How not to hate your tru.., p.1
How Not to Hate Your True Mate: M/M Werewolf Romance, page 1
Copyright © 2025 F.N. Manning
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction for entertainment purposes. Content on the cover is used for illustrative purposes only and includes a model from a stock photo. Names, characters, places, and incidents in this book are either made up by the author or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
1.Once Upon a (Crappy) Time
2.Special Delivery
3.Handle With Care
4.Teaming Up with an Enemy
5.Battling Bloodsuckers
6.Seeing is Believing
7.Be Careful What You Wish for
8.Sparring
9.Magical Moments
10.Backseat Bane
11.Mates With Benefits
12.The Strings Attached
13.Happily Never After?
14.The First Heartbreak
15.Alpha vs. Mates
16.The Blame Game
17.Courting, The Second Time Around
18.Dating Comes Before Mating
19.Countdown to The Real Thing
20.Fight Night Approaches
21.Defying Fate
22.Grudge Match
23.Prison Break
24.The Fight of Your Life
25.Pack Business
26.Happily (N)ever After
1.
Once Upon a (Crappy) Time
Josh
My paws pound against the earth. The muted browns and greens of the forest blur together. Branches snap and wind whips past my face as I sprint through the trees.
Normally, I don’t mind stopping to smell the wildflowers or getting lost in the primal beauty of the forest.
But there’s no time to get distracted.
Can’t slow down now. Gotta hurry.
Weaving between the thick trunks of towering oak trees, my paws dig into the soft ground while picking up speed, muscles rippling beneath sandy blond fur.
Why rush through the forest like my tail is on fire? Am I on an important mission? Or racing to the assistance of a pack member in distress? Tracking elusive prey?
Nope. Just late for work. I lost track of time at The Clover Pack’s cookout and bonfire.
Once I hit the tree line and find the main road, I keep running. The sun sinks lower past the mountain range in the distance, creating a golden glow over everything the light touches.
Nobody will freak out over seeing a wolf bolt out of the forest. Everyone in the hidden sanctuary of Concordia has some connection to the supernatural world. Moving here at sixteen changed everything. No more hiding in the human world.
I love Concordia and the Clover Pack.
It’s myself that I’m still trying to figure out.
Crossing into the city, I shift back into my human form fully dressed thanks to the charm on my keychain. Ah, the perks of living in a magical city.
I catch a glimpse of myself in a shop window, the same hazel eyes and sandy blond hair that belongs to my wolf. In either form, I remain relatively small and slender, easily blending into the bustling crowd on the street.
Colorful buildings full of unique magical wares line up along the paved streets, run by the multiple covens who founded Concordia and continue to shield us from the human world.
“Look out!”
“Duck!”
A group of young witches zip by on broomsticks and I duck as they fly overhead. Their laughter rings out when they soar past, leaving trails of sparkling light in their wake. I grin at their antics.
The flashy red sports car speeding toward me at the intersection, however, is way less amusing.
The engine roars like a beast as the car takes the corner too fast, cutting me off. I leap back to the curb, all too familiar with the obnoxious vehicle and the more obnoxious man driving it.
Does Bane Blackwood think he’s above the laws of the road and plan to breeze through the red light? Arrogant asshole.
But he brakes hard at the last second, car tires screeching. The convertible rests just over the edge of where pedestrians can cross.
“Watch out!” I shout after nearly becoming roadkill. “You could have killed me!”
“Were we that close?” murmurs his companion in the passenger seat, voice carrying thanks to the top down in the red convertible.
“Not even.” Bane smirks, knowing I hear every word. “Besides, that guy is a wolf. He has fast reflexes. Or he’s supposed to.”
The Iron Pack lives on the other end of the city. As the Alpha’s son, Bane’s the epitome of arrogance, arrogance, and oh yeah, more arrogance.
The car idles in the road, waiting for the light to turn green. After already drawing enough attention to myself, I stay put instead of crossing in front of their vehicle. What if I walk by and Bane’s foot slips off the brake ‘accidentally?’ Not very likely but why give him a free shot?
Staying on the curb means I’m stuck staring at the side of Bane’s profile. His unfairly gorgeous profile.
Bane towers over everyone, a testament to his super tall, super jacked lineage of the finest specimens werewolfkind offers. Because life is unfair sometimes, he’s also effortlessly stunning. His winning smile, styled chestnut hair, and captivating golden eyes ensnare both men and women alike—something I’ve unfortunately witnessed more than once.
He leans over and speaks to his date. “You’re going to love the restaurant. It’s one of the most exclusive spots in Concordia.”
The date, an attractive young man with jet-black hair, practically swoons at Blackwood’s words. Does this guy think he’s special? He’s dead wrong. Bane is a master at first dates but rarely seeks out a second.
The jerk makes a show of checking his watch. “We’re running a little late.”
“Oh no,” says the date. “Do you think we’ll get there in time?”
“It’s fine. They’ll hold the table for me.”
