The Sixteenth Moon: A Rejected Mates Romance

Chapter 8 (Revised): Mate Hunt

***The following chapter has been revised for plot and continuity.***

Rueger stifled a grimace at the scents that assailed his nose when he stepped through the door of the Healer's cottage. An olfactory cacophony of dried and fresh herbs, rich soil, oils, minerals, and clean linen filled the moderately sized building. Marta lived in a large cottage on the other side of the compound with her mate, Roger Hanson. She only used the Healer's cottage to perform her healing acts, and to create the tinctures, potions, and whatnot she used for her healing. While most shifters healed without aid, there were some wounds that needed a Healer's help before the remarkable regenerative gift could kick in. There were also birth control potions, sleep aids, and some herbal pain relievers the Healer made and provided to those in the Pack in need of them. Unlike humans, pharmaceuticals did nothing for shifter physiology. Some said it was because Ailune was the sister to the earth deity and therefore her creations—shifters—could only be healed of the earth with herbs and holistics. Some said it was because the chemicals used in modern drugs were ineffective to beings with natural healing abilities. Most shifters though, just didn't trust human medicines or doctors.

"Jill told me to expect you," a voice called out from a doorway that led to the back of the shop where he knew Marta sorted and dried the herbs she grew in the small green house out back of the cottage.

"And so here I am," he said, a slight smile on his face. He'd known of Marta and her mate for decades, long before they'd had Jill. She'd been the Healer of the Greater Washington Pack in America back when his father was Alpha, but switched to the GNT Pack when his father lured her away ten years ago. Nearing four hundred years old, she was one of the oldest members of the Laarsen Pack, though she didn't look a day over fifty. Since her natural aging had slowed to a crawl after she reached the height of her strength, she would never have to worry about crow's feet or saggy skin like most human women did. In his experience—as in all the human women he'd fucked before being mated to Ingrid—most women cared too much about what age did to their bodies. They filled and smoothed and scoured and sucked away their true selves, leaving behind a body that was more plastic and botulism than it was human. More than once, he was grateful that shifter females had no such compunction. Not that their shifter healing abilities wouldn't just reject whatever nonsense they put in their bodies.

A shuffling caught his attention, drawing his gaze back to the doorway on the other side of the room through which his Healer emerged.

A welcoming grin on her familiar face, Marta's eyes were warm and filled with wisdom.

"Welcome to my humble little cottage, Alpha," she greeted. "What can I do for you?"

She set the pot of soil she was carrying on a high wooden table along the wall, then turned, brushing the soil from her hands on her worn, stained jeans. Finally, she gave him her full attention, her gaze now penetrating...and seeing.

That was one of the most disconcerting things about the old Healer. She saw much more than he wanted her to see.

Except that your mate was coming, and you shouldn't consort bond with another woman the same day.

Old, agonizing recriminations would do nothing for his right now. His right then. His immediate need to learn all he could about the woman he'd banished and abandoned.

Leaning against the wall beside the table, he crossed his arms, affecting a practiced nonchalance he certainly didn't feel.

"What can you tell me about the Yamamotos?"

Marta's brow furrowed, her lips pinching.

"They are old friends. Well...were old friends. Last I heard Hiro had died, and his mate, my dear friend, not long after."