The Great Mate Interrogation

The Great Mate Interrogation


Dad stops pacing and turns to face me with the expression of a detective who just realized his murder mystery has taken a very weird turn into supernatural romance territory.

"Wait," he says, holding up one hand like he's directing traffic in his own bathroom. "Back up. When did you find your mate?"

The question hits me like a slap of cold water, which is ironic considering I'm sitting on a bathroom floor covered in actual water from my graceful collision with the sink.

I blink at him, my brain scrambling to come up with an answer that doesn't involve admitting that I've known about Rowan for exactly two days and have been lying to everyone about it while making out with him in our kitchen.

"I... what?" I stammer, which is probably not the smooth, convincing response I was going for.

"Your mate," Dad repeats, like I might have forgotten what we were talking about despite the permanent reminder currently tattooed on my chin. "When did you find him? When did the bond snap into place?"

Mom leans forward from her perch on the bathtub edge, suddenly looking like a bloodhound who just caught a scent. "Yes, when exactly did this happen? Because mate bonds are supposed to be... obvious. Life-changing. You can't just not notice."

Oh, I noticed. I definitely noticed. It's kind of hard to miss when your wolf suddenly develops the vocabulary of a caveman discovering fire and starts chanting "OH" like it's the most profound philosophical statement in the history of werewolf consciousness.

But I can't exactly tell them that.

"I don't know," I lie, trying to look confused instead of guilty, which is harder than it sounds when you're bleeding on the floor with supernatural evidence written on your face.

Dad's eyebrows climb so high they're in danger of disappearing into his hairline entirely. "You don't know?"

"How do you not know?" Mom demands, her voice reaching frequencies that probably alert dogs in neighboring counties. "Mate bonds aren't subtle, Julia. They're like getting hit by a truck made of lightning and destiny!"

Amy, who's been watching this interrogation like it's the world's most entertaining tennis match, pipes up helpfully. "Maybe she hit her head harder than we thought. Memory loss?"

I shoot her a grateful look, which she completely misses because she's too busy examining the mark on my chin like it's a fascinating science experiment.

"That's not how head injuries work," Dad says, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "And mate bonds don't just... appear overnight. There's a process. Recognition, acknowledgment, marking..."

He trails off, staring at me with growing suspicion.

"Unless," he says slowly, "the marking happened without proper bond recognition."

Mom gasps like someone just told her that Christmas has been canceled. "That's not possible. Is it?"

"Forced markings are extremely rare," Dad says, his voice getting that careful, deadly quiet tone that means someone is about to be in very serious trouble. "And highly illegal in supernatural law."

Oh, shit. This is not going in a good direction.

"It wasn't forced!" I say quickly, then immediately realize I've just admitted that I was conscious and willing during the marking process.

"So you do remember," Dad says, pouncing on my slip-up like a cat on a very stupid mouse.

"I..." I flounder, trying to backtrack. "I mean... it's complicated."

"Complicated how?" Mom asks, her maternal interrogation skills kicking into high gear. "Either you remember or you don't, Julia."

Amy snorts from the doorway. "Nothing about Julia's life is ever uncomplicated. Remember the penguin incident?"

"This is not the time to bring up the penguin!" I snap.

"What penguin?" Dad asks, momentarily distracted.

"She shot a penguin instead of a vampire," Amy explains helpfully. "With a crossbow. The penguin was very offended."

"Focus!" Mom claps her hands like she's calling a very distracted classroom to attention. "We're talking about mate marks, not Julia's concerning history with wildlife!"

Dad shakes his head, clearly trying to get back on track. "Julia, I need you to think very carefully. When did you first encounter this vampire?"

The question hangs in the air like a trap waiting to spring, and I realize I'm about to either have to tell the truth or come up with the most creative lie of my life.

"Recently," I say, which is technically true and also completely unhelpful.

"How recently?" Dad presses.

"Very recently."

"Julia." His voice carries that Beta authority that usually makes pack members confess to things they didn't even do. "Define recently."

I look around the bathroom desperately, like the shower curtain might suddenly develop the ability to create a distraction or maybe a portal to another dimension where I don't have to answer these questions.

"Like... yesterday recently?" I offer weakly.

Mom makes a sound like a deflating balloon. "Yesterday? You met your mate yesterday and got marked and didn't think to mention it?"

"I was processing!" I protest. "It's a lot to take in! You can't just expect someone to immediately announce 'Hey, family, I found my soulmate and he's our mortal enemy, pass the salt!'"

"You absolutely can expect that!" Dad bellows, then seems to remember we're in a bathroom and lowers his voice. "That's exactly what you're supposed to do! Mate bonds are pack business, Julia!"

Amy raises her hand like she's in school. "Question. If she met him yesterday, how did they progress to marking so quickly? Doesn't that usually take weeks? Months? Years of courtship and getting to know each other?"

All eyes turn to me, and I feel like a bug under a microscope being examined by very confused scientists.

"We... connected quickly?" I try.

"How quickly?" Mom asks suspiciously.

"Very quickly."

"Julia," Dad says, his voice dropping to that dangerous level again, "exactly how much time did you spend with this vampire before he marked you?"

I do some quick mental math, trying to figure out how to make "approximately thirty minutes total across three encounters" sound like a reasonable courtship period.

"Enough time," I say finally.

"Enough time for what?" Amy asks with the kind of curiosity that's going to get me in even more trouble.

"Enough time to... know," I finish lamely.

Dad stares at me for a long moment, and I can practically see him trying to puzzle out how his daughter went from "never mentioned a vampire" to "permanently marked by a vampire" in the span of 24 hours without anyone noticing.

"Let me get this straight," he says slowly. "You met a vampire yesterday, somehow developed a mate bond with him, allowed him to mark you, and didn't think any of this was worth mentioning to your family."

"When you put it like that, it sounds bad," I admit.

"It IS bad!" Mom shrieks. "It's terrible! It's a disaster! It's—"

"Actually kind of impressive," Amy interrupts. "I mean, most people take months to find their mates. Julia managed it in a day. That's efficient."

"This is not about efficiency!" Dad snaps. "This is about pack safety! Pack loyalty! Pack—"

He stops mid-sentence, his face going through several color changes as a new thought occurs to him.

"Where did you meet him?" he asks quietly.

Oh, no. This is definitely a trap question.

"Around," I say vaguely.

"Around where?"

"Just... around. You know. Places."

"What places, Julia?"

I look desperately at Amy, who shrugs like she's not about to save me from this particular hole I've dug for myself.

"The lake?" I offer, since that's technically where I first saw him, even if it's not where the marking happened.

Mom and Dad exchange a look that suggests they're communicating in some kind of parent telepathy that definitely doesn't bode well for me.

"The lake where you almost drowned," Dad says slowly.

"Yes."

"The lake where we found vampire scent."

"Yes."

"The lake where you claimed you didn't remember how you got out of the water."

Oh, shit. I'm starting to see where this is going, and I don't like the destination.

"Maybe?" I squeak.

"Julia," Mom says, her voice getting that scary calm tone that means she's about to lose her mind completely, "are you telling me that this vampire saved your life and then marked you?"

"Not... immediately," I say weakly. "There was some time in between."

"How much time?"

"Like... a day?"