Heart Mates by Mary Hughes

neck.”
    He cautiously extended his head. Sophia knelt and fastened it around his furry neck. It was too loose.
    She took it off and selected a smaller bracelet, which happened to be a sparkling pink.
    King growled.
    “Quiet. You get a collar or you don’t go out.”
    King bared teeth and started yapping loud and fast, as if he was reading her the riot act. He even stomped once as if for emphasis, his package bobbling in a way that reminded her forcefully he was not in any way an “it”.
    “ Okay .” She put the pink bracelet back. “Happy now?”
    King gave a final snarl and shut his mouth.
    “This doesn’t mean I think you understand me.” She sorted through the rest of the bracelets. “Wereterrier? Please. No shifters of any domesticated breed except cat, and those don’t count. Even house cats aren’t truly domesticated.” She picked out an emerald bracelet with a hook on one end and a chain on the other. Not as sturdy as the blue or pink with their solid clasps, but it had the advantage of being sizable. “Although one might argue all ferrets are weres. Does this one meet with Your Highness’s approval?”
    King gave a disgruntled yip, but he sat still while she put it on. It seemed secure so she tied on some thick string as a makeshift leash and headed out for Marlowe’s place.
    First morning light, cut with the long shadows, dusted the sidewalk and glittered off dew, golden light that made the whole day seem fresh and ripe with possibilities.
    Sophia nearly shared her thoughts with King, realized how foolish it was, and clamped her lips.
    Which was foolish too. If talking to King made her feel good, what was wrong with that? In fact, maybe “talking to King” was really only working through her problems out loud. That wasn’t crazy.
    Although the thinking-he-answered part probably was.
    Oh well. Who was around to notice? She smiled again. “So, King. Where do you think Noah went? Should we try to find him?” Given everything she’d heard about Marlowe, it would be nice to have the big strong alpha by her side.
    With a yip, King whirled and trotted in the other direction. Her gut jolted. Had he understood and caught the trail?
    He trotted toward a tree.
    She laughed. Right, he could “understand” her. “Okay, hurry up and do your business. With what everyone’s been saying about him, the earlier the better to confront Marlowe.”
    King whirled again and almost upended himself, like he was expecting a bigger counterweight than his little stub of a tail. He recovered immediately, braced his hind end and barked at her like he meant it.
    “Fine.” She raised a hand. “Do your business and I’ll take you home before I go.”
    “Yip yip. ” King glared.
    That was a “no way” if she’d ever heard one. “Well, I’m going to Marlowe’s, and I’m going now. Are you coming or not?”
    He gave a disgruntled “yes” of a yip.
    She hid a smile. “Then let’s go.”
    She thought she’d just knock and ask a few polite questions. But when she got to the address a block past the sidewalk’s end, she was confronted by a yard-circling hedge as friendly as bailed wire. Remembering Miss Almira’s warnings, fear splashed into her blood.
    She crunched with King up the driveway through the weed-choked lot. A hand-painted sign with red drips read, Go away or get shot .
    Subtle.
    She wanted to laugh at the corny sign, wanted to laugh off her fear, but as she mounted the stoop to the rusty trailer with the blackout windows, King gave a worried little yip. Maybe wondering if she was going through with this. Heart pounding in her ears, she was asking herself the same thing.
    Deep breath. She knocked on the door.
    It swung open. Five-ten of punk-assed teen werewolf stared groggily at her.
    “Marlowe?” She kept her stance and gaze neutral, not aggressive but not victimish either.
    His eyes sharpened on her. “Who’s asking?” He stepped out, crowding her back.
    Not just a punk-assed were, but a