“You knew this. She told you she was your mate. You rejected her. She told you I fixed it. You must have found her nest in the woods. I can scent traces of her heat on you. You know all of this. But you’re deaf to it. Because you are getting in your own way.” My clenched fists shake. Fur has sprouted up my spine, and my bones are stretching, my muscles swelling. “Your wolf recognizes his mate,” she says. “I am my wolf.” The crone tuts. “Don’t start lying to yourself now, Alpha. Your wolf and you are like that mutt Eamon lets his mate keep in the backyard. You coexist.”
