Page 1 of The Wolf King's Mate

one

ASPEN

I heldmy breath as I sprayed myself with far too much perfume. Fletcher, my brother, watched from the doorway. His arms were folded, and the concerned crease between his eyes looked deeper than usual.

He was the biggest werewolf I’d ever met, and none of us came in size small. Including me.

Fletcher and I had the same light skin and brown hair, though his was cut short and I’d had mine highlighted to match most of the human women who lived with the pack.

I needed to blend in, even though the bleach had smelled so bad my eyes stung for days afterward.

“Just spit out whatever you’re thinking, Fletch,” I said.

He was silent for a moment.

I waited.

He finally spoke. “You know running is a risk. Your scent gets stronger when you sweat.”

“Everything is a risk.”

Fletcher grunted in agreement. “Maybe this is one you should reconsider taking.”

“If I stop running, my wolf is going to break through my skin and show herself to the world. Running keeps her satisfied enough to stay quiet. Stopping isn’t an option.”

“I’ll start going with you.”

“Your pack already thinks we’re weirdly codependent.” Fletcher was the Alpha of the second largest pack in Crimson River, which kept me safe. Our city was packed full of werewolves, who usually only came in the male variety. Which was why I was in danger.

Being a female werewolf made me a fluke. And in a city full of wolves, that was far from ideal.

“Weareweirdly codependent,” he grumbled. “And it’s the only reason you’re still alive and free.”

Free was a loose description of my life, but it wasn’t technically untrue.

I set my perfume down and started braiding my hair back. “I never said it wasn’t. But you know it would make people ask questions if you started running with me.”

He ran a hand through his hair, spiking the short strands up in the process. “If the king catches your scent…”

“He doesn’t run through our part of the forest,” I said firmly.

We didn’t need to talk about that.

If the werewolf king caught my scent beneath the perfume, he’d realize what I was, and he would do one of two things.

He would either force me to join his pack—he collected strong werewolves like they were prizes—or he would lock me up and let his scientists experiment on me.

Probably the latter.

“You don’t understand,” Fletcher growled. “You haven’t met him. He’s fucking unhinged.”

He had been trying to get Fletcher to join his pack since we were teenagers. Fletch was the strongest wolf left in the city outside the king’s pack. They were known as the Savage Pack, and they killed first, asked questions later. They also ran the city’s law enforcement, along with who knew what else.

“I believe you, but he doesn’t run in our forest. We would smell him.” I tied the end of my braid and stood up.

The only way I was ever going to be truly safe was if I left Crimson River. But living with the humans would literally drive my wolf insane, so that wasn’t an option any more than handing myself over to the king was.

Someone knocked on the door of the cabin Fletcher and I shared.

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