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Prologue
Paranormal unions (also referred to colloquially as matings, claimings, bloodings, soul mates, etc.) will be accorded the same rights as a common law marriage (see state laws for more information).
In order for any union involving a Paranormal (either Paranormal/Paranormal or Paranormal/human) to be recognized by the city state, it must be formalized with a notarized certificate, also referred to as a “Bonding License”. Once the certificate is issued, the Paranormal will be accorded all rights and privileges as outlined in this ordinance.
Also, any individual who, regardless of their “instincts”, absconds with another individual, Paranormal or human, with the aim of forcing a union, will face the same penalty as if there was no perceived tie between them, ie. kidnapping, assault, etc.
— Ordinance 7304
Section II
1
Maddox Wolfe liked to live on the wild side—when he thought he could get away with it, that was.
Made sense. As a shifter, and second-in-command to his father’s pack, he knew he was born to roam, even if he couldn’t go too far; as a man, he was both reckless yet constantly aware of his responsibilities. It was a contradiction, sure, but one he enjoyed. When the day finally came that his Alpha actually retired—because hell would freeze over before anyone forcibly stole control from Terrence Wolfe’s claws—Maddox knew that he would have to settle down, take over the pack.
Lead them.
Thank Alpha that wasn’t today, though. Or even tomorrow.
He was the firstborn son, a true alpha, and the heir to their pack. Comprised of a motley mix of wolf, bear, and large cat shifters, a strong pack like theirs could only be led by a beast as powerful as his, with a mate who could temper his lusts and help him rule. His mother, Sarah, had always done for Terrence, and their mating was one Maddox looked up to.
He refused to settle for less and, since he was old enough to know what a mate was, Mad had earnestly searched for the one woman who was meant to be his.
He was twenty-six years into his search, though, and despite sniffing around everywhere his roaming travels took him in between his responsibilities, he’d yet to catch a whiff of his one true mate.
So, for now, he ran. As itchy and as restless as he’d been feeling lately, that was all he could do. He wanted to run, and he did so while skirting the line between should and shouldn’t, safe and, well, a pretty bad idea.
If his father knew what he was doing, he’d have his hide. If his brother knew, he’d remind Mad that he was the Beta. And if Dodge knew…
Ah. Who was he kidding? That ghost knew everything, and probably thought it was hysterical how, at Maddox’s age, he was still a virgin.
Couldn’t be helped. And, at any rate, no one could stop him from breaking free whenever he could. He was big enough, strong enough, with a beast that could take down creatures twice its size.
And it would stop at nothing to find its mate.
Finding her, claiming her… it was his main focus. Sure, he worked hard as a construction foreman, and he’d been groomed to take over the pack since he was a pup, but that didn’t change who Maddox was on the inside.
Of course, to a shifter, living on the wild side meant something completely different than it did to the humans—which was why Terrence was so frustrated with his oldest son. It meant living more as a man than a wolf, coexisting alongside the humans, acting as if their societies didn’t stay separate despite the powers that be insisting that—more than fifty years after paranormals were forced to reveal the truth of their existence—Paras and humans were one big happy family.
Maddox was an oddity among the other shifters in his pack. He had no problem mingling with the other races. One of his oldest friends was a witch, he managed to almost always tolerate Colt’s ghost pal, and he did all of the interacting with humans on the pack’s behalf that needed to be done. Despite the dominating nature of his wolf, Maddox was at ease among all types, human or Para.
Well, except for Nightwalkers. But no one liked Nightwalkers—not even other Nightwalkers.
His father gave up arguing over Maddox’s open attitude years ago. Colton had never been able to figure out his older brother’s fascination with the humans—or, as he so often sneered, the Ants. Derisive and angry when it came to non-shifters, Colt never thought of the humans as anything other than ants: far too many, admittedly hardworking, even if they were annoying and way, way too easily squished.
Maddox was different. He didn’t give a shit who knew it, either. If they were strong enough to challenge him, fine. That was a good thing about being an alpha wolf shifter. There weren’t many out there—Para or human—who could challenge him.
Which was precisely why it didn’t matter to him where he went to break out into his fur for a while. Laws said that shifters could have free rein of any park—even if most stayed away from the humans—and he was confident that, wherever he roamed, he’d be the biggest, the baddest beast around.
So, instead of running on pack land, or even taking to the hundreds of acres that bordered the Bumptown where his brother built his home, Maddox drove to the border of Woodbridge.
It was a mostly human town, not too far from his home in Wolf’s Creek, that had one or two Paras living on the outskirts, trying their best to blend in.
Besides, he had a built-in excuse. If anyone asked why he chose to run in Woodbridge of all places, he could always tell them he was visiting Cilla.
Maddox had known Priscilla Winters for most of his life. Like him, she was a Para who found herself trapped between both worlds. A witch who chose not to live with her coven in Coventry, she rented a small house on a secluded human street and worked for a private buyer, performing spells, chanting incantations, crafting wards, and dabbling in a bit of divination for a client who kept her in as many diamonds as her witchy little heart could ever want.
Because her employer kept her so busy, and working under his father—as second in the pack and lead foreman for their construction company—left Maddox with little free time, he hadn’t seen Cilla in ages. Taking this run was as good an excuse as any to see if she was in, maybe grab a bite to eat and check in with her, see how she had been.
If he remembered correctly, there was this great hole in the wall down the street from Cilla’s cul de sac that served two-inch thick steaks. His wolf lifted its muzzle, breathing in deeply, tasting all of the scents in the air. On the late afternoon breeze, he could just catch a hint of meat cooking in the distance. He started to salivate. Even if Cilla was out, he could cap off his run with a delicious meal before heading home.
The wind shifted.
Another scent blew past him. Soft. Sweet. Whatever it was had an undertone of vanilla, but that wasn’t all. There wa
s a depth to it that had his wolf snuffling before it sniffed deeply—
His fur stood on end. He dug his claws into the dirt, tearing at the grass as he pawed at it anxiously—
