It was the matebond that tempered us, focused our instincts, sharpened our abilities. Without it, even the strongest alpha could unravel.
And for kings? It wasn’t optional. Their wolves bore the weight of thousands of lives, the pressure of legacy, politics, war. Without a mate to ground them, they risked madness—or worse, weakness. A bonded king was blessed. A king without a mate? Vulnerable. Easy to attack.
We were taught that since we were pups, just old enough to shift. The stories were passed down like sacred rites. No matter how powerful your wolf, no matter how sharp your mind or steady your hand... that without your mate, you were only half.
But without James... I didn't feel like I was only a half, not anymore.
"Maybe you'll find your true mates," I said, the words choking me
