TRUE MATE REJECTED

Axel

I'm balls deep in Trixie, but I can't come. I've tried everything, from domination to trying different positions, but nothing's working. And if we can't come, we can't know for sure whether we're True Mates.

We've tried tilted missionary to get her G-Spot singing. I put her in my lap, but my legs went to sleep. We explored something she called "The Amazing Bee," where she was on top, squatting, which was supposed to allow me to explore different kinds of thrusts. But Trixie said my cock kept jamming against her cervix and it hurt, so she couldn't climax.

It might seem like no great loss. After all, we're friends, but we don't love each other. We're not even particularly attracted to each other. We're here because we got to talking about True Mates, and how you could know that person, the other half of your soul, your whole life and never know they were the mate to both your wolf and your human if you never fucked them.

I have my suspicions that you'd know it somehow, that you couldn't help but feel a soul-bond even without fucking, though you might not know what it was. But you don't get a True Mate mark until you come together-

literally. We were both bored and horny, so we thought we'd try it out and make sure. If it turned out we were True Mates, we'd laugh about how we were right in front of each other all along.

I've heard fucking a True Mate is like nothing else in the world, and seeing as how today we can't even reach the finish line, I'm guessing that once again, I've struck out.

It's entirely possible that I don't have a True Mate. In fact, most wolves don't. Just because I'm the Alpha of the Jacksonville pack, that doesn't increase my chances. I inherited the position, but it wasn't magically ordained. If the older wolf who challenged me soon after I took over had won, he'd be Alpha right now, not me. Fate doesn't choose a pack's Alpha.

Finally, Trixie shakes her head. "This isn't working, boss. I'm going to head home and finish up with my vibrator."

"You can use your fingers while you're here," I say, squeezing one of her little tits.

"Nah. I need a shower, anyway." She climbs off of me, and my cock lands with a sticky, wet splat against my belly. "Maybe next time."

"Sure," I say, peeling off the condom and tossing it. We both know there won't be a next time. Our connection doesn't work, just like none of the other empty lays have worked. Even when I come, it's a disappointment

when I look down and find my arm unmarked, when I feel nothing but the usual release of emptying my seed. No True Mate by my side to lead the pack. No heir to take over when I'm gone.

After Trixie leaves, I pick up my phone from the chipped-wood bedstand and see I missed a text. I'm thankful for the distraction-until I read the message. Then, my blood turns white-hot.

It's a text message from one of my wolf scouts, a guy named Tiva.

The vampires struck again. Six injuries. No fatalities... Yet.

I let out a low growl and snatch up my clothes. I've had just about enough of these fucking vampires. Taking a few deep breaths calms my anger. I direct a glare out the front window to my pack's wet little corner of Jacksonville, Florida.

A half-inch of water covers the road, as usual. At least we didn't get another mega-flood last night. Like many of Jacksonville's homes, the dull beige-colored house across from mine has boards over the windows. It's uninhabitable. Since my small house stands ever so slightly uphill from the houses across the street, I was spared from the last great flood. The house has miraculously remained intact despite the endless storms that hit this region, though I've spent way too damn many hours replacing shingles, shutters, and carpet.

I may be our pack's Alpha, but the bayous, swamps, and rivers are the land's true kings.

I squeeze my phone nearly to the breaking point, hoping to channel some of the rage I feel. "Fucking vampires," I mutter through gritted teeth. Fuck them and their bloodlust and lack of respect for our boundaries. Six of my pack are injured. At least no one died-this time.

Anger burns in my chest as I remember what happened the last time the bloodthirsty motherfuckers struck. My Second-the wolf with whom I'd explored, romped, and played with as a pup and adventured with as an adult-was killed.

Life without Phoenix has been brutal. We were always together- fighting side by side, covering each other's back, or whooping it up in the bars at night. Now he's dead.

They're going to fucking pay.

