Page 104 of Werewolves and Witches AU

My face sours at the turn this conversation is taking. I did not expect that. And I really don’t want to talk about it. Generally, I’m not the type to yuck someone else’s yum, but in this case, I’m going to make an exception. The thought of Rowan mating another werewolf gives me major yuck. Capital letters YUCK.

“But did ye know we don’t have to? Did ye know that in exceptional circumstances, the wolf can choose a non-wolf mate?”

Uncertain and uneasy, but also now filled with a sudden and fizzy bubbling energy, I push myself upright. Rowan’s hand remains on the back of my neck.

“It’s rare, Milo, because that non-wolf has to be the perfect complement to the wolf. They have to be intelligent…”

His hand lowers to the junction of my neck and shoulder, and he rubs his thumb in circles there. It reminds me of earlier, on the roof, when he licked a stripe up my neck. I give a whole-body shudder, and Rowan smiles again. And this time, it reminds me of the kind of smile someone gives when they have a secret they’re just waiting for the right moment to deliver.

“There’s no scent gland, ye see, so the non-wolf has to have natural pheromones that appeal to the wolf. I love apples, by the way.”

I do too, but I don’t get what apples have to do with mates. I chew on my bottom lip. The action draws Rowan’s gaze, and he slides his thumb up to pry it loose.

“The non-wolf has to be brave; I’m talking the type of courageous that even the General’s Office dreams of, because my lifestyle isn’t for the faint of heart.”

Exasperated, and maybe possibly a tiny bit regretful of the speed I drank those margaritas at, I admit, “I don’t understand…”

“Ye, Milo. I’m describing who ye are to me. My wolf has chosen ye as his mate, and if ye’d do me the honour of forgiving me my earlier mistake, then I’m telling ye—promising ye—that in any future life, and on any possible timeline, I’d always choose ye.”

Everything grinds to a halt.

The stars no longer twinkle overhead, the candles on the table between us no longer flicker, and the waves in the ocean no longer tumble on the shore.

How can I be his mate? He’s a werewolf, a wonderful one, and he must have a mate out there somewhere.

“But…” I begin. “Aren’t you given mates at birth?”

Rowan chuckles, his eyes doing that crinkling thing. He’s the only vibrant thing here, it seems. “They teach ye that at witch school?”

I shrug.

“Naw, Milo. It’s not like that. Our wolves will be guided to some above others; we call it an affinity. It’s like… a deep tug toward someone that ye can’t always explain. But even still, there has to be all those points of compatibility I was telling ye about. So even with another wolf, if something’s missing, there’ll be no bond formed.”

My sigh of relief is loud, and Rowan’s returning smile is indulgent.

“But once the wolf finds that compatibility with another, that’s the bond that’s promoted. Anything else that may or may not have been just ceases to exist. So, ye’d never need to worry about someone else trying to take that spot from ye. If ye choose to be my mate, Milo, that’d be us sorted. But it is that… yer choice.”

Shuffling in my seat, I turn to face him, but the intimacy of the conversation and the hope that simmers inside me, coupled with his proximity, make it hard to maintain eye contact. I fiddle absently with one of the many pocket flaps of his combat pants. “What, erm… what does it mean? Exactly. Being a werewolf mate?”

Quietly, so as not to disturb this private bubble that surrounds us, Rowan says, “Ye’d officially become part of my pack. Ye’d be my family.”

Family. A slow and steady smile blooms over my whole face and is reflected in Rowan’s golden eyes. I wouldn’t just gain a mate—I’d gain a family. “Are both your parents still alive?”

“Aye, Pup. Alive and well, along with my three siblings and two nieces. Not to mention extended family, and the Dogs. Fair warning though, my sister Riley already knows ye exist, because it was she who chewed me out… Got me to see sense.”

My smile now splits my face. Three siblings and one of them is already Team Milo. Riley—I commit her name to memory, and make a mental note to bring her a gift pack of shampoo and conditioner. Oh, but wait, she probably lives in Scotland. Everyone lives in Scotland.

I dip my chin to hide my face, and tuck the longer strands of hair behind my ear, catching my fingers in my tunnel piercing. “Where… Where would…? Do you live there? In Scotland? When you’re not on a mission?”

Rowan’s big finger hooks under my chin. “I’m there, because without a mate, they’re my family. But my home, Milo, is wherever my mate is.”

Nodding, lip half wedged between my teeth, I ask, “So, I could still see Ethel?”

His grip on my chin firms. “I would never take ye from her. If we travel to Scotland, Ethel would be welcomed as family—because she would be.”

I huff a quiet chuckle. “Yeah, well, she did kind of adopt you when we visited.”

I straighten a little when I remember something else Ethel said. “She told me that I need a keeper. Being your mate, it is forever, right? You won’t cheat on—”