by Bru Baker
The words had spilled lightning fast out of Tate, and Adrian was struggling to keep up. Tate thought he was broken? Adrian’s mind churned over the words. Tate hadn’t once said he wasn’t interested in Adrian—just that Adrian shouldn’t be interested in him. He wasn’t sure what the “mumbo jumbo” Tate mentioned was, but he could guess. Adrian had grown up with the stories about Turn bonds that lasted a lifetime, and the romantic in him had always hoped they were true. As an adult he’d dismissed lifetime bonds and other fairytales as nothing more than myth, pretty stories to encourage Weres to mate with other Weres, keeping the gene pool strong. But what if they weren’t?
Adrian wasn’t firing on all cylinders yet, and he could see how uncomfortable the conversation was making Tate. “I’m still really confused,” he admitted, “but I don’t think we’re going to sort anything out like this. I need to call my family, and maybe we can talk again tonight.”
Tate’s shaky breath was all the confirmation Adrian needed.
“If you have something to do, I won’t keep you here. Maybe I’ll try to go talk to Kenya after I get everything sorted out with my mom.”
Tate straightened from his slouch against the door. “She’ll be able to explain everything better than I can. I’m in session all afternoon, but I can come by her office after dinner. Maybe this would be easier on neutral ground.”
That sounded pretty damn ominous, but Adrian didn’t push it. If Tate didn’t want to talk here, he’d honor that. This was Tate’s home, after all. Adrian was just a visitor.
His chest twinged at the thought of leaving in a few weeks like he knew he’d have to. He added that to his mental list of things to ask Kenya about—this sudden and heavy attachment to Tate.
Tate rapped his knuckles against the doorframe with a nod in Adrian’s direction and then retreated down the hallway. Adrian stood stock-still until he heard the cabin door swing shut and then retreated to his unmade bed to sit. Standing for the short amount of time he’d been up had taken a lot out of him.
He needed food, he realized. He’d call home to update his mom, grab a shower and get dressed, and then wander around in search of something to eat. He felt better having a plan, even if it was just a loose one. The tightness in his chest eased, and he got up to grab his phone from the dresser to make what he was sure was going to be one of the most interesting phone calls of his life.
ADRIAN hated psychologist’s offices, but Kenya’s was more inviting than any he’d been in before. Hell, Kenya herself was nothing like the half-dozen therapists who’d come before her, trying to pry into Adrian’s brain to figure out why he hadn’t Turned as a teenager.
It still wasn’t a comfortable place to be, and Adrian had to tamp down the inclination to bolt. Seeing Kenya was part of the program here at the camp, and he’d be a fool to try to pretend he didn’t need someone to talk things out with.
Which was why he was surprised when she started off talking about Tate instead of him.
“Tate has given me permission to share some of his personal history with you,” Kenya said after she’d settled Adrian into a cozy chair. “Normally anything a patient says to me is in complete confidence, but this is a bit of a different case. I want you to know that unless you give me similar instructions, everything we talk about today is just between the two of us. You are under no obligation to give me permission to share what we talk about with Tate, and he knows that.”
She leaned forward and put a hand on his knee, squeezing it quickly before releasing it. “And that goes for your Alpha too. I won’t share anything we talk about with anyone.”
She settled back in her chair and took out a notebook. “Let’s talk about you. I’ll be your counselor while you’re here, which means you can come to me with any problems you’re having. They don’t have to be about the Turn—they can be about anything. How have you felt today? You’ve been through a lot of big changes, and you’ve lost some time because of your exhaustion. Are you disoriented? Frustrated?”
He was plenty frustrated, but it didn’t have anything to do with his Turn. “I’m wrapping my head around it,” he said, the automatic response he’d given to everyone he’d talked to today. There had been a parade of phone calls; the one to his mother had just been the tip of the iceberg.
