It also determines genetic markers for those who are forbidden from breeding.

The bloodlust gene is the anomaly most clans are concerned about spreading—no one in their right mind wants their beast or their offspring’s beast to manifest bloodlust.

I swallow, opening the test results on my data pad again. The joints of my fingers ache from clenching my fists, and I force myself to take a few deep breaths, stretching them as the data pad slowly loads the latest report. Technology doesn’t always work as well during the Hallec, the heat and proximity of Wulfric’s suns interfering with communication.

Another reason my kind sleep during these hours—there is no point in fighting the sun in addition to our biology.

“Fuck.” The word explodes out of me, and the chair goes crashing to the floor as I stand abruptly, pacing behind the desk.

The first time, I was sure the results were an error.

The second time, I tried to convince myself of the same.

The third time should have been enough—but I decided on one more test to rule out any errors, any possible contaminated results.

The latest results are the same.

I carry the bloodlust gene.

The Wulfric Scion system will never match me with a female, will never let my genes dilute another clan.

Any hope I had at offspring vanished as soon as the first test ran, and I’m the stubborn fool who made them test three more times.

A notification pings through my data pad, and I blink, surprised out of my reverie that the suns still allow any communication through.

It’s unlikely that it’s another Wulfric, as most are asleep now.

Intrigued, I stalk back to the desk and the damned data pad. A distraction is exactly what I need right now. I take a moment to put the chair back upright, breathing through the heightened awareness gripping me, the need to shift as my adrenaline spikes, riding me hard.

I control it, though. I always do.

A shiver racks me as the urge to shift heightens, goose bumps pebbling across my skin.

Closing my eyes, I breathe through my nose, concentrating on each millimeter expansion of my lungs, on purging the anger and frustration raging in every cell.

Finally, somewhat calmer, I pick the data pad up, my still-lengthened claws clicking against it.

The screen glows in the dark, and the comm that dinged in appears at the top of the inbox. I click it, confused to see it addressed to both my sister and me.

A hologram dances along the screen.

“Congratulations on being chosen as a recipient of the new Starlight Brides Lottery program!” a computerized voice tells me, antagonizingly loud in the silence of the room.

“What?” I growl.

“Your new bride will be delivered with the next light cycle, or twenty-four hours standard time. Thank you for choosing Starlight Jobs Lottery to fulfill all your needs. We hope to do business with you again.” The dancing animation finally ends, and I blink in confusion.

A moment later, the door to my office swings open, and a familiar bleary-eyed and panicked face grimaces at me.

“Tessa.” I hold up the data pad, and my sister cringes again. “What the fuck is this?”

“Okay, listen, listen⁠—”

“What does this mean?” I play the message again, the obnoxious hologram dancing across the screen once more.

At the mention of Starlight Brides, my sister lets out a pitiful whine.

“What did you do, Tessa?” I demand, staring at her. Her light blonde hair casts her face in shadows as she stares at the floor, a heightened reaction to the Alpha tone in my question.

“When you were upset about the, uh, test results last time… I thought you wanted a mate. So, I uh, I acted on behalf of the whole clan and you and, ah, I put in an application with the Starlight Jobs Lottery’s new, er, matchmaking service⁠—”

“No werewolf can be my mate,” I growl.

Does she not understand? Does she not understand that no offspring of mine that stands to mutate can be allowed to live?

“You would sentence me to a life of punishment,” I choke out, sickened by the thought of it. “To find a mate, willing, only to have our children taken away⁠—”

“Not a werewolf mate,” Tessa interrupts, taken aback. “Obviously not.” She tsks. “You matched with a human.” She flicks her hair behind her shoulder, her tone so matter-of-fact that it takes a moment for what she’s done to register.

I gape at her. “A human?”

“Yes, a human female. Breeding age for their species.” She grins at me, and I furrow my brow at her.

“What would I do with a human?” I’m agog. Aghast.

“You do know our species are genetically compatible, right?” Tessa gives me her patented you’re an idiot look, and I glare at her.

“I am the leader of our clan,” I growl. “I cannot take a human mate.”

“Well, she’s on her way here.” Tessa’s tone is light and breezy, as if we’re discussing what to have for dinner or the latest trivial clan gossip.

Not as though we’re discussing the fact that she’s essentially ordered a mate for me the same way she would order a dessert.

“Do you want to see her?” she adds, and before I can refuse, she’s whipping out her own data pad.

A hologram rotates on her screen.

My breath catches.

The human woman is lovely, with delicate bone structure and dark eyes. There’s something sad about her, something that begs for further inspection. A haunted look to her eyes paired with a ferociousness that calls to the wolf in me.

I clear my throat.

“Uh-huh,” Tessa says knowingly. “That’s what I thought.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” She shrugs one shoulder, stifling a small yawn. “I can tell when you like something. Or, in this case, someone.” One eyebrow raises.

“A human?” I ask, but it’s not really a question. I’m intrigued by the idea.

A human woman, on Wulfric.

“Yeah, and you better be nice to her.”

“Do you think I would be cruel?” I’m genuinely curious. I have a reputation. Of course I do. When I was forced to step into the leadership of the clan as a sixteen-year-old, the only way I knew how to keep all the challengers in line was brute strength. It was all they respected, all they knew.

I didn’t think my own sister thought the same of me, though.

“Not cruel, no,” she finally answers, looking at me with narrowed eyes. Like mine, her eyes are the tawny shade of gold that’s one of the trademarks of our clan. “Iron-fisted? Maybe. Intolerant of dissent?” She shrugs a shoulder. “Probably. Mean-tempered? Sometimes.”

I huff, the noise somewhere between a laugh and a rebuke.

Tessa just tilts her head, a small knowing smile playing across her lips.

“I will be… nice,” I finally manage.

A human woman, brought here to be mine. I swallow hard, my claws lengthening, the pull of the moon strengthening as it approaches its apex, despite the Hallec’s typically calming influence.

“You should have consulted with me about this first,” I tell her brusquely.

“You would have said no,” Tessa says with a laugh.

“Exactly,” I say, my good humor souring slightly. “I don’t have time for a woman.”

“Right. That’s why you did the Wulfric Scion test. Four. Times.” She drags out the last words, glaring at me. “Because you don’t want a mate. Because you’re not lonely.”

A snarl slips out of me, and she averts her eyes, her gaze dropping to the floor at the unspoken rebuke.

“You cannot make decisions like this without me.”

“Do you want me to contact Starlight and tell them the position has been revoked?” she asks, her eyes fixed on the floor. “I can do that if you⁠—”

“No.” I say it too fast, and I catch movement as she smirks.

“I’ll just send you her information, then…” My data pad beeps as she does just that, the hologram image of the woman firing up and spinning across the screen of my own pad. “I’ll start getting her rooms ready and prepare to welcome her with a clan feast tonight,” Tessa says, edging out of the room as if she doesn’t dare show her back to a predator.