Page 19 of The Wolf's Mate

Aunt Imelda doesn’t look pleased. Who would in this situation? She had always hoped to plan a huge ceremony. But she nods all the same. “Thorne and Tallie will be your witnesses, then. Will you be participating in the chase?”

I shake my head. The chase is the most thrilling part of the ceremony. Where one mate stays behind while the other travels deep into the forest. It’s a game of cat and mouse that ends in fucking. Hettie is barely a willing participant in this bonding ceremony. I won’t subject her to that portion of it.

Even if I want it.

“They’re close; I hear them approaching. We best get ready.” Imelda grabs the books she needs for tonight.

Not even a full minute later, Tallie emerges from the darkness.

We aren’t far from town, maybe half a mile. The ceremony needs to be completed under the moonlight, so we set up a makeshift altar close to Imelda’s house. The trees here provide enough privacy. I wanted to be far enough away so no wandering wolf would happen across us, but close enough to reach if a problem arises. I don’t need an audience for this. This is duty. Nothing more.

Thorne emerges next, with Hettie by his side. I can’t help the growl that leaves my throat when I see him touching her, guiding her through the dark. Rationally, I understand why Thorne needs to have his hand on her, but my wolf wants the other alpha far away from our human.

Mine.

I asked Tallie to help Hettie get ready, and I thought that meant just a simple bath and perhaps warmer clothes. Of course, I should have expected my cousin to do more than I anticipated, just like her mother.

Tallie wears a peach-colored dress. The bodice is cut low, giving me a good glimpse of her full breasts. The dress flows down her body, hugging each curve as if painted on. Her hazel eyes meet mine, and for a second, everything around us drifts away.

I know the effects a human mate can have on a wolf from stories I’ve heard. How human mates could drive a wolf mad with lust and take away their ability to think straight. Hettie isn’t even bonded to me yet, and already I can feel my good sense leaving my body. The possessive part of my nature wants to ruin her. To claim her over and over again in front of anyone who would watch to prove this human is mine.

My mate.

Reminding myself that she’s here simply to save my pack stifles those thoughts of claiming. I won’t force sex upon her, no matter how badly my body might want it.

Thorne leads Hettie to me, big eyes darting all around as if something will pop out of the dark and harm her. After this morning, those feelings are valid, and I’m brought to shame once again. Hettie deserves to feel safe. As her mate, it’s my job to protect her.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

Hettie looks at me from under her long lashes. I sense her trepidation, and the need to reach out to assure her she’s completely safe is strong. But I also don’t want to lie to her. She’s not safe. Not as long as she remains here while my pack struggles with a curse and outside forces. Still, I tuck her hand in the crook of my arm, providing the only stability I have.

Thorne moves from the altar and goes to stand next to Tallie. It’s still so strange to see him wrap his arm around her. They are newly mated, and although Thorne is my best friend and I would die for him, I also want to hurt him when I see him with Tallie. Maybe that will pass.

“You look beautiful, Hettie,” my aunt says before glaring at me. “Doesn’t she, Rip?”

Right, I should probably say something instead of standing here like a fucking prick. “You do.” Imelda waits for me to say more, but I don’t. Not about Hettie at least. “Let’s get started.”

Hettie bristles beside me, and her hold on my arm gets tighter. I’m not sure if she’s aware she’s doing that. Imelda starts the ceremony, giving praise to our Moon Goddess and reciting the jargon that has been said at every single mating ceremony since the dawn of time. I only half listen because my focus is on Hettie.

I search her face for regrets. For anything that tells me she doesn’t want to be here. Our contract with Ender is binding, so I won’t ever be able to let her go back to her home, but I’m also not going to force a woman to mate me if she doesn’t want to. I’m not that kind of king. I can’t be that type of king. It would make me no better than Michael, using force and power to bend people to his will.

There’s trepidation in her expression, yes, but there’s something else. Acceptance, maybe? I fear calling it willingness, but it’s not sorrow like I thought I would see. This human is…interesting.

“Hettie, take this, darling,” Imelda says and hands Hettie a goblet full of murky white liquid. It’s not something I’ve seen before in any of the other rituals.

Before I can ask, Hettie beats me to it. “What is this?” She looks down at the milky substance in her cup and smells it. “It smells like honey.”

“Does it? Good, that’s what it should smell like,” Imelda says proudly. “That, my dear, is an ancient mixture packs would give their humans back when humans were more common amongst our kind. It gives you the ability to allow a mating bond to form. It also prepares your body for your mate.”

“Prepares my body? What do you mean?” Hettie furrows her brows and stares at the goblet like it’s about to sprout legs and walk away.

Imelda looks at me a second, giving me the option to explain. I sigh. There’s no polite way to say this, and I don’t have the ability to be tactful right now with my emotions heightened. “Alpha cocks are big,” I say, and I swear I hear Thorne snort. “We also knot our mates. Humans can’t take that unless they have assistance from the drink.”

Hettie’s golden-brown face turns ashen. Imelda levels me with a stern glare, and the all-too-familiar feeling of shame washes over me. I scramble to make it right. “I don’t expect sex, nor would I ever force you to do something you don’t want to do. You only need this drink for the bond to form. Nothing more.”

Everyone seems to hold their breath as Hettie looks between me and the drink again. She’s clutching it so tightly, her knuckles turn white. Then, as quickly as I blink, the alarm in her face drains away, replaced with a cool mask.

“It’s only for the mating bond to stick,” I urge.

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