“Adrian,” Kenya said, her tone stern. “It’s a lot to absorb, yes. But you are a grown man who’s suddenly thrust into a second puberty. Your life has been disrupted by the Turn twice now, once when it failed to happen and again when it did happen. You are allowed to be conflicted.” She folded her hands in her lap and looked at him expectantly.
“I’m not conflicted about finally Turning. This is—” His voice broke, and he took a moment to compose himself. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. And I accepted it wasn’t going to happen and made my peace with being human.”
“But then the rug got ripped out from under you.”
He nodded. “And I’m thrilled. Like, I don’t even have words. I still can’t believe this is happening. But it’s complicated. And this thing with Tate—that’s complicated too, especially because I’m not sure what’s going on.”
“And how does your Alpha feel about everything?”
Adrian’s talk with his mother had gone well earlier. She was, to borrow a human phrase, over the moon at his Turning. He was sure she’d already started planning an epic coming-home party for him. He’d mentioned the Turn bond as part of his assurances that his Turn had gone smoothly, since she’d been worried. But something had stopped him from naming Tate when he’d talked about it, and he also hadn’t gone into how he and Tate shared an abnormally strong Turn bond.
He’d told himself he didn’t want to cause her any undue anxiety, but really he just didn’t want to share any part of Tate yet—and that included his existence. It felt too new and too huge, paired with how uncertain everything was at the moment, to talk about with her. She’d want to know what would happen next, and the truth was he didn’t know.
Maybe Kenya did.
“I haven’t told her about Tate. Is he coming?” Adrian asked, looking around for a clock. There were none. Kenya’s office was done in soft tones with light, overstuffed furniture, and not a clock to be seen.
“Tate is planning to join us in a bit” she said. “He didn’t want to be here for this part. Understandably. It’s important for you to know Tate’s history, but he doesn’t like talking about it. Tate’s childhood….” She appeared to be searching for how to continue, and Adrian held his breath, waiting for her to finish. “It wasn’t like yours, or mine, or anyone’s really.”
Adrian’s childhood had been wonderful. Two loving parents, child of the Alpha, homeschooled by his father, who was a teacher, until high school, then sent to an expensive private school. Siblings and cousins to play with. A house that was always full of laughter.
“He grew up in Idaho,” she said, making eye contact with Adrian like that should be significant. He racked his brain, but it wasn’t. He shook his head.
“Tate cut himself off from his family after he Turned. It took him a few moons to gather up the resources to leave, but he’s been on his own ever since. I met him a few months after he left Idaho. He was a student in one of my psychology courses at Indiana University.” She smiled when Adrian looked up.
“It’s….” She shook her head and started over. “What I’m about to tell you, it’s disturbing. But I don’t want you to let it color how you think of Tate, as hard as that will be. He’s his own man, and he’s worked very hard to get where he is.” She smiled fondly. “Dr. Lewis is light-years away from the scared boy I met back then. At nineteen, he was Tatum Bodkin, a kid who couldn’t stop looking over his shoulder, waiting for his past to catch up to him.”
Something about the name Bodkin sounded familiar, but it hovered at the edge of Adrian’s memory. He recognized it as significant, but he couldn’t remember why.
Kenya nodded knowingly. “Heard of his family, I assume?”
“I think
I know the name, but I can’t quite place it.”
“His father is the Alpha of—”
That was all Adrian needed to put the pieces together. “Shit,” he said, breathless. “Tate is a part of that werewolf liberation group?”
Calling it a group was kind. It was more of a cult, or at least that’s how the Werewolf Tribunal viewed it.
“He’s not, no,” Kenya said, enunciating the words carefully. “His family is. That’s why he’s taken such pains to cut himself off from them, Adrian. He escaped the sect soon after his Turn and started a new life. He even changed his name when he was twenty-one. I helped him do it. He didn’t want any ties to his family, and legally, he doesn’t have any now.”
