Seven Mates
“Never,’ I spat with disdain, filled with outrage.
My wolf just ignored me and was just excited and singing happily, not caring if I was cheerful about it or not.
She knows how I hate fated mates.
“Thinking of refusing about the seven of us, shit, you can’t and it will take me nothing to suck the life out of you and leave you for dead.’
The seven of them? How ridiculous! What?
“Oh, you haven’t perceived the other’s scent here,’
I looked around. There were only six. Well, their pheromones say there are seven of them.
Where is the remaining one?
I don’t give a damn.
Seven mates. This was too much, not one mate, but seven. What am I, a robot or some sort of sex machine to them?