His Human

Prologue

The streets were almost deserted as Asha walked home from another long shift at the clothing factory. Her feet ached, her hands were raw, and her mind refused to settle. Images from earlier, the kind that always fed her nightmares, kept replaying.

Her best friend, Gracie, had found her "soulmate", or at least that was what the man had claimed. In truth, he simply wanted someone to control.

The bond that supposedly tied werewolves to their mates was ridiculous. It was all "mine" and "mate". The whole idea felt possessive and primitive, and the wolves managed to make the concept of love sound like an insult to basic dignity.

Asha's thoughts stopped abruptly when she saw a deep purple envelope lying on the doorstep of her tiny flat. The colour alone told her it was expensive and completely out of place in the slums. The royal seal glinted in the fading light.

She bent down, picked it up, and carefully tore the soft, rich paper. She saved every intact piece because it would sell for a fortune at the market. Inside was a letter written in elegant, scripted ink.

Asha Fae,

It is with great pleasure and hospitality that you are formally invited to this year's Mating Ball, as you have now reached the age of seventeen. We wish you luck in your evening and hope you find your other half. The ball will be held on the 28th of January. You must wear your best gown. If you do not own one, you are required to purchase one before the 28th.

Asha stared at the message in disbelief. She had never been summoned before. She had always been too young, too busy working, and too invisible. She had heard plenty of stories from the other girls in the slums, girls who had gone, girls who had found mates, and girls who had returned with haunted expressions.

Fear tightened in her chest as she read the date again. The 28th was just one week away.

She had only one week to find a way to stay unnoticed.

And who exactly did they think she was supposed to be. She could barely afford food for herself. A gown was beyond her reach, and a fine gown was nothing more than a cruel joke.