tone became reluctant. “I know you’ve struggled here. Struggled to make friends.”

“That’s not true.” She had plenty of friends.

“Besides Lizette, Remy, and the others.”

She shifted in her seat. “You mean the other trainees.”

He nodded. “They still won’t accept you, despite you making the Turn.”

Her humor drained away. It should be enough—making the Turn after an adolescence thinking she was doomed to latency. Such a thing shouldn’t have even been possible. For almost all of werewolf history, it hadn’t been. Then Lizette had come along. For years, everyone assumed she was a Healer. It was a useful Gift, and Healers were revered in every territory.

But Lizette had a second Gift—one that was so incredibly rare most wolves had never heard of it. She was a Bloodsinger, which meant she was capable of pulling a latent wolf’s beast forward enough to force the Turn. In fact, Haley had been her first “test case.” Although Lizette was a few years older, they’d become friends when Lizette moved to New York from California as a teen. Both orphaned at a young age, they formed an instant bond that had remained strong even after Lizette left the Lodge to attend college. It was during a long weekend visit at Lizette’s apartment that Haley had Turned.

At the time, everyone thought it was just a lucky coincidence. But Max had known the truth. The New York Territory was already famous for its high rate of Turned latents. After Haley, he realized it wasn’t just coincidence.

It was Lizette.

Haley looked at Max now. “I should be grateful. Not every latent gets a chance to make the Turn.”

His voice was soft. “No. But werewolves expect more.” He let out a sigh heavy with frustration. “Our birth rates continue to plummet, yet wolves still insist on matching their children to mates with superior Gifts.” The last was said with a snarl.

She gave a sigh of her own. “Yeah, well, I’d settle for an inferior Gift. As far as I know, I’m the only wolf in existence who doesn’t have one.”

And that automatically crossed her off any enterprising werewolf mama’s matchmaking list. Wolves valued the Gifts that made them dominant fighters—things like enhanced speed, hearing, or vision. Healers were okay in a pinch, but non-physical Gifts like Telepathy were undesirable.

And not having a Gift at all? Forget about it.

Max turned his head a little and nodded toward the letter on his desk. “Not everyone cares about that.”

Haley followed the direction of his gaze. “I don’t get it. She wants me to marry her son? Arranged marriages are sort of nineteenth century, don’t you think?”

He smiled. “Not in werewolf culture, they’re not. But she’s not asking for a wedding. She just wants you to visit.”

“And meet her son.”

“That’s right. Maybe go on a date or two. You’ll stay a month and then return home. Think of it like a vacation.”

Well, that didn’t sound so bad. Haley nibbled her bottom lip. “You said he’s a former trainee. Would I know him?”

Max shook his head. “I doubt it. He Turned four years ago, which was before you started training. Benjamin Rupert. Does that ring a bell?”

She searched her memory and came up short. “No. Do you remember him?”

“Vaguely. As you know, we accept trainees from all over.”

That was an understatement. The New York Territory was a revolving door for latents who hoped to Turn. Max believed everyone deserved a chance, so he was generous when it came to fostering young people from other territories. The Lodge was supposed to be a family residence, but the constant influx of trainees made it more like a cross between a frat house and a military academy.

In other words, it should have been the perfect place to find a date.

Should have been. As Max said, werewolf parents didn’t seem overly concerned about the species’ declining population. They just wanted their precious angels to marry someone with good genes.

Defeat coursed through Haley. She’d endured years of scorn at the Lodge, which was probably the most inclusive territory in the country. Why would she travel all the way to Washington for more of the same?

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