I am Marrae, and I don't believe in the Mate Bond.
Love is sacred. That's what my mom used to say. She didn't believe in mates either—called the whole thing an overrated fairytale, a leash disguised as destiny.
"Guard your heart like it's your last breath," she'd tell me, her voice sharp and sure.
"Because love—real love—has nothing to do with some magical pull or the whims of the Moon Goddess. It's about choice, Marrae," she'd add. "Not some preordained wolf prince who smells like cedarwood and testosterone." My mom words of wisdom before she passed.
And, honestly? I believed her.
Because here I am—twenty years old, two years past the age when I was supposed to meet my so-called fated mate—and guess what? Nothing. No spark. No pull. No color-shifting eyes, broad-shouldered, annoyingly perfect wolf standing in my path, declaring that he's "the one."
And you know what? Good.
There are millions of wolves out there, and we're all supposed to believe one of them is the perfect match for me? Please. The math doesn't add up, and the Moon Goddess isn't exactly handing out couple bracelets or something. Besides, there are more she-wolves than he-wolves—how's that Supposed to work?
Not that it matters. My wolf isn't even fully awake. I can't shift yet, which, for a she-wolf, is basically social purgatory. I should've shifted years ago, but here I am, stuck somewhere between human and wolf, with neither side fully cooperating.
But of course, my dad didn't see things the same way.
I was elbow-deep in the engine of a beat-up truck when he strolled into the garage, wiping his hands on a rag.
"So, kid," he began, his tone easy and casual, though I could tell where this was heading, "still no sign of your mate?"
I rolled my eyes and glanced up from under the hood. "Dad, really? Are we doing this again?"
He leaned against the workbench, giving me a look like I'm just saying. "You're twenty. Two years past when the Moon Goddess usually makes her little matches. It's a little... unusual."
I straightened up, wiping my hands on a rag. "And I'm fine with it. I don't believe in mates, remember? I believe in fixing things—like this truck. Cars don't talk back, and engines don't have opinions. They're predictable. Unlike all this mate-destiny nonsense."
"You can't ignore what's a part of you, Marrae," he said, his tone shifting to that serious, dad-is-wisdom mode. "Love is sacred, yes. But the mate bond? It's part of who we are. You can't avoid it forever."
I groaned, grabbing another wrench. "Dad, it's a myth. Look at you and Mom. The Moon Goddess didn't pair you two up, but you had something real. Something better than all this supposed fated crap."
"You're stubborn," he muttered, rubbing his jaw. "Just like your mom."
"Good," I shot back, smirking. "That's why you loved her."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "You're going to make this harder than it needs to be."
"Well, Dad, it's my life. I'm not going to sit around waiting for someone to magically appear just because a mythical wolf goddess says so."
He sighed, clearly knowing he'd hit a wall. But as he turned to leave, he couldn't resist one last shot.
"You'll change your mind, kid. Love isn't something you choose—it chooses you."
I rolled my eyes at him. When suddenly the bell above the garage door jingled, and I didn't bother looking up. "Be with you in a minute!" I called out, adjusting my grease-stained apron.
Then it hit me.
A scent. Earthy, like rain-soaked soil, and sharp, like crushed pine needles. My wolf—usually dormant—suddenly stirred, her presence vibrating in the back of my mind, wide awake for the first time in years.
Oh no.
I wiped my hands on my apron, trying to brush off the unease along with the grease, but my heart had already started to race.
No. No, no, no.
I glanced at the door. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe it was... the wind. And then he walked in...
Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair that looked like it couldn't decide if it wanted to behave or not. His eyes—ruby red, burning and intense—locked on mine the moment he stepped inside, and my chest tightened.
Mate.
Nope. Not happening. I froze. I couldn't be having this reaction. I couldn't just... feel this way. Not after all I'd told myself about fate and destiny. No, I wasn't going to fall into that trap. Not today.
I forced my face into a neutral mask, pretending the earth hadn't just shifted beneath my feet.
"Welcome to Rust & Growl," I said, keeping my tone light. "How can I help you?"
He didn't answer right away, his gaze still pinned to mine.
"Wallace," he said finally, his voice low and clipped.
"Well then, Sir Wallace," I said briskly, "what seems to be the problem?"
"My brakes gave out coming down the hill," he said standing in the doorway, watching me with an unreadable expression, his eyes back to its normal color never leaving mine.
I nodded, keeping a professional distance. "I'll take a look." My wolf was practically salivating, but I dug my heels in, refusing to let her take control, not now. Not when I was pretending I didn't feel it.
As I passed him on my way to the car, he grabbed my arm, his touch sending a jolt through me that I refused to acknowledge.
"Didn't you smell that?" he asked, his voice rough and low, like he was smelling something delectable.
I arched a brow, pulling my arm away casually. "Smell…what? Oh, sorry. Must've been the grease and oil. I just finished working on an old truck. Don't worry, though—we offer subzero air cleaners. Your car won't leave smelling like the shop."
He stared at me like he didn't quite believe me, his ruby eyes narrowing slightly.
"DAD!" I called, my voice loud enough to snap the tension in the air. "Customer! Paperwork!"
Without waiting for a reply, I marched outside , hoping to that Goddess that this man bought my acting skills and that he would just let it go.
Just like the movie Frozen Let it goo, Let it go…