THORN
The double doors of the temple slam shut behind the Shadow pack’s female.
The virgin.
I’ve been attending the Mating Trials for nine seasons, nothing surprises me anymore. Fights. Betrayals. Frenzied bonds that didn’t last the moon cycle. But never this.
A virgin female making it to mating eligibility? Well … it’s unheard of.
Now, every male in the room is on edge. Olcan is salivating as he watches her leave after just disrespecting her and her brother. A virgin wolf is an omen. It’s said to make a great, devoted mate. Plus, a rare blessing like that sets off every primal instinct in this place.
I’ve never really thought about it being a possibility. I’m more interested in the promise of the trials bringing me a fated mate as they were designed to do. I couldn’t care how many partners the female has had.
Virgin. I assumed the child with her was her son, but if she’s a virgin, who is he to her? The fact that she would bring him with her to something so sacred tells me that he’s special to her.
“Virgin. Virgin blood,” the elder priest murmurs, his hood still fallen back, forgetting his carefully constructed ceremonial persona.
The hushed, and not-so-hushed whispers slow and then cease.
The priest collects himself, lifting his head slowly, eyes gleaming under the moonlight.
“Virgin blood spilt in the holy temple under the moon is a divine sign.” He breathes, voice nearly reverent.
“This 100th season will be the best yet, yielding powerful unions that sire hearty offspring that will lead a nation. The trials will continue with this great moon blessing. Tomorrow is the first trial; Howl will commence… meet in the great valley when the moon is at its highest point.”
He bows his head and disappears through a side corridor, muttering with the other red-cloaked priests like carrion birds circling a fresh kill.
The room buzzes in his absence. Meat is passed, cups refilled, and conversation resumes as if this very room wasn’t rocked by this revelation.
As if this poor girl didn’t just make herself the target of all the males across four packs.
Olcan leans over to Koa. “Can you believe we have a virgin this season? How many wolves do you think will be heading for her?”
“All of them.” Koa rolls his eyes as if it’s obvious.
“Yeah, a virgin mate on the 100th anniversary of the trials, that’s got to be a sign,” Olcan returns. I don’t like his tone. His determined voice almost insinuates the blessing is for him.
Protectiveness rises in my chest. I don’t look at them as I state, “Silence, you two. Only an idiot would choose a mate based on how many partners they’ve had.”
Olcan smirks. “Don’t pretend you’re not thinking about it, Alpha. You’ll be sniffing after her same as the rest of us.”
I turn, cold and slow. “I won’t chase anyone who isn’t meant for me. That’s the entire purpose of the trials, to find a mate — not a trophy. You’d be wise to focus on that.”
He laughs. “Maybe that’s why you haven’t chosen anyone in a decade. Too busy waiting for fate while the rest of us are making things happen.”
“And maybe that’s why none of your pairings last.” I sigh. “You treat this like a game. All while you forget the consequences.”
The brothers snicker to each other and include Steele across the table from them, and I catch the word ‘unworthy’ once, but I’m past the point of caring.
Truth is, I’m slowly starting to lose faith in the legitimacy of the trials myself.
Nine seasons I’ve stood in this very temple. Nine years of faces. Names. Scents. Nine years of almosts. I’m starting to think the gods don’t care.
Maybe I should stop waiting for their blessing; grab a mate and sire offspring to preserve my line. Have I been a fool to believe the trials were sacred?
It is time I stop fooling myself. For if I don’t find a fated mate, I’ll make a choice and take a mate to sire a legacy.
This tenth season will be my last.