Page 125 of Untamed

The wizened little wolf toddles into the house. Gnome. He is with the Pup, no?

"Are you alright, sweetie?" the Moon gently tilts my head, looking at the spot that Pup bit me. "We should clean this."

"Gentle, Lyri," Old Alpha says quietly. "She's delicate with two Marks on her neck." The Moon enfolds me in her arms again.

The wizened old gnome snorts. "Not that delicate, this one. A little witchy queen, eh?" He chortles like a strangled crow.

I feel delicate. I love Mama and like the Moon, but they aren't the ones I want holding me. My neck is painful. My body is aching, and chills are running up and down my skin, shaking my entire body even though I can feel the heat pouring off of the two females holding me, including Mama, and she has no wolf to warm her. I feel dizzy, and my stomach is pitching and rolling as if I've been tossed into the river again. I have to focus on something else. Anything else.

"Will Pup be better?" I ask.

"I hope so, little one," Old Alpha says quietly.

Poor Pup. He felt so lost. The trees even shook from the sorrow and terror he was locked in. The warning.Danger. Who would have thought that Pup was dangerous? This thing he is must be dreadful.

"What is MateLess?" I ask.

"It's a wolf born without a soulmate, little one. Or, they have lost their mate at some point. About one out of every ten wolves may be without their mate at some point, but a MateLess wolf is only about one in four hundred. There are solutions to being MateLess." Old Alpha's eyes drift over to Mama, and my she-wolf stops preening.

"How many wolves are here in Mactiir's pack?" I ask.

"Just over fifteen hundred. Not including our new friends outside," the Moon tosses a glare through the window.

"A soulmate is a wolf who is meant to complete you, to love you as their companion and partner for life," Old Alpha speaks to me, but his eyes are stuck on my Mama.

My Mactiir is my mate. "You... you bite your... yoursoulmate?" I feel my shoulders tighten up, my nose wrinkles.

"We do. It's called the Mark. Inuit has already Marked you, so Sarj's Mark is going away quickly, just like any other animal bite, but with the mating venom injected, it's hurting more."

"Am I supposed to bite Mactiir?" I blunder through what they are telling me. I'm still bewildered by the idea. It seems soviolent; savage, harsh,wild. Hypocrites.

My mind dances to Mama and Father. I'm careful not to look at Mama, not look for what I know isn't there and what I know is. Nothing of thisMarkstuff. But... Father did leave a wound, a bite that nearly killed her. Biting isbad. Canines are meant to maim and kill, not...Mark. I sniffle and feel the Moon rub my back soothingly.

"I explained this to her," the Moon says quietly.

Old Alpha sighs. "She was raised in isolation from a pack, Lyri. You have to explain everything more than once. Show her things. She'll get it eventually."

"I am smart," I flash my fangs at Old Alpha. Mama gives him a little huff of impatience, too. She taught me.

"I know you are, sweetheart." He flashes a grin at me, then winks at Mama. "But when everything is so new, you have a lot to catch up on, yea? You and your Mama." He eyes up Mama again. Those eyes crawl all over her like he wants to eat her up. She shifts, uncomfortable with those eyes on her. I flash fang at him.

His smile falters, but it creeps back, slow and wry. "You are protective of her, aren't you?" He ignores my slight hiss.

"She tried to Mark In. Little Luna couldn't make her venom," Gnome says to the Moon quietly.

Silence hovers over us. I don't understand what I was supposed to do, but somehow I feel this was my fault. I bit Mactiir like he asked, just like he did to me. Just like everyone keeps telling me I'm supposed to do. Why are they so upset, then?

"Why?" the Moon asks, hushed.

Old Alpha shrugs his shoulders. Then, to my surprise, he looks at my mama. "Snow? Any ideas?"

Mama shifts, uncomfortable. "No," but her eyes slide away from his, clearly lying.

A smile cracks his skin. "You aren't good at lying, my Dove." He draws her into his arms, away from me, ignoring my piqued growl. "Tell me, please?" his voice is different when he talks to Mama, softer, intimate. "Inuit is an alpha on the edge of violence, and our little luna is the only one who can calm him down. When we go to war with the BlueSnout, and we will, do you want her to have to fight at his side? To keep the beast reined and leashed at her hand? She needs to Mark him, Dove."

Manipulative; scheming, devious, slick. Clever Old Alpha. If I weren't so tired, I would take Mama home to the blue cottage right now.

"She is of nature. Of the forest," Mama finally says softly. "It isn't your Moon that needs to agree to this bond."

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