Alpha Bodkin and his Pack were infamous among werewolves. They lived on a sprawling compound in rural Idaho, and not much was known about them other than that they believed werewolves shouldn’t have to hide who they were. Aside from their remote location, they took absolutely no measures to conceal their existence. They shifted and ran as wolves whenever they wanted, and from what Adrian had heard, that was a lot of the time. They lived off the land and were completely off the grid. They were the werewolf version of the bogeyman. “If you don’t behave, we’ll send you to live in Idaho.” Adrian had heard his sister say that to his eight-year-old nephew last week.
“He seems so normal,” Adrian blurted out, shame creeping over him as soon as the words left his mouth. He sounded like a serial killer’s neighbor being interviewed on a cut-rate cop drama.
“He is normal,” Kenya snapped. She blinked and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Adrian. That wasn’t very professional of me. I’m protective of him.”
“I’m glad. It sounds like you were there for him when he needed someone in his corner.”
She smiled. “I was. And I’m hoping you will be that person now. The two of you share something more than a regular Turn bond. I think Tate knows that, and it scares him. His father is a disturbed man, Adrian. He took so much that is wonderful about werewolf culture and perverted it. Tate still struggles to overcome some of the things he learned as a child. It’s a difficult thing to do. It takes a strong person to challenge the ideology of their upbringing, but sometimes even the strongest wills falter.”
Pride warmed Adrian’s chest. He knew Tate was something special, but he’d had no idea how special he was. “What about his upbringing makes this situation hard for him?”
Kenya leaned forward and shook her head. “Don’t you think that’s a conversation you should be having with Tate?”
Adrian sighed. Logically that made the most sense. He ought to be hearing this straight out of Tate’s mouth. But Tate had been so uncomfortable when they’d talked earlier, and his wolf whined at the thought of causing Tate more grief.
“You said our Turn bond was out of the ordinary, and Tate said something similar. What caused that? My fucked-up biological clock? Did he bond differently with me because I’m so old?”
“Twenty-eight. Practically ancient.”
He didn’t want to smile, but he couldn’t help it. Something about Kenya put him at ease. “You know what I meant.”
“There’s no way to know why your body waited until now to Turn, but I very much doubt that this Turn bond has anything to do with your age. Our bodies are primed to form bonds with compatible people. Biologically, it ensures the survival of our species—”
“Whoa, wait,” he said, throwing up a hand in alarm. “There is no ‘survival of our species’ in play here. I’m a dude. Tate is a dude. I know my Turn was abnormal, but it didn’t give me a uterus.”
A low chuckle from the doorway made Adrian jump. He whirled around and saw Tate standing there, a bemused expression on his face.
“Don’t let me interrupt,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning on the doorjamb. “By all means, please continue this discussion of Adrian’s magical werewolf uterus.”
Kenya pursed her lips. “You two deserve each other.”
That wiped the smile off Tate’s face. He stood up and stepped into the room, closing the door behind himself. “I wouldn’t say that,” he muttered.
“I was telling Adrian about our biological drive to find safety,” she said, quirking an eyebrow at Adrian in challenge when he opened his mouth again. “And how it also helps us find compatible mates because it can cause us to bond with someone who is our perfect complement.”
Well, that was a relief. “So no ass babies?”
Kenya didn’t hold back her laugh at Adrian’s question this time, though Tate looked completely stricken.
“Ass babies?” he asked, his voice strangled. “Jesus, Kenya!”
“Is that really so hard to believe, though?” she prodded after she’d caught her breath. “Not male werewolf pregnancy, obviously. But your bond. That two people could be the perfect complement to each other? Suited in temperament and demeanor? Physically attracted to each other from the start?”
Adrian looked between the two of them before answering. The room felt charged and tense. “Well, no.”
“It’s not that uncommon, you know. A Turn bond that grows into something more over time. Quite a few marriages start with a temporary bond as teenagers.”
Tate scoffed. “But you’re talking years with those, Ken. Adrian and I shouldn’t still be bonded. The Turn bond should have broken by now.”
