The Wolf Lord's Mate

Chapter One

The market was always crowded, the bustling rush of bodies slipping from stall to stall in search of the best price. I had been knocked off my feet more than once in the past by merchants shifting goods, or by a Wolf who wasn't looking where they were going. Not that I could have done anything to correct them, even if it was their fault.

The Wolves were more powerful than us; tall, strong beings that could silence a human with a single growl. They were more beautiful than humans too, the females lean and statuesque, while the males were pure muscle and dominance who made human men look meak in comparison.

One of them stood by Ander's fabric stall, the male towering above the rest, his eyes wary and watchful at the crowd, and yet every so often his gaze slipped back to the female who was taking her time sorting through the fabrics.

They were mates.

I could tell by the bite at the nape of her neck, where two powerful jaws had clamped down into her skin. The thought of it made me shiver, a chill running up my spine. I couldn't think of a worse fate than being permanently bound to one of those creatures, especially considering they only seemed to find humans worthwhile when we were mates. The rest of us were just vermin to be tolerated.

"Anything to sell today, Mira?" Jack's voice caught my attention, his hands full with a bag of grain, that pressed against the softness of his middle.

"A trade," I dug into my bag, pulling out the pair of gloves I had finished the night before, "For flour? I know Serine's ripped last week." Jack's daughter worked out in the wheat fields, her palms always worn with callouses and bruises.

    "You could sell them for something better, as fine as they are." Jack glanced down at the gloves, his expression torn. They were fine, as fine as they could be given the quality of material I had available, but the skills my mother had taught me as a seamstress still shone through no matter what I had to work with.

    "I don't need something better," I followed Jack around the back of the stall, gloves outstretched, "I need flour, and Serine needs to keep her hands covered. How else are you going to keep selling if you don't have anyone to harvest?"

    Jack dropped the sack of grain with a sigh. "A half-pound?"

    "Three-quarters."

    "Go on then," I smiled, gripping the gloves tighter, "I'll fill a bag for you." My stomach was already gurgling with the anticipation of fresh bread. I would have eaten anything at that moment, the last of my supplies had run out the day before and I hadn't eaten anything all day. With everyone struggling to get by, the employment of a seamstress had dropped lower and lower on the list of necessities by the day. People simply couldn't afford new clothes, and had learned to mend them on their own. As for those who could afford a seamstress, none of them would be coming to me in my tiny apartment above a bar. The Wolves could find someone better elsewhere, and so I had been left without work. If things got worse, it might be me joining Serine out in the fields next, toiling away all day for a few meager coins. Still, a few coins were better than none, I thought, watching as Jack carefully measured out the flour.

    "Pleasure doing business with you," I said with a smile, trading the gloves for the bag of flour, "Tell Serine I said hello."

    "Will do." I rolled the top of the bag tightly, sealing it with loose twine, and stuck it in my bag. I didn't want to risk it spilling, not with it being as precious as it was.

    Leaving Jack at his stall, I stepped back into the current of the market, following the flow of bodies towards the center of the square where the stalls pushed closer together. Shouting sounded from the middle of the stalls, the bodies coalescing to form a circle. I wasn't particularly short, but I wasn't exactly tall, especially not when compared to the Wolves that were mixed in with the crowd, and whose heads were blocking the source of the commotion.

    Darting around to the side, I stepped up onto an upturned box and peered out to see what was going on. A human man was sitting on the ground, cowering beneath a Wolf. "Do you have nothing to say for yourself, thief?" The Wolf snarled, his eyes flashing black as the man held his hands up in surrender.    

    "What's going on here?" The attention of the crowd turned as the Lord's Head Guard pushed the crowd aside. He was tall, even for a wolf, his shoulders broad and his face scarred, but even his power was nothing compared to the man who walked behind him. No, not a man, I had to remind myself. The Lord was no man. I had never seen him in person, only heard stories of the Wolf that ruled over our province with an iron fist and unyielding power.

    The Lord was large even for a Wolf, his body exuding power and dominance. Soft, oaky hair curled at his neck, accentuating the square cut lines of his jaw. His eyes, piercing pools of emerald green swept across the crowd, drinking in the commotion before landing on the source of the noise. I found myself unconsciously leaning forward, a strange allure to him. He was beautiful, the marriage of handsome features to his overwhelming masculinity making tingles run down my skin.

    He's still a Wolf, I reminded myself, coming to my senses.   

    "What exactly is the problem?" The Lord's voice was deep and rich, rumbling through the air and silencing the crowd.

    "This human was stupid enough to try and steal from my purse." The man only ducked his head lower as the Lord's attention turned to him.

    "Is this true?"

    "Yes, but I–"

    "Is it true?" The Lord repeated, his voice dropping lower.

    "Only a few coins, Sir." The man whispered, "I am so terribly sorry."

    "Leo, take him." The Lord nodded to his head guard, the one with the scar that ran down the length of his face. "He'll spend a month in the cages as restitution."

    I turned away, the beauty of the Lord turning sickening with every word. The cages were a prison; dirty and rat infested, and a month there was certainly no fair punishment for stealing a few coins that made up only a fraction of the wealth that a Wolf possessed. I stepped down from the apple box, having seen enough already. No matter how handsome the Lord was, he was still a Wolf, and they would always pick their own over us.

    Adjusting my bag, I turned away from the crowd and started in the direction of home.

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