Fully intending to storm their lair and exact justice, I shove my phone in my pocket, don my clothes, and head out of the bedroom. On the way out, I shove my feet into my leather boots and kick open the screen door.

The door whacks against the side of the house with a satisfying crash, probably shaking loose a few ash-gray flakes of paint. One of these

days, I'm going to have to re-paint this house. But that day is not today. Today, I've got bloodsucker ass to kick.

"Temper, temper," comes a voice to my right.

I spin to find Ama, my new Second in Command, spread out on the porch swing, with one leg resting on the cushioned arm. Short and muscular, she reclines on the swing with her onyx hair draped over one shoulder and her left tit.

She lowers the supernatural gossip rag she's been reading and rests it in her lap. "Where you off to in such a fury?"

"The vamps struck again," I snap, fury pounding in my temples.

"Shit," Ama says, removing her leg from its comfortable position and sitting up straight. "Who's dead?" She finger-combs the long strands of hair still trailing along the front of her torso. It's a gesture she resorts to when she's agitated or nervous.

"No one, this time."

"And you're going to go kick some ass, am I right?" She stands and sashays toward me, placing her small hand on my bicep.

The too-familiar gesture makes me tense.

Ama regards me through thick black lashes. "Do you think it's wise to go off all half-cocked like this? Shouldn't you think things through?"

"You're probably right, but fuck that. I'm sick of this shit." I step back from her, and her hand drifts to her side.

She sighs the way she always does when I rebuff her affection. "You know," she begins, licking her lips. "If you'd take a mate, you'd be the strongest wolf in southeast territory. No one would fuck with our pack."

"This again." I tromp to the porch steps and lower myself onto them, with my booted feet two steps down.

The air outside is sultry and thick, like clotted cream, bringing instant sweat to my limbs and neck. Holding my head in my hands, I consider her words. Of course I need a mate. I'm already thirty, for fucks' sake. I should have mated years ago when I became Alpha of the Jacksonville pack. I just haven't found the right partner. Holding out hope for a True Mate is a romantic notion that I should have outgrown a long time ago. A True Mate is like a soul mate to a human. It's a wonderful thing, but you don't waste your life waiting for one to show up. True Mates are rare. Most of the other Alphas in the country don't have them. They chose partners who were strong, cunning, and politically connected. I need to do the same. It's long overdue.

Ama sidles over and sits next to me on the step. "You know," she says in a dulcet voice. Her fingertips trail along my forearm. "I'm available."

I withdraw my arm from her ministrations and brush the lingering sensation from my skin. I already fucked Ama and know she's not my True Mate, but she'd be a good mate nonetheless. The thought sits uneasy in me, though. I blow out a lungful of air. "That's real sweet. But you know I can be a handful."

"I can handle a handful," she says, walking her fingers up my arm.

Abruptly, I stand. "I don't have time for this right now. I've got a vampire problem to deal with."

Ama stands, too, a frown creasing her brow. "Don't get yourself

killed."

I hold up two fingers to my chest. "Wolf scout's honor."

I head for the beat-up old pickup, not looking back at what is sure to

be disappointment painted all over Ama's face.

Engine roaring, I speed down the wet street, spraying water in a rooster tail behind me. I have a new plan that doesn't include the fucking vamps.

At least not directly.

Once outside the city limits, I floor it and roar toward Wild Wolf Swamp, aptly named, since our clan used to live there. Now, it's nothing but a waterlogged cesspool where panther shifters hunt and old-timers like Sterlina Vayzen cling to their tiny plots of land and take refuge at Gideon's

Bar during floods. I wouldn't be going there at all except that Sterlina's the most powerful diviner in the area, and though I'm convinced I don't have a True Mate, I have to make damn sure before I choose someone else to fill the role. I can't imagine a worse fate than giving up and having a brood of kids with some other woman, only to then find my True Mate.

