My mom decided to give me the talk tonight after dinner, and believe me, I wish it would have been merely about the process of imprinting. About coming upon my soulmate unexpectedly and becoming terrifyingly attached to whomever that may be. About wanting to mate with them every second of my existence, and thinking of nothing but marking them and sealing that bond forever. I'd give anything for it to have been an uncomfortable conversation like that-like a more complicated sex talk. Nope. It was so much worse.

Before tonight, I didn’t know I was a Shadow. I didn’t know the term existed to describe anything other than what happens when something or someone blocks part of a light source. Well…it does, and apparently my “condition” is so rare that it’s not unusual that I’ve never heard of my brand of werewolf before now. Mom told me that there are even Healers who are unaware of Shadows, and most of them are incredibly old beings. The knowledge of Healers covers more than could possibly be stored in a brain, so it’s not in any way comforting that my genetics are such a well kept secret in our world.

Mom explained that it wasn’t something I developed over time, but it began the day I was born. Since then, my body temperature has been startlingly low. That’s why I was always told I had a sort of illness. It would have been nice to know it was a trait linked to my specific breed instead. Werewolves are known to run a consistent fever by human standards, so chilly infant Sam was definitely a red flag. Apparently our Healer at the time didn’t have a clue what to do, so Mom took me all the way from our home in Tantern Michigan to a pack on the coast of Maine. She wanted answers, and her best friend from college, Ruby, is the Healer of the pack settled there. 

It took Ruby all of two seconds to figure infant me out. She’d probably known since Mom called and told her what was going on, but she had to see it for herself. It was too much to simply “diagnose” such a thing over the phone. Healers perform their work through the power of energies, so she had to be in my presence to detect what was going on with mine.  

I merely listened as Mom told the story of my life tonight. It couldn’t even be considered a conversation. It was more like she was listing facts as fast as she could because she wasn’t so sure of it herself. Because it’s too unreal how it checks all my boxes. She rarely gets emotional, but I could see the lines in her face deepening as she fought to hold herself together about...all of it.  

Mom said that Shadow werewolves run cold from the inside, out. As a result, they’re more even-tempered than typical werewolves. Check.

Shadows don’t have heightened strength, speed, or smell in human form. Only as wolves. Check again.

When she told me that unmated Shadows are unable to heal themselves as other werewolves do, I almost left our house without a word. Triple check. But she pushed on in order to explain that me taking longer to recover from illness or injury than the most basic humans is also a trait. Because Shadows can only be healed by the touch of the one we imprint upon, and something about the way she stated it so tightly told me that she already knows why I’ve barely been home recently. Because I’ve felt it. The pull of an unfamiliar power leading my every step for the past two weeks.

Mom paused to eye me and my lack of any sort of reaction before she continued with barely a voice. Before she told me that a mated Shadow (one who has marked their mate with their bite), is almost unstoppable. That their senses and reflexes increase to levels higher than any Alpha. Then she closed with the kicker that Shadows die when their mate dies, and vice versa. The bond isn’t a typical werewolf and mate link, but a lifeline. 

Mom stayed silent for a while after reciting a clearly rehearsed list, catching her breath as I absorbed everything. Most of it sounded familiar. I’d always been the weakest. The sick kid. The strangely calm and quiet boy-man-whatever-the-hell I am at this point.

So I just stared at my hands on the kitchen table when she stopped speaking. Hands covered in scars because no scratch ever fully healed. The slightest touch of a branch marked my skin forever. I’d been told, “You have a rare disease that you’ll grow out of as you mature,” my whole damn life. Mom said that’s what Ruby advised she must tell me, and everyone else. To protect me. Because according to Ruby, Shadow werewolves who discover their true identity will likely desert their packs in search of their mate, no matter how old they are. They run out of fear. Out of a soul-driven desperation to imprint and mark their mate before they die of something minor.

With tears coating her soft, worn cheeks, Mom told me stories of children running away, only to be found dead days later. “I didn’t want that to happen to you,” she sobbed. “I knew I could...that the pack could protect you until you were old enough. Until you had learned how to survive.”

I’m twenty...almost twenty-one. Most werewolves imprint in their teens, and mark as soon as they're both eighteen. How long was she planning to wait to tell me?

“And you’ve decided I’m old enough, or you found out about him?” It took all the strength I had, which apparently wasn’t much, to keep my voice even.

I could tell by the way her dark eyes dropped to the table that she knew I’d imprinted. The fact that she’d decided to have this talk with me to begin with was no doubt driven by that simple fact.  

“How long have you known?”

“Two weeks.” Her raspy whisper chilled me even more than my core temperature. “You leave the house every night and don’t return until dawn.” She sighed heavily, her voice catching on a shallow breath. “You’ve never done that before.”

So she’s known since day one.

“I don’t mean to treat you like a child.” She basically read my mind. “But there are more details to this that you must know.”

More than I’m basically a helpless runt? Great. I waited, watching the light from the overhanging lamp above us flicker across her tears. The tiny droplets stuck in the wrinkles on her face, clinging like if they were to fall they'd bring the house down with them.

“Your imprint is different. As you’ve noticed, you’re able to control your emotions and...urges better than those you’ve witnessed go through this same thing.” Mom took a shaky breath before continuing.

“Your main focus is to protect him. Above all else. It will...it is overwhelming you. Which…” She trailed off, covering her mouth with trembling fingers.

“Which is dangerous because I’ll do anything to protect him, and I’m the easiest person in the world to kill.” I finished the sentence for her.

She attempted to swallow, but it caught instead as a sob in her throat.

“I’ll be careful.” I tried to put her at ease, but my voice was too flat to accomplish much.

“But you won’t, and I know that you can’t help it. So please, Sam...please. I know you haven’t made yourself known to him. Get to know him so when...if anything bad happens, he can save you!” Her voice rose and she dropped her hand against the wooden surface of the table with a resounding thud.

“How do you know I haven’t…?” My voice faded in confusion.

“Oh.” She whispered. “Shadows...are marked when they form the first mutual connection to their mates after the imprint takes place.” She shook her head a little and reached for my face.

“It will appear here.” Mom gently brushed the skin beside my left eye. “Small. Dark. A tiny...shadow.”

“Uh...why?” I forced myself to blink.

“There are those who will...” Mom’s voice had newfound strength as it deepened. “Since you are linked in life and death to your mate, there are those who will seek you out. Both of you.” She sounded robotic, and I realized it was terror in her tone. Something I’d never heard from her before. “There is a legend that the one who kills a Shadow takes their life.”

Well...isn’t that the definition of killing…?  

Mom stared blankly at the tabletop while she gathered her explanation together. “If anyone kills you, they will become a part of this pack, merging their own with ours if they aren’t a Rogue. They’ll replace you in the memories of everyone you’ve ever met. They will erase you. Their only consequence will be becoming a Shadow themselves.”

My face felt frozen, but there was something moving inside my chest. There was a pull inward. There was pain. For the first time in my life, I was truly angry. I left before I could take it out on her.

So here I am, crouching in the purple-flowered bush behind his house.