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“Liya here is convinced she’s going to happen upon her fated mate at one of these dances,” Vera informs me, grinning wildly at her friend.

“Fated mate?” Why is it the longer I’m here, the more I feel like I know absolutely nothing?

“Wolf thing.” Liya shrugs. “We can love a hundred different souls but will always be starved for the one soul who is so deeply connected with our own it’s literally imprinted in our DNA. It’s so strong it ties your wolves together in a bond that will forever be unbroken. Or so we’re told, anyway.”

“You don’t know?”

“Finding your fated mate is a rare gift. It’s a big world, after all, and everything has to line up perfectly. Right day, right place, right time.” She sighs. “We’ve never met anyone it’s actually happened to.”

I look at her, seeing a girl who desperately wants to believe she’ll experience that deep rooted love they’re talking about. I hope she finds it one day.

CHAPTER TWENTY

RHENN

How many brain-dead wolves does it take to manage one stowaway human? Answer: seven.

They parade her around, leading her from one boutique to the next. She’d looked excited for it initially but now seems rather disinterested. Not big into shopping, it would seem.

I step into the market across the street, slowly striding down the aisle of bread while I stare through the large store window. She’s wearing shorts, which show too much of her legs, and a teal top that makes her multicolored eyes pop. Even from across the way, I can see the definition in each of them, the depth and vibrancy that captures the light in such a way which draws you in. It’s her dominion. A weaker man’s kryptonite.

Just another reason for my disdain.

“Please, Mama.” A small voice catches my attention. I turn, looking down the long lane, and a smile creeps over my lips.

This is a welcome distraction.

“Not this time, honey,” the hum of the child’s mother comes from behind him, her tone low and sweet.

Tyrus, the little boy, pouts his bottom lip, crossing his arms in defiance. I can’t help but laugh.

“Giving your mom a hard time, are we?” I ask, making my way toward them.

Tyrus catches my eye and gives me a cheerful grin. “Rhenn! Look, Mama, it’s Rhenn.”

“I see that,” Sabian answers smoothly, ruffling her fingers through Tyrus’ wavy red locks. “How are you, sweetie?”

“Been better,” I admit, thinking of tomorrow’s festivities.

All orders have their yearly traditions to bring everyone together. We vampires have The Hunt. The sirens have their Midnight Calling. For the witches, it’s the Centennial. I can only assume that’s why the pack is out with my stray, preparing her for an event she wasn’t invited to. At least, not one I had intended on her partaking in.

She hadn’t come home after the bonfire. Seeing who she left with, and who she’s out with today, I know exactly where she stayed. I’d known the moment she fell into the mutt’s arms.

Fucking dogs.

“Yeah? You look tired. Have you been getting much sleep?” Sabian asks, pulling me from my chaotic thoughts.

It’s funny, she’s only a few years older than me, yet she still carries that motherly concern.

I shrug, glancing into their mostly empty cart. A rush of sympathy douses through me, knowing this is probably all they are going to buy.

Times have been more than hard for the newly widowed woman and her only child. Harder even due to the way it became as such.

“Let me get that for you. And whatever else you need.”

Sabian shakes her head, her brown hair falling into her face. “You got us food last month. We couldn’t possibly⁠—”

“And I’ll get it for you next month and the month after that.” Tyrus shimmies away from his mom, moving to stand at my side. It warms something in me, and I place a hand over his shoulder. “It wasn’t really a suggestion. I want to help.”