When I arrive at the witch's treehouse, a giant gator crawls from beneath her tree and waddles toward the water, where it slips silently into the murky, liquid embrace of the swamp. More gators make their presence known by the bulge of their eyes lining the surface of the water. Spanish moss drapes listlessly from the trees as if exhausted from the incessant heat, and vultures line each branch, watching as if hoping I'll turn into their next meal.

I hop down from the truck and stride toward the bell dangling from a tree branch, swatting mosquitos as I go. Grabbing the bell, I shake it back and forth, making it clang so loud that birds scatter from the nearby trees and wheel into the sky overhead.

"Think I don't know you're here already, shifter?" calls a voice like dried grass.

Shielding my eyes with my palm, I tip my head back to try and find her, but the sun prevents me from seeing anything but harsh light. "My truck's hard to miss."

"It's your scent that makes itself known, wolfie. That and your intention. You projected your desire to come and see me the second you stepped from your porch." A phlegmy cough rattles her throat. "You're not going to like the answer to your question."

I still can't see her. It's like asking the sun to give me information. "What's the answer? Tell me, and I'll be on my way."

"Not so fast. I need cash."

"How much?" My eyes sting from the sun's assault, but I don't look away. I've heard this lady's tough, but I'm a match for anyone in the area.

She names her price, and I curse under my breath. "I'll give you half that. It's all I've got."

"Full price."

"I don't have it."

"Then I don't have an answer for you. Go on then. Be off with

you!."

Nearby, birds chitter and rustle in the foliage surrounding her

treehouse.

I squint into the shadows of the thick copse of trees flanking her dwelling. "Come down so I can talk to you face to face," I say. "I like to see who's swindling me."

"If you don't have the cash, we have nothing to discuss," she says.

Her words sound like leaves rustling in the wind.

I dig into my pocket and retrieve a fat roll of cash. It's supposed to hold me until the end of the month. "I can give you two-thirds of what you asked."

"Nine-tenths," she counters.

"I won't be able to eat human food for two weeks," I say. My ears fill with silence. If I give her two-thirds of what I have, I can live on whatever we bring in from the hunt. Not ideal, but I've done it before.

A rope with a mesh bag slides down from her tree-top deck.

I count of most of my cash, place it in the bag and yank on the rope. "It's all in there."

"Good. If it isn't, you just lost a lot of money."

Sweat trickles down my neck and soaks my sleeveless shirt, and I swat more mosquitos as I wait. Above me, I hear a faint, steady swish of paper on paper as she slowly counts the bills. "All right, wolf boy, here's your answer."

"Are you sure you know my question?" Another round of silence greets me. I hope I haven't pissed her off enough to make her go back on our agreement after she nabbed my cash.

Several gators slide beneath the swamp surface, leaving a rippling wake where eyes once watched me.

"You have a True Mate."

My chest constricts, and excitement races through me. All those years of holding out weren't for nothing after all.

"Who is she?" I ask. "And where do I find her?"

"She is a wolf named Luna. Look around you, and you will find her."

"Luna?" I scratch my head, trying to remember if I've heard the name mentioned in any meetings with other packs. I know all the Jacksonville wolves, of course, and she's not among them. The only other wolves in the area are the poacher triplets who like to hunt on our territory to piss me off instead of finding unclaimed land to hunt. But that's a different story, and those fuckers are thugs who definitely don't carry a delicate wolf name like Luna.

I try it out in my mind. Luna.

It's the perfect wolf name, beautiful and ethereal, like a morning glory or a moth.

And here I am, waxing poetic at just a name. Since having my dick balls deep in Trixie didn't have the same effect, I can safely say she's definitely off the list of potential mates.

Hell, I don't even have to keep a list of potentials anymore. I don't have to pick a suitable mate to help me run the pack, give us heirs, and carry on the bloodline. I have a True Mate.

"I don't know a Luna," I admit to the witch. "Can you tell me where to find her?"

The sound of wood scraping wood meets my ears, as if a door has opened. Then, the door slams shut with a loud thwack. I blow out a breath. I know when I've been told to fuck off.