What a careless ass, wasting other people’s time and expecting the world to cater to him. The date hears it differently, that Bane’s special.
I guess he is. Only certain wolves inherit alpha genetics. Not every wolf is Bane Blackwood. Driving around in a sleek sports car, always wearing that brown leather bomber jacket that cannot possibly be authentic.
He turns heads. Even mine whenever he zooms by with someone pretty on his arm that neither of us will ever see again. We aren’t acquaintances or even true enemies, no matter how much I loathe him. The distance between us at the crosswalk might be the closest we’ve ever been.
“Bane. Hey, the light’s green.”
The date’s voice pulls me out of daydreaming. Bane’s staring at me, waiting for me to notice. Smirking his most asshole smirk, the one that burrows under my skin every time, broadcasting ‘I’m better than you and I know it’ loud and clear.
The engine revs and the car speeds away, leaving me behind.
Why does everything come so easily to Bane Blackwood? Why does he bother me so much? And why… why…
“Why am I standing here?” I ask out loud.
Right, work. Gotta hurry. Oops. Totally forgot. I pick up the pace and rush down the street.
Bane’s comfortable in his own skin. He belongs. Meanwhile, I’m rushing to my crappy part-time job. Twenty-two years old with no purpose or direction.
The Clover Pack rocks. But those wolves have lived here their whole lives and share so much history. I’m the outsider who joined four years ago when my mom married a pack werewolf.
And magic flows through the streets of Concordia, enchanting and amazing. A perfect home for witches. Too bad my mother’s magic skipped a generation.
Will I find my place here when finding the one? I sure hope so. The man I belong with, my true mate. Maybe everything will finally click into place and I’ll never have to wonder where I belong again.
Until then, my plan involves avoiding assholes like Bane and going to work on time.
2.
Special Delivery
Josh
I rush through the door of Fern and Flower, nearly tripping over my own feet. The clock offers good news: I arrive on time with four whole seconds to spare. Phew. The assistant manager complains endlessly if I’m late.
My mom stands behind the counter instead, brewing a potion in a portable cauldron. The urgency drains away when clocking in at the register. No need to rush after all.
Lelia Fielding excels at potioncraft, not clairvoyancy, yet she lifts her head and casts narrowed eyes in my direction, sure she knows what I’m thinking. No witchcraft needed here, that’s a mom power.
Working under her supervision has only sharpened her abilities. With hands raised in surrender, I clear away the ingredients she’s finished with, hoping to avoid a lecture since she’s busy with a customer.
A young guy wearing an olive-colored wool beanie gasps each time Mom adds anything to the pot, his face filled with wonder. Classic signs of a magical newbie.
“Is that a good sign?” the man at the counter wonders when a plume of dark smoke rises from the cauldron.
&n
Unkempt dark hair peeks out under the beanie, nearly reaching his tired eyes, and stubble shadows his features. Lost and burdened by some impossible problem, he seeks a magical solution. Happens all the time.
“The potion will help me figure out who my true mate is?”
Mom and I trade amused looks before she answers. “Fate runs on its own unpredictable kind of magic.”
Every supernatural being has a fated mate. Whether lucky enough to live in a hidden sanctuary or hiding in the human world, we can Recognize our destined one.
“I like him,” the customer explains. “We’ve been together for a while now. But am I ready to commit? It’s a huge decision, especially since we aren’t fated. I would know by now if we were, right?”
“Likely,” she answers. “Though some people take longer than others to open up.” She sprinkles a pinch of powdered moonstone into the cauldron. The pink powder dissolves and the liquid inside starts bubbling.
What mysterious power transcends even magic and reveals soulmates? Love, of course.
Some claim it’s basically love at first sight. But not visual sight. Glimpsing who a person really is matters more than appearance.
See them in their element, during an important moment, or around what they care about. Things like that. Genuine, real moments let soulmates Recognize each other. My stepfather Recognized my mother when he saw her give me a quick hug before ducking into work.
Soulmates don’t always Recognize each other right away. Some people hide their true selves and don’t open up easily. Others aren’t open to love or fate, which also complicates things. But with an open heart and a mate who lets their guard down, it will happen.
“What if the perfect man is out there and I’m not even looking for him because I’m busy wasting my time on something that won’t last?” The customer’s fretting ends as the liquid in the cauldron changes from a dark crimson to a pale pink. “Whoa, cool.”
Mom adds some of her magic, and the potion froths and then goes still. “Do you want it to last?”
He fidgets, wringing his hands together. “I don’t know. I mean, shouldn’t I wait for true love if he’s not the guy for me?”
“You may be waiting for someone who will never arrive or who has already chosen someone else.” Her eyes fall on me for a moment as she smiles. “And even the wrong person can be the right choice. My relationship ended with the man I chose for myself, but I wouldn’t change a thing since it brought me my son.” Mom stirs the cauldron and pours the now shimmery pale liquid into a teardrop-shaped bottle. “This should give you clarity.”
