Page 3 of Banished From the Pack
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.
