“Because of your DNA?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never met another like me. We’re so rare there’s no statistic on how often our DNA percentage occurs in the wolf population.”
“Oh,” she said. “So it’s unlikely two of you would end up in the same pack anyway.”
“Very unlikely.”
“And if you’re that rare, is it like…less than one per wolf pack? So most have an alpha that’s fourteen percent wolf, like the rest of the pack?”
“Correct.”
“Sorry, I was curious. I don’t mean to pry into personal stuff.”
He waved a hand. “If something’s off-limits, I’ll say so.”
In no uncertain terms, she would bet on it. Though his words and posture were easy, Malachi was quite obviously the most powerful person she’d ever seen in her life. And his power wasn’t only physical. His nature, his authority, were somehow conveyed through his body language, his expressions, his voice…something not deliberate on his part but inherent.
A good wolf, Ezra had said. A good friend, a good leader. That’s who Malachi was to Ezra. He hadn’t described this physical sense of his friend’s power because to him, that was less important.
“One of Ezra’s oldest friends,” she said slowly, mischief tilting her mouth. “And willing to answer my questions.”
“Now wait a minute,” Ezra said.
“How old were you when you met?” she said to Malachi as if Ezra hadn’t spoken, wasn’t sitting there.
“Eleven,” he said, pointing to himself. He nodded at Ezra. “Ten.”
“Oh, this is going to be delightful,” she said.
Nineteen
Hecouldnameafew happiest days. There was the morning after his first full moon as a wolf, celebrating (on the inside) that hehadgotten Dad’s DNA and finally he knew it, finally he knew who he was. There was his first lesson as a wolf pup, out on a mountainside in the woods, soaking up the knowledge and passing the oral quizzes from his dad and old Arlo. There was the bonding of Cassius and Sydney six years ago, the bonding of Trevor and Kelsey two months ago.
And there was today, January 11. The day he brought his mate to meet the wolf pack.
For all he cared, Willow could ask Malachi anything about their shared growing-up years. Ezra loved listening to her questions, loved seeing her face light up as separate threads of information twined together in her head. She was like him that way. Making sense of a thing held more than reassurance for his restless thoughts. It was also fun, sort of a knowledge high.
“So most of you begin changing at thirteen?” she said.
“Yeah, it’s pretty consistent,” Ezra said. “Twelve’s a little young. Fourteen’s a little old. Aaron’s the oldest I’ve heard of; he’d just turned fifteen.”
“So you were thirteen?”
“Yeah.”
“Impatient too,” Malachi said. “Disappointed every month he didn’t change.”
Ezra shrugged. “I wanted to be a wolf.”
“Why?” Willow leaned toward him in her chair, as though she grasped the immensity of the question.
Casting his mind back to those days wasn’t hard. By nine years old he’d longed with everything in him to be a wolf. Every birthday came with the same question for his dad:“Maybe this year I’ll know?”And every birthday Dad responded with patience:“I know it’s hard to wait, Bob. It was hard for me too.”
“Of course I wanted the strength, the speed, the senses. That was a big piece of it, but…I also wanted to belong to the pack. To run with them under the full moon. And I wanted to make Dad proud. I knew how pleased he’d be if the third Robert Ezra Sterling was a wolf like the first and second.”
“That’s sweet,” she said quietly. “And also maybe a lot to put on yourself.”
Ezra shrugged, fidgeted, felt his cheeks warm. “When I turned twelve, Dad had to sit me down and tell me that being a wolf wouldn’t make me any more or less his son. That wolves are born by fate, not chance, and so if I turned out human then there was a reason for that too.”