“This will tell me whether my boyfriend is my destined partner?”
She shakes her head. “Soulmates happen in their own time. Trying to rush things with magic almost never works. This potion will help reveal what’s in your heart. When you understand your desires, the answers will decide where you go from there.”
Figuring out his feelings is all the customer can do. Too many variables are involved to guarantee everything will line up and you’ll meet your soulmate, Recognize them, and live happily ever after. Not everyone waits for their true mate or even meets them. It happens fairly often in Concordia, but even here some people don’t put much stock in the concept and would rather make their own choice.
I understand where this guy’s coming from. I am hoping to find the one destined for me. If there’s a place I belong, it’s by that man’s side. Whenever I feel lost and find myself on the outside looking in, I long for the person fate has chosen for me.
Mom hands the potion bottle to the customer and writes out instructions for its use while I ring the man up. He watches after my mother like she’s a genius. ‘Follow your heart’ isn’t exactly earth-shattering advice but the cliché does have more power when paired with a magic potion.
The customer leaves, and I’m restocking the novelty charms by the register when my mother calls out to me. “Josh, can you come here? I have an important job for you.”
If only.
Helping customers reveal their heart’s desires and brewing up magical potions in a cauldron aren’t my job. The guy with no magic does all the grunt work around here. By ‘important,’ she means some task that must be done right now.
Sure enough, she hands me a dark-purple bottle with a long stem. “Special delivery. It needs to go out now.”
“Is this why you aren’t at the bonfire?”
“Heading there now.” She sighs, exasperation creeping into her voice. “But Thalia promised one-day delivery. And if you promise Elias Blackwood one-day delivery, you follow through.”
Oh. That explains why the assistant manager left and Mom’s still here. “Except that wasn’t a promise she could follow through on.” If the Iron Pack Alpha personally places an order, only the head of the coven can fill the order. Only the best for Elias Blackwood.
“Exactly.”
The Fern Coven rarely fills orders from the Iron Pack and never from the Alpha. Not with my mom the high priestess married to a prominent wolf in the Clover Pack. Whatever Elias Blackwood requested must be important. This is a delicate transaction. Everything needs to go smoothly.
“I’m trusting you, Josh. Make sure Mr. Blackwood receives the potion. Only hand it over to the Alpha.”
“Got it. No dropping it off at the door.”
She gives me a stern look. “This is serious.”
“I know, and I’ll take care of it right now.”
One V.I.P. delivery coming up. No problem.
Mom’s nervous considering the client, but deliveries aren’t difficult. I’ve done hundreds of them. Sure, I’ve never been to the Iron territory before, but a delivery is a delivery.
How hard could it be?
3.
Handle With Care
Josh
Night air whips through my fur as I sprint through the darkness. If I weren’t on a mission, I’d stop and pay more attention to my surroundings. It isn’t often I find myself on this side of our borders.
The mountains loom overhead, much closer on this side. Jagged shadows ascending in the darkness. The river on the Clover side and this mountain range provide natural barriers, along with powerful concealment and protection spells that keep humans away.
The rest of the territory looks similar to ours, except for the thick iron wall caging in their pack land. The sole means of passage is through the front gates.
I skid to a halt at the edge of the Iron territory. Not wanting to appear threatening or like I’m sneaking, I shift back into human form and walk on the main road toward the gates.
Two massive wolves spring out from the shadows, shifting in midair and transforming into burly Iron Pack guards. Whoa! I clench the potion bottle tightly to avoid accidentally dropping the reason I’m here.
“State your business,” demands one guard.
“I-I’m here to deliver a potion,” I stammer.
They swing their flashlights directly into my eyes, making it hard to see their faces clearly. From what I can see, they’re around my age. Maybe a few years older, yet three times as big.
“Why are you making a delivery this late at night?” one of the guards growls.
“Elias Blackwood requested a potion from the Fern and Flower,” I explain. “The coven didn’t want to keep him waiting.”
The guards straighten up when I drop their Alpha’s name, conferring with each other. It really isn’t late, only after nine. If they’re upset about an unfamiliar wolf on their land after dark, maybe their pack should try getting along with us. Then we wouldn’t be strangers. Our pack tries to be friendly, but the Iron wolves keep their distance, acting like they’re better than us.
“He look like a delivery man to you?” one guard inquires to the other.
“No, he sure doesn’t.”
“I’m not any delivery man,” I interrupt them as they talk about me like I’m not here. “I’m from the coven.”
One guard snorts. “Oh, are you a witch? Are you a girl?”
I grit my teeth and grind out, “All magic users are called witches.”
“Why?”
“I’m not here to give you a magical lesson.”
Truthfully, I don’t remember why. One of the many lessons I’ve learned and forgotten over the years. Though magic is fascinating, it’s too painful to study. The wolf genes from my dad cancel out my mom’s witch side. Few wolves develop magical skills and I’m one of the unlucky ones.
