Chapter 3
Jack’s POV
Morning comes early when you carry the weight of a pack’s future on your shoulders. As Alpha Prince of the Salt Rock pack and the one who will one day sit on the throne, there is no such thing as a lazy dawn. My father has been training me for years—grooming me to take over his duties so that when he steps down, the pack will not falter. The elders respect him; I want them to respect me the same way.
In werewolf years, twenty-six is old enough to have a mate. Most male werewolves find theirs between sixteen and twenty-two. I have searched every corner of the territories, visited every pack village, followed every whisper of fate, and still—nothing. I assumed my mate was simply not of age, that she hadn’t shifted into her wolf self yet. For years I satisfied the body and nothing more, sleeping with women when the need rose and dismissing the rest. It never changed the ache inside. The spark I saw in other men’s eyes when they spoke of their mates? It never struck me.
I even considered settling for familiarity once—my friend’s cousin. But she is cunning and cold. A queen must be kind; she must love children and care for the pack. I couldn’t imagine a future Luna who lacked warmth.
That night I didn’t feel like being anywhere near the mansion in Pack City. I needed the lake; I needed the wind and the pull of the wild. I stripped down and shifted—big and fierce, my wolf larger than most. The transformation raged through me, bones reshaping, muscles knotting into strength. In wolf form I outran every shadow. I ran past the lake and into the trees, moving so fast a human eye would only see a blur. I let the pack instincts loose and cleared the dark from my head.
Then the scent hit me, soft, sweet, unfamiliar. It wasn’t floral; it carried something else, something like warm honey mixed with a delicate flower. I lifted my nose to the air and followed it toward the road. A car sat by the shoulder. A human scent mingled with the one I’d caught, and there she was: a girl standing beside the vehicle, hair falling loose over her shoulders as she stared off into nowhere.
My inner wolf shouted. Mate. We had hunted for years and never found her. I wanted to leap out and mark her there and then, but I could tell she was frightened. She flinched when I stepped on a branch, one soft snap and her eyes met mine. She closed them for a few seconds, and I remembered every leash I’d worn. I backed away into the trees and let the wild calm me, forcing the wolf to patience.
When she drove down the dirt road to the farm owned by Buck—Uncle Buck, someone I recognized from trade dealings—my heart thudded in my ribs. She kissed Buck on the cheek the way people kiss relations; she belonged here, at least for a while. I watched the lights from the farmhouse blaze to life as they carried her boxes inside. For the first time in years I slept knowing she was close.
The next morning I couldn’t keep the restlessness at bay. I went straight to my parents’ mansion and told them I had news. Breakfast in the garden was ritual—coffee by the dam and the early sun on our faces. My parents smiled, the kind of smile that made me remember why I wanted to be a leader like my father. I told them the truth: I had found my mate.
They reacted like any parent would...surprised, excited, and cautious. When I explained she was human, their smiles vanished into thoughtful frowns. A human mate was unheard of; our laws say humans cannot know who we are. A mate who is not one of us would change everything. My mother tried to soothe me. “ Perhaps the Moon Goddess has a plan,” she said, and my father, with a glance and a slow nod, agreed. They wanted to meet her. I wanted that too, but not yet. She didn’t know what I was. I would move slowly and carefully, learning her heart before revealing the truth.
A pack meeting later that day stalled halfway through when the scent of her reached me again. I excused myself and took Matt, my Beta—along. He came because he is my right hand; he is also the best listener a man could have. I sent him back to keep watch while I crept to the lake. From the shade of a tree I watched her swim. She was beautiful in a way that had nothing to do with looks and everything to do with motion, how she moved in the water, how the sun caught her hair. I had never wanted anything as badly as I wanted her in that moment.
I acted on impulse, stupid, reckless, human impulse. I slipped to the branch where her clothes hung and took her shirt. It felt absurd and old-fashioned, a token gesture I couldn’t explain. Then I retreated to my hiding spot, heart hammering. Watching her on the shore, I wanted to tell her everything and nothing at the same time.
When she finally gave up searching and lay down to sun herself, the horse tied near the trees spooked as I moved to the trunk. She startled and rose quickly. I let the horse calm, soothing it with gentle hands before revealing myself. The sound made her turn, and when our eyes met, heat leapt through me.
I should have told her then. But I didn’t. I wanted to give her time to breathe. I wanted to learn the edges of her laugh and the deepness of her stories. Instead, we spoke, clumsy at first, then easier as the minutes fell away. I remembered every word. When I finally reached for her hand and helped her up, sparks flared through me like lightning. I mounted the horse and lifted her into place behind me, feeling every curve of her body against my back. Her scent—my scent—seemed to sing to the wolf in me.
I kept my distance that night because restraint is its own test. I watched as she waved goodbye and walked away, and it felt like being cut in half. Yet I promised myself I would be patient. She didn’t know.
The following day, I went to find my parents again. I told them what I had seen and asked their counsel on how to approach a human mate. They reminded me of pack law, of history, of the dangers. But in the quiet of the drawing room, my father’s hand on my shoulder, I understood this was my path. I would protect her. I would teach her when the time was right. I would not force her.
