Meatloaf grease always had a way of burrowing through the anti-stick barrier and burning itself onto pans. No matter how much spray stuff I used, or how long I let the stupid pans soak overnight, I always ended up scrubbing hard enough to work up a sweat. I didn't object to a solid upper-body workout, but scrubbing pans was not how I liked to get one.

I glared at the glass pan. Stubborn bits of charred grease clung to the corners and mocked me. A lot of unsavory thoughts went through my mind. Just like every morning after meatloaf night.

I didn't hate doing the dishes. I hated to cook. Having to do the dishes afterwards was just insult on injury. It was unspoken in my family that I cooked. This had little to do with me being the sole female, and everything to do with my father and older brother worked. I did not have a job. I was not allowed to have a job.

That was because I was a female. I didn't resent it more than I was resigned to it. If I had been given my choice I'd have gone to college, started a career, had my own life and put this mates business off like humans got to. My mother had been honest with me: for my father's daughter none of that would happen. She had also advised me to not get attached to anyone or any place. When I met my mate, my life would probably change completely, and getting attached to anything before that only made everything harder. She had uprooted herself to be with my father and I had taken her advice to heart. I had always thought I heard a twinge of sadness in her voice, and wondered what she had had to leave behind.

I missed my mother. She probably would been honest with me about this mates business. I understood my father didn't want me to worry over something beyond my control, but I hated waiting in the dark.

Which was exactly why my father dropping that morning's news on me made me yelp like puppy. "What?!"

My father leaned against the counter like this was something that happened everyday. "He'll be here tomorrow."

"He who?" I demanded. Three days ago it had been photographs. Now my father informed me he had invited a potential suitor to our territory to meet me! I wasn't sure if I should be furious or terrified. I decided that terrified was the proper emotion. This had to be bad. This had to be dire. This never happened. This wasn't done. Random males coming to the door was not how it worked.

"His name is Sterling Mortcomb."

I needed a second to process the name. It sounded familiar. It also sent a strange chill along my skin, down my spine, right into my deepest part of me.

I ignored my inexplicable quiver, and sifted through my memories. Sterling Mortcomb had filed a new pack petition the previous summer. The pack, SnowFang, had just barely been granted recognition. My father had spent a great deal of time mulling it over. All I knew was that the three founding members all had murky histories that had given him cause for concern.

Chroniclers only recognized packs founded by wolves in good standing with clean backgrounds. There were many unofficial, unrecognized packs. Being officially recognized came with a measure of prestige and esteem. When my father was skeptical about the wolves in a would-be pack he simply denied the petition. Little packs like SnowFang lived and died all the time, and my father didn't hesitate to deny petitions when a fledgling pack had a questionable member. There were enough packs, he told me.

The SnowFang had been a very rare and weird exception. All the founding wolves were questionable. I had nagged him to tell me why his reasoning but I had gotten barked at. Fair enough. At the time it hadn't been my business. Now it was. There was a storm brewing. Every sense sharpened.

My fingers curled around my sponge. A hundred thoughts rattled around in my brain. I had prepared myself for him to fish from shallow waters, but this seemed completely random. "How- how did this happen?"

"He expressed an interest."

"He expressed an interest!" I exclaimed. So it was that simple? Just express an interest and get an invitation, no matter who you were or your credentials.

"Like I said. A wider net. There is no harm in humoring his curiosity."

I sputtered something incoherent. I couldn't even string two thoughts together. My father had invited a wolf like Sterling Mortcomb to our territory to meet me. That was never done! Or had Sterling asked my father- and my father was so shy on potential suitors he had said yes? That was especially never done! I didn't know if I should have been terrified or mortified or incensed. I think all three was what knotted under my ribs. I had en

"If he isn't your mate then you getting upset is pointless." he pointed out with maddening, cool logic.

I had the right to be upset! I had had enough of being paraded about and sniffed and talked about, and this was an all new low. Would he invite a SilverFlint or SableFur for tea next? "Just tell me how desperate things are for me, Dad. Last year you almost denied that pack petition. Now you're inviting them up to meet your daughter?"

"It's just that wider net, Winter." he repeated.

"Stop saying that." I snapped. "You may as well tell me you're looking under every rock and and in every methadone clinic! Is it that bad for me, then? Is that it? You've looked literally everywhere else and now you're fishing around in puddles? Will it be lone wolves next? Humans?"

He sighed at me. "I don't want to go through this every time a potential mate comes to the door. His background has no bearing on if Gaia chose him for you or not. This isn't a hundred years ago, Winter."

That confirmed it in my mind: he was looking everywhere, and now the potential candidates were so shameful they were being invited up in private. I appreciated being spared the further public humiliation of my entire pack knowing just who was sniffing me. And if I grit my teeth hard enough, I could accept this as my lot.

