“No,” he said, and was surprised by the absolute certainty in his own voice. “Only with their mates.”
The word hung in the air between them, fragile and dangerous. He hadn’t meant to say it, but the moon was still singing its wild song in his blood, and the walls he kept around his heart were in tatters.
“Mates,” she repeated softly, her expression unreadable. “We’re back to that.”
“We never left it.”
He watched her process this, saw the analytical mind he admired so much click into gear. She didn’t back away from the word. She didn’t dismiss it as madness or fantasy. She studied it, turned it over, examined it from every angle with the same focus she applied to a security breach.
“What does that mean, exactly?” she asked. “For you. For us. You said before that you don’t do casual. That if you took me, you’d be claiming me permanently. But what does ‘permanent’ look like for an Alpha werewolf and a human?”
He should have expected this. Harper was a woman of details, of definitions, of clear parameters. She wouldn’t accept a vague, romantic notion of fate. She’d want specifics.
“It means a bond that can’t be broken. Not by distance, not by disagreement, not by anything short of death.” He hesitated, then added, “In my case, it also means you would be the Luna. The Alpha’s mate. You’d have authority within the pack, though how much depends partially on you and how the pack accepts you.”
“And you think they would accept me?” Her expression was carefully neutral. “Elder Howard seemed to think I was one step up from a stray dog.”
“Elder Howard is a traditionalist who fears change. But he’s not the pack.” He brushed a stray strand of pink hair from her cheek. “The pack will follow my lead. They will accept you.”
“Even though I’m human?” The question was soft, vulnerable.
“They will accept you because I have chosen you.” His thumb stroked her jawline. “And because I will not tolerate any disrespect towards you.”
“That’s… a lot of pressure.” She scooted away from him slightly, sitting up and wrapping her arms around her knees. “I came here to do a job, Adrian. I didn’t come looking to be the… Luna of a werewolf pack.”
“I know. Neither of us planned this.”
“Is that what this is?” She gestured between them. “Some kind of cosmic accident? The universe deciding it would be fun to mess with two emotionally unavailable people?”
He couldn’t help but laugh at her blunt description. “Something like that. Mate bonds are rare. They’re a gift from the goddess. The idea that every wolf has a perfect match somewhere in the world.”
“And you think I’m your perfect match?”
He looked at her—this brilliant, stubborn, ridiculously vulnerable woman with her pink hair and her sharp tongue and her complete inability to handle social situations she couldn’t analyze with charts. He thought of the way she’d stood up to theelders, the way she’d challenged him, the way she’d looked at him when he told her he couldn’t trust easily.
“I’m absolutely positive.” The certainty in his voice didn’t surprise him. On some level, he’d known from the beginning.
She digested this in silence, her forehead wrinkling in concentration. He watched her mind work, saw her running scenarios, calculating probabilities, weighing risks. This was her comfort zone—analysis, data, logical conclusions. He’d given her an entirely new kind of problem to solve, and he could almost hear the gears turning.
“So what do we do?” she asked finally, her eyes meeting his with that directness he found so compelling. “To make it official?”
“There are two aspects to it. First I give you a mating bite.”
Her eyes widened. “You want to bite me?”
Fuck, yes.His cock twitched at the mere thought. “It’s… more than a bite. It’s a mark. A claim that binds us together. Permanently.”
He half expected her to pull away. To tell him he was crazy. To demand her clothes and a one-way ticket off Monster Island.
Instead, she tilted her head, studying him with an unnerving focus. “Where?”
He blinked. “What?”
“Where do you bite me?” She gestured vaguely at her own body. “And is it like a hickey? Or are we talking a serious, needs-stitches kind of bite?”
A laugh burst out of him, startling them both. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed like this—genuinely,without restraint. She just kept doing that to him, surprising him out of the rigid control he’d maintained for years.
“No stitches,” he said, his smile lingering. “And the wound heals quickly although the scar is permanent.” He reached out, gently touching the place where her neck met her shoulder. “I would place it here, where everyone could see it. A sign to all wolves that you’re mine. Under my protection. Bound to me.”
