Chapter Text
When Martin was thirteen, on the crusp of puberty, his mother pulled him aside to have 'the talk.' She sat him down at the kitchen table, along with his father, while his brother and sister were outside playing.
"Look at this, Martin," his mother said to him, pulling down the hem of her shirt, revealing pale white scars near her collar bone. Martin seen these scars since he was a child, but never before has his mother ever voluntarily showed them to him. "Do you know what this is?"
The scars were old, cresent shape, and went across her collar bone, over her shoulder. It looked like it hurt.
A little confused, Martin glanced at his father for guidance. His father puffed up his chest proudly. Looking back to his mother, Martin shrugged.
She tapped the scars. "They're from your father. This is his bite, marking me as his."
Martin gaped. "Dad!" he said outrageous.
"Calm down," his father chuckled. He swooped down and kissed the scars fondly. "This is what we need to talk to you about. One day, you will meet someone very special. Someone you will want to mark, just like this. Your future mate."
"Werewolves mate for life, Martin," his mother continued, covering the scars. "And when you make a decision on your mate, you need to be a hundred percent sure they are the one. Because once you made that decision, there is no going back."
Martin's cheeks turned red. "Mum..." he whined, not wanting to hear this. "I'm not... I'm too young to be thinking about this."
"You're ready to go through puberty," his dad sniffed the air. "I can smell it. Soon enough you'll be noticing girls and will want to mate with all of them. We're telling you this now so you can avoid making stupid decisions. Don't be like your uncle Richard. He mated when he was sixteen now he's stuck with an idiot for a partner. Don't sell yourself short, my son."
Martin was too embarrassed to talk back. All he could do was nod.
"All right. You can go outside to play, now."
Relieved, Martin slid off the kitchen chair, shifting the moment his feet touched the floor. He was no bigger than a golden retriever, all light brown fur and nails that tapped noisily against the linoleum floor.
He slipped out the back door to join the other two young werewolves, frolicking in the sunlight.
Mating was a little more complicated than the water-down version his parents gave him. It was more than finding the right woman, biting her, and marking her as yours. Martin had to be aware there was a chance this human could turn on him, reveal him to the world. There was a chance he could hurt her, with his teeth and claws and huge frame. There were plenty of stories of werewolves accidentally killing their mates.
He also learned, very quickly, that being a werewolf meant being alone. When his mum said they mate for life, she meant it. He had to choose wisely, otherwise he could be stuck with a human who didn't love him, who would betray him, who would be disgusted by him.
And he would never be able to let her go, no matter how hard he'd try.
Martin would ask his dad how did he know, how did he know mum was the one?
His dad shrugged. "I just did."
For the longest time, Martin thought his dad was just lucky. He found a woman out of the millions in the world and the idea of love at first sight was just a stupid myth.
Then he met Douglas Richardson.