The gods designed them to experience very little desire until the conditions were right for them to go into their first heat. However, male wolves were designed for ultimate imprinting when they sensed their one true mate. This meant that while males often fell for their mates at first sight, she-wolves often either didn’t realize on a completely conscious level they’d met their lifelong partner — or worse, simply didn’t feel the same way. Before the Heat Laws took effect, this incongruence of deeper feelings before heat was often resolved with a wolf mating.
But the Terrible Belfast Mess had taught us how bad an idea that was, when it nearly started a civil war among three of our then four kingdoms. The fallout had left me to reason with our prophesied — but still unheated — queen as best I could, given her ignorance of both our ways and her role in the Prophecy.
“It is true we have stolen you from the Scottish Wolves, yes,” I conceded. “But we will not mate you against your will.”
My royal face reddened. It felt ridiculous to say this out loud with Wild snorting down her scent, his eyes glowing like the predator he was underneath his human overlay. But still, I felt duty-bound to tell her, “We’ve a set of guiding rules in Ireland referred simply to as the Heat Laws.”
She scrunched her pretty face. “What does that mean?”
Wild raised his head from his aggressive scent work to answer into her ear. “It means ye’re safe from us. At least until yer wolf tells us otherwise.”
She tightened her jaw and turned to address Wild directly for the first time. “I promise you, my wolf will never tell you otherwise.”
Wild tipped his head and got directly in her face. “If ye’re trying to make me even more excited about claiming that sweet cunt of yers, keep talking, Flower.”
According to the Tríbéirríthe source’s report, the Wölfennite she-wolves had grown up so cloistered that they didn’t know much modern slang. But our Mairinua must have understood every word of Wild’s vulgar reply.
She finally shoved him from her, shouting, “You’re disgusting!”
Or at least she tried to shove him away. Wild barely budged under her tremendous push. Just replied, “I’m also yer king.”
Instead of further engaging in their argument, she took another hugely deliberate step away from him.
“Wild,” I said before he could close the space between them again. “Let her have her room. She is not used to us yet.”
At his True King’s command, Wild remained where he was. But his gaze stayed on her, feral and glowing, like a beast tracking prey.
She glanced at him warily before turning to face me again.
"You should know," she explained, her gaze studiously affixed on mine, "we do not believe in or adhere to awolf hierarchy. Moreover, our community hasn't had a non-mated she-wolf go into heat in nearly three decades. First pregnancies occur exclusively with wolf matings. Even my sister, the Scottish Queen, was wolf-mated — accidentally wolf-mated. But still…"
“Are you trying to convince us to change our Heat Laws to allow for wolf matings, then?” Wild asked with a considering look.
“What? No! I’m explaining to you why this plan of yours will not work." She threw Wild an irritated glance before turning back to reason with me. "If you’re serious about not forcing us into cages on the full moon, you should just let us go.”
“Just the Wölfennites?” I said more out of curiosity than consideration. “Should we keep the Scottish she-wolves we nabbed, then?”
“No, you should letallof us go," she answered without hesitation. "I don’t know what kind of mental gymnastics you did to justify pulling this kidnapping business a second time on that poor Scottish community. But they are still indelibly scarred by what happened back in the 1500s. And it's the Wölfennites' fault that they weren’t able to defend themselves against your attack. The Scottish she-wolves deserve to go home even more than we do. And if you turn this boat around and drop us back off, you can end this here. We’ll be shaken, but no one will be hurt.”
No, my wolf was no longer thrashing inside of me, but my human was struck speechless, nonetheless.
“Did ye hear that final argument to serve as our banríon, Sea?” Wild’s mouth spread into his first sincere smile of the conversation as he gave echo to my own thoughts. “Upset as she was, she calmed herself and got right to gabbin' sharp on behalf of her subjects, she did. Effortless bit of queenin’ if ye ask me. And when ye add that bit in about her being best mates with the Tríbéirríthe potential, I don’t see how Dublin would find it any different.”
She glanced between Wild and me. “I don’t understand.”
Despite the fierce wind whipping my warrior braids to the side, a gentle breeze flowed through my chest as I told her, “We like the way you advocate for your people —allyour people.”
Her expression became hopeful. "Oh! Does that mean that you’ll let us go?”
Until Wild informed her, “It means he’s never letting ye go, Flower. Ye've convinced him not to, surer than sure.”
He spoke no lies, but I cursed Wild for the way her beautiful face crumbled.
“No,no! You have to let Sadie out of that box!" she insisted."And you must take us home.”
She looked at me, her eyes pleading for mercy and reassurance that I would be more reasonable than the feral wolf who had to be commanded not to overwhelm her.
But even with my wolf now cowering inside of me, I felt compelled to insist back, “Wearetaking you home,Mairinua. And Wild spoke true, we will never let you go. Especially after having met you properly face-to-face.