But all I wanted was for my father to comfort me, to tell me the truth and not act like I should accept this without tears just because it was Gaia's will. Gaia's will didn't mean it had to be easy to bear. A pack and family were there for support and comfort when the burdens were too heavy to carry alone. "So anyone who wants can just come to the door to meet me. Will we be having visiting hours?"

My father didn't budge. In fact, he ignored me. "Sterling will be here tomorrow and won't stay long. You two can sniff each other and be done."

Two times now Sterling Mortcomb had been an exception to all the usual rules. My mind reeled about in my skull. Like I was drunk but knew logically the room was not actually spinning."Why did you have him come here? I haven't already seen him, have I?"

"No. You have not. As to why he's coming here, I told him if he's serious, he needs to act serious. You should be flattered, Winter. He's coming a very long way on short notice." My father gave me a meaningful look reserved for when he thought I was acting like a child, then pushed off the counter and walked away.

I watched him go, one hand still holding a glass pan, the other a dirty sponge, plunged up past my wrists in greasy water.

So if you could afford the plane ticket and day off, you could take your chances with the SilverPaw Alpha's daughter. Come one, come all. Step right up. Don't push, don't shove.

I had become a carnival prize.

I spent some of the evening sitting in front of my vanity mirror debating what I wanted to do for the following day. Make up? How much? Do my hair or just put it in a ponytail? My instinct was to look neat and presentable, because if he was the soul Gaia had chosen seduction wasn't required. I could be as ugly as sin and that wouldn't change anything.

One of the fears I had not had with this whole mate business was that my mate would be ugly. When you're afraid of ending up in a rival pack and never being allowed to see your family again it makes things like "good looks" unimportant. You start focusing on things like "doesn't drink himself into a stupor every night" and "has a job" and "is smarter than a pet rock".

Werewolves believed mates were designated at birth. But we also knew that many things happened between birth and finding your other half. Life's events didn't change the bond between souls, but it could make those bonds terrible to bear. I knew of many mated pairs that were very unhappy. Finding your mate didn't mean happily ever after.

I could not shake the feeling on my shoulders. It felt as though hands were there, pushing me forward into something dark.

"Making yourself pretty?"

I glared at my brother. "Don't you knock?"

He leaned against the frame of my door, arms crossed, and a smirk on his lips. He was a couple of years older than me. His mate hadn't been found either, but he was a male, so nobody cared. He had inherited our father's amber-brown eyes and dark hair. I favored our mother: red hair and green eyes. He was tall and lanky, I was somewhat more petite but I wasn't frail. I had made it a point to not be easy pickings during SableFur ambushes or rogue hunts.

"Your door was mostly open." he pointed out.

"You are a pest, Jerron." I growled. He and I had never really gotten along. I didn't think it was sibling rivalry. That's what everyone told me, but the truth was, deep down, I didn't like Jerron. He was sure he'd be the SilverPaw Alpha one day and he acted like it. Dad just said he was a young werewolf and would age nicely. Like good wine. I didn't think so.

But it was a bad thing when two wolf sibs didn't like each other. Another ill-luck omen. So I had kept my mouth shut and let everyone keep thinking it was sibling rivalry. Maybe I was Unwanted. Maybe Gaia had paired my soul with something flawed and dark.

"So. Sterling Mortcomb of SnowFang."

"He's just coming for a visit." I retorted.

"Dad's really scraping the bottom of the barrel if he's letting SnowFangs sniff you."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don't you have something better to do? Like eat some rat poison?"

"Everyone's talking about it." he went on. "About how Dad's letting a SnowFang come here for you."

So much for hoping it would be private. "You know I don't get a say in any of this. Go away, Jerron."

He didn't move. "Only thing that wolf has going for him is he's stupid rich."

That was news to me. And I didn't care. So what if Sterling was wealthy? This wasn't about wealth. I wasn't in the mood for this. I got up from my desk, stormed over to him and shoved him. "I said get lost!"

When he didn't take the hint, I pushed him a second time. Harder. "I'm not playing, Jerron. Get out!"

"Fine, fine." he knew not to get me really angry. I growled at him again. I wanted to bite him so badly. I could. I could just drop into wolf and snake my jaws forward around his calf and bite down... my vision washed silver and red, and I felt the mist rising from my blood and the exquisite shiver of a coming shift fly over my skin.

"She-wolves." he huffed, but he stepped out of range.

I shouldn't have fantasized about biting my brother. I slammed the door in his face for his safety as much as mine. Females were faster shifters than males. The males were bigger, stronger, more durable, thicker hides. But the women could shift almost in a blink and had better regeneration than the males. Males were generally smart enough to not anger the females.

Stupid Jerron. He was twenty-one. He should be acting more like an alpha and less like a jerk. Instead of coming in here and commiserating he had only wanted to torment me. Fine and good when we were five and he had ruined my favorite toys with black markers. But this was my life and he just wanted to yank my tail.

I would miss many things if— when — I left home. But Jerron wouldn't be one of them.