Chapter 11. Biology Lesson

Alex gave a short, amused snort at my combative expression, but this time he took the question entirely seriously. Leaning back in his chair, he turned the empty cup thoughtfully between his fingers, as though preparing not just to answer, but to deliver a proper little lecture.

“Right then, brace yourself, young vet. I’m about to shatter a few of your girlish stereotypes,” he smirked.

I snorted inwardly. Oh, absolutely. At vet school, they’d taught me to treat cows, castrate piglets, and figure out why some poor cat had decided the best way to communicate its illness was to piss in its owner’s shoe. What nobody, apparently, had thought to include in the curriculum was a module called “What to do when a nineteen-year-old werewolf who could bite through a bear’s spine sits down opposite you at your own kitchen table.”

Still, I decided not to complain. I needed information, and right now I intended to get as much of it as I could.

I wrapped my fingers tighter round my cup and forced myself not to fidget. As a child, I’d done exactly that whenever my grandmother launched into her endless tales of monsters, enchanted forests, and creatures that sensible folk gave a wide berth. I’d lean forward, forgetting everything else, hanging on every word as if my life depended on it.

Funny. Back then, I was listening to fairy tales.

Now one of those fairy tales was sitting right opposite me, drinking coffee as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Right, maturity then...” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “Physiologically, we mature a little earlier than humans. Around twelve to fourteen, in human years, the cubs hit a massive hormone spike, and that’s roughly when the first shift happens. The body begins to change, and the beast makes itself known. But until we’re sixteen, we’re under near-constant supervision — parents, mentors, the Alpha. Training, studying, duties. By evening, we’ve barely got enough energy left to crawl into bed. Any attempts at romance in human form are stamped out fast by the elders.”

I paused to think.

If you set aside the whole ‘shifting’ business, they weren’t actually all that different from humans. Around the same age, ordinary teenagers went through their own biological upheaval: hormones in chaos, bodies steadily morphing from child to adult. Nothing mystical. Just plain physiology.

The funny thing, though, was this. From what Alex was telling me, children in the pack grew up knowing their bodies would change, and no one pretended otherwise. In our human world — especially that part of it so fond of moralising about ‘decency’ and ‘proper upbringing’ — there seemed to be an unspoken rule that until you turned eighteen, you existed in some kind of sterile bubble. No sexual maturity, no desire, no complex physiological processes at all. According to this remarkable logic, you weren’t supposed to learn about any of it until you were eighteen either. And then — bam! — you were suddenly an adult, and all those supposedly non-existent functions miraculously appeared overnight.

I smiled faintly to myself. Looked like werewolves, at least, were more honest about nature. Their children remained children for as long as the adults deemed them so, but nobody tried to convince biology that hormones ought to observe age restrictions.

Out loud, however, I said something entirely different:

“That strict, is it?” I raised an eyebrow, gripping my cup a little tighter.

“Wait,” I interrupted, holding up a finger. “Don’t young she-wolves get pregnant from all this? If you lot have a hormone festival every year, you ought to be breeding like rabbits!”

Alex laughed, openly and without the slightest malice. The movement sent a ripple of muscle across his ribs, right over those same frightening, jagged scars, and I found myself looking at him a little longer than I had intended.

“Sasha, you’re forgetting one important thing. True mates.”

I frowned for a moment. True mates? Was that like ordinary wolves choosing a single partner and staying with them for life? Or was it something more complicated? Judging by the way Alex had said it, probably the latter.

“True mates?” I repeated. “What does that mean? Is it like when a wolf chooses one partner for life?”

“Not exactly. Though the basic idea is the same,” Alex replied. “Our physiology isn’t all that different from human physiology. But mentally, we’re still somewhat different. Theoretically, a she-wolf can conceive during the rut, but a wolf cub will only be born if it’s conceived with the partner with whom she’s formed a true bond. In both human and wolf form. And such pairs are rare. Very rare.”

I fell silent for a moment, trying to get my head around it. So it wasn’t simply a matter of choosing who she wanted to have a child with. Somehow, her own body determined whether a particular partner was compatible with her. It sounded strange, but in a world where a human could turn into a wolf, perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised by yet another biological oddity.

“So casual flings don’t work?” I asked, trying to keep my voice as ordinary and clinical as possible.

“Exactly. Nature has provided a safeguard against unnecessary chaos.”

“Right,” I muttered, digesting what I’d heard. “So your nature is more foresighted than ours.”

I looked at him again, trying to work out whether I’d missed something. If everything really worked that way, there was one next question that seemed perfectly obvious.

“But you still haven’t answered the main question, Alex. How many partners have you had during these ... spring ruts?”

Alex raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. Golden flecks danced in his amber eyes, while his gaze briefly slid over my chest, making me regret once again that I hadn’t grabbed a proper towel or at least a dressing gown. But Alex seemed completely oblivious to my embarrassment.

“Three.”

“Three?” I echoed, my scientific curiosity giving way to genuine surprise for a moment.

“All in spring. No love, no promises, no grand plans. Just biology. When the instincts became too ... insistent. If you like, simply a way of relieving the tension.” He shrugged. “And getting back to your earlier question. I’ve heard that some shift back into human form and go deeper into the woods. Everyone knows perfectly well why they’ve gone there. No illusions.”