A Werewolf's True Mate
The tiny female already showed signs of my mother's silver fur markings, while the male bore his father's distinctive black crescent mark on his forehead.
"Lycus and Selene," Luna murmured, the names they had chosen from ancient pack lore. Lycus—meaning "of the wolf"—and Selene—named for the moon goddess.
The Blackthorn pack celebrated the birth with a traditional howling ceremony, their unified voices carrying the news to neighboring territories. Even my grandmother had been transported to witness the naming ceremony, her frail form energized by the sight of her great-grandpups.
"They carry the strongest bloodlines," she proclaimed proudly. "The Blackthorn strength and the Silverblood intui