Harold the King of the Werewolves had is carriage packed up and ready to go meet this new pack. He wasn’t usually nervous about such things but something deep down swirled uncomfortable in his stomach. “Good travels my dear.” His sweet mate kissed him good-bye. He watched her walk back into his palace. She was beautiful and sweet but she was unable to give him children. He did not let his mind wander to his first mate very often, but something today brought up her ghost. He closed his eyes and pushed her memory way to the back. It never did him any good to remember her, the hurt, the unsealing wound in his soul. He was 18 when he met his first mate and that day was a day like any other day. Being newly mated they had spent the morning in bed, making love and getting to know eac

