Page 43 of The Wolf's Mate

Thorne disappears inside the maybe-bear cave, but he doesn’t go alone. Grass runs after Thorne, and I whirl on Tallie. “What just happened? What do you think is in there?”

Tallie’s attention is on the cave, waiting for her mate to reemerge. “It’s an old legend of our people,” she says, like that explains everything.

I wait for her to say more, but when she doesn’t, I groan. “Tallie, please, focus. What is going on?”

Finally, Tallie turns her gaze to me. A look of wonder and curiosity plays across her expression. “There’s an old story of our people. A legend, really, of chosen ones coming to the pack’s aid during times of dire need. These people are called to what they seek by hearing a whistling sound. It is said the ones with the gift provided their packs with resources and guidance that others couldn’t. Not even the King Alpha.

“But there have only been rumors of these people in our history. Most were labeled as resourceful, and a few were even considered witches, but none of them were ever proved to be touched by our Goddess.”

I hear her words, but they are slow to register. Legends? Witches? Goddesses? I feel like I have been thrown into a fantasy movie and suddenly became the main character. It’s honestly not so far from the truth.

“What are you saying? That I’m hearing shit because some Goddess decided to bless me?” It seems outrageous and inconceivable. I’m a human from Grym Hollow. A woman who screwed up more times than I can count. I’m not worthy of whatever Tallie is talking about. Someone like Tallie or Thorne would fit the legends better. Nothing about me is remarkable enough to warrant such a gift.

Tallie opens her mouth to speak, but a bark from behind us makes us turn to see Thorne and Grass walking out of the tunnel. Thorne’s eyes are wide, mouth slightly agape, as his eyes find me.

“What is it?” I think the worst. Dead packmate? A rogue? Something else?

“Oh my goddess,” Tallie gasps, and my eyes drop to Thorne's hands.

I didn’t notice it at first, but it’s clear as day now. He’s holding two medium-sized bundles of purple flowers. “Are those?—?”

“Wolfsbane.” Thorne grins. “Yes, Luna, these are wolfsbane. Enough to save a few of our wolves.”

“Goddess blessed!” Tallie beams, throwing her arms around me, nearly knocking me on my ass. “You really are a true Luna! We have to go now and tell Rip!”

There’s so much more I want to say and ask, but before I can, Tallie grabs my hands and pulls me along. All the way back to the packhouse.

All the way back to Rip.

Chapter 20

Rip

There are many productive ways I should be spending my time, especially knowing my pack isn’t safe from Michael. I pride myself on the safety of my pack, but these last few weeks, I’ve felt little more than a failure. A King Alpha who cannot protect his pack is no alpha at all. Giving in to failure is exactly what Michael wants, though, and I refuse to submit to a traitor who goes against their own kind.

I could also spend my time finding wolfsbane to help cure the wolves withering away in the infirmary. My team of healers has been working around the clock to find something to ease the pain of the cursed wolves. There may not be another cure besides wolfsbane, but that doesn’t stop Lucielle from trying.

I should be with her now.

But no.

Instead, I’m pacing back and forth in the courtyard, dressed in a suit I’ve never touched before, waiting to have dinner with my wife. Conflicting feelings war inside me. On one hand, I shouldn’t allow myself the luxury of a date when my pack is suffering. But on the other hand, I need to strengthen the bond with my Luna. Rose and Malix said love is the only way to come out victorious in this war.

I don’t know if what I feel for Hettie is love, but it’s…something. Fragile. Breakable. Explosive. I don’t know what to think about my feelings toward my wife, but I know she’s mine.

“Where are they?” My voice comes out as a sneer. From my peripheral vision, I see Thorne smirk. He stands on guard just a few feet away from me. I have him here to calm me, but it’s not working. Unfortunately, Thorne is in my line of fire.

“They should be here soon. Perhaps a drink of champagne will ease your nerves.”

“Perhaps not,” I hiss. If Thorne takes my attitude personally, he doesn’t show it. He knows me well enough to know I’m not angry at him. I’m not truly angry at all, but rather restless. I don’t think that will go away until I see Hettie.

As if thinking her name brings her into existence, I feel her near. Our bond is weak, but it’s enough to know she’s made it back inside the packhouse. The soft smile on Thorne’s lips tells me he senses Tallie. Under normal circumstances, I would make fun of his obsession with his mate. That was before I had one of my own. I get it now. Maybe not on the same level as Thorne and Tallie because they fell deeply in love before mating, but the things I feel for Hettie…make me absolutely feral.

The smell of Hettie perfumes the air, lavender reminding me of a spring day, so out of place in our wintery weather. I turn in time to see Tallie walk through the glass doors. She gives me a wink before stepping out of the way, exposing my wife.

Our eyes meet, and time stops.

Hettie wears a floor-length red gown. The billowy sleeves are sheer, cuffing at her wrists. The bodice of the dress hugs her curves perfectly and flares out around her hips. Tallie piled Hettie’s raven-colored hair into a low bun; a few dark strands frame her face. A peach blush tints her cheeks, and her lips remind me of ripe strawberries.

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