Damn it. I kick a stone as my boots crunch over the stones to my truck.

I have a name. That's it.

Still. Damn. After all this time, I don't have to wonder. I have a name.

I have a True Mate.

Excitement speeds my pulse as I hop into the cab of the pickup.

There could be countless women in the world with that name, but only one of them will be my mate. I won't know for sure until we mate, but I'm counting on having a real good fucking idea before that. They say when you meet your True Mate, the whole world shifts.

But then, they also say you might live next to them your whole life and never know. So, yeah, there's a fuckton of legends and lore around True Mates. Guess I'll know which parts are true when I find her.

I crank up the truck and ease away from Sterlina's domicile, heading home. The windows are down, and the wind rushes in my ears as I speed along the potholed road. I try not to look like a giddy teenager in love. I have a fucking True Mate. The best news I've had since I fought and kept the Alphahood from the last man who dared challenge me-Warrick Armstrong, who was banished from the pack for that stunt.

A True Mate will make me even stronger than choosing a mate on my own. Having a True Mate gives a man respect, as it's rare. I hope she's strong like me, a good fighter, a political strategist.

The only trouble is, I don't know who or where she is. Sterlina said to look around me, and when I asked again, she shut the door in my face. Guess I insulted her by asking what she'd already answered. "Look around you" doesn't mean shit, though. Was I supposed to look around right then, under her treehouse? Is Luna coming to the Jacksonville area soon? Or am I supposed to look for her across the country, across the world?

I'll fucking do it. I have to find her-the sooner the better. The vampires are getting way too fucking cocky.

Ama can help me find her. That's the sort of thing a Second does while I'm running the pack here. Only the last thing Ama wants to do is to find the woman who will fill the role she so desperately longs to fill

Luna

Standing knee-deep in murky swamp water, I thrust my bare hands into the catfish hole I discovered a second ago. Some of my wet hair lands in my eyes, making it hard to see. When my fingers curl around the slimy beast, I yank back, lifting my prize high.

"Gotcha!" I crow to the wriggling critter, avoiding its stinging spine. "Dinner is served."

Clutching the fish with both hands, I use my upper arm to push the hair from my eyes. Mama always tells me my light hair reminds her of the swamp buck's hair when it's standing in the sun. Then she always adds, "and your eyes are the color of the sky on a winter afternoon."

Right now, I'm guessing I resemble a drowned fox more than anything.

As I wade out of the water, hauling my bare feet from the mud with each step, a scream pierces the air. I stand stock-still, attentive. The dying fish flapping in my grasp jabs me with its dorsal fin, immediately flooding my hand with an explosion of venom. "You bastard," I say to the fish. I pick the spines from my skin with my teeth.

Another howl lances my eardrums.

"Mercy on the swamp dogs, that's got to be Mama!"

Still clutching the catfish with my now-swollen hand, I take off at a sprint. Nothing can happen to my mother-nothing. Mama has been through enough, and on top of that, she's all I've got. After losing Daddy to murder while I was still a pup curled in her belly, Mama broke with thesavage pack of demon-dogs nearby and headed for the safety of the swamp. We've been here ever since.

When I was young, Mama took care of me, filling me with the knowledge of every danger in the swamp, the skill to hunt, and the companionship of each other. She taught me that ogres might look scary, but they're harmless to us, since they only eat magic. She taught me how to know when a storm means rain and wind that could take down the little house I built for us six years ago on a hillock in the swamp, so we need to take everything we own and get up in the trees, where the water won't rise.

Most of all, she taught me that danger comes in the form of man, even when they wear the disguise of a panther or wolf. I've never spoken to a soul besides my mother in my life, though when Mama's not looking, I sometimes sneak a wave to the panther shifters in their fishing boats that glide silently through the swamp like gators. If more than one of them's in the boat, sometimes I hear them whisper to each other, "There goes Looney Luna."