It hadn’t. Adrian could feel Tate like a presence at the back of his mind, faint but definitely there. Adrian’s senses made it clear Tate was agitated—he smelled bitter and his heart was going crazy. But there was more. Tate was terrified. Adrian could practically taste the sour tang of his fear. But somewhere buried in there, lost to the chemosignals but present in Adrian’s mind, was a niggle of something else. Tate was angry and scared, but somewhere deep down he was also excited and—hopeful?
“What are you scared of?” he blurted, regretting it the moment Tate’s eyes went wide and his scent soured even more. “You’re—there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m not going to force you into a bond you don’t want, Tate. I know you don’t know me at all, but I’d hope you’d realize I’m not a monster.”
“No one is forcing anyone into anything,” Kenya said firmly. “And Adrian, Tate knows that. He’s not afraid of you. You need to explain now, Tate. It’s not my place, but you’re causing him unnecessary upset over this.”
That sounded incredibly ominous. Especially the way it made Tate’s face cloud.
“We don’t—”
“We do,” Tate said grimly. “We’ve been calling our connection a Turn bond, but Kenya and Diann think it’s more than that.”
He looked absolutely sick, and Adrian wanted to rush forward and make him stop talking. He had to force himself to stay in his chair. Kenya pointed Tate toward the couch, but Tate shook his head. They locked gazes for a long moment before Kenya sighed.
“What do you know about moonmates, Adrian?”
That wasn’t what he’d been expecting at all. He’d heard of moonmates—everyone knew the fairytale of the two wolflings from warring Packs who were bonded at first sight. The stories said they were fated to be together and blessed by the moon herself.
Their history was dotted with stories of other moonmated couples who came after the first pair. There were no modern stories about moonmates, and the easiest explanation for that was that they didn’t exist. Occam’s razor. The simplest explanation was usually the right one.
“I know the stories,” he said, keeping a careful watch on Tate’s impassive face. “But that’s all they are. Stories.”
“I believe in them,” Kenya said solemnly. “Oh, most of those stories are probably made up. But I’ve seen it happen. And I’m seeing it happen again here. You could argue that they are just well-matched couples who fell in love, and that would be true. That there wasn’t a destiny component to it—and maybe there wasn’t. Maybe it’s just an antiquated term to describe a couple who are perfect for each other and who fall in love quickly. But that doesn’t expl
ain the connection between them—how quickly they are able to get inside each other’s heads and truly know that person.”
She shook her head ruefully. “It sounds so juvenile, I know. But how else do you explain the way you feel about Tate? You’re sensitive to his moods—preternaturally so. He’s half in love with you already, and that’s extremely out of character for him. Tate closes himself off and doesn’t let anyone in. But you’re already through the door. I can’t explain it.”
Tate coughed but didn’t correct her. His cheeks were flaming.
Adrian didn’t have a logical way to explain away the feelings he’d developed, literally overnight. He wasn’t the type to fall into a crush this hard, yet here he was. The fact that Tate seemed to be in the same boat gave him a perverse satisfaction that both excited him and turned his stomach. But moonmates? That was hard to swallow. He glanced over at Tate, who seemed to be trying to memorize the pattern in the tile.
“Is that why you’re so angry?” he asked Tate, his throat tight. “You think you’re stuck being moonmated to me?”
Tate’s head shot up. “I told you, it doesn’t have anything to do with you. I just—it’s not you, okay? It’s the situation.”
“The situation is you freaking out because you’re bonded to me,” Adrian said sharply. “And I’m getting tired of the mixed signals. Because to hear Kenya talk, you feel the same way I do. But it’s obvious you don’t want this, so I have no idea what to do with any of this.”
“You don’t have to ‘do’ anything,” Tate said. “This isn’t your issue. It’s mine, and I don’t plan on letting it interfere with your experience here at Camp H.O.W.L.”
So Tate had finally found his tongue. Too bad he wasn’t using it to say anything Adrian wanted to hear. Anger spiked through him. “That’s a bullshit line and you know it,” Adrian seethed. “If we really do share this rare bond, do you honestly think walking away from it is going to be easy at the end of the month?”