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But I’ve been holding off. Waiting for something.

And today that something came.

My face hurts from how wide I’m grinning as I downshift the truck and tear out of the driveway like my tail’s on fire. Gravel kicks up in the rearview. Birds scatter. My Bull lets out a snort of sheer joy inside me.

I’ve never felt this light. This free.

Because today, I got a call.

Not just from anyone, but from one Sergio Gravino, a private investigator, and apparently a Bull Shifter, just like me.

Turns out, our very own Alpha Max has a cousin in high places. Specifically, at a company called PRIC.

Private Resourceful Investigative Contractors.

Yeah. That’s a thing. And yeah, Zeke laughed for ten solid minutes when I told him.

Still is, probably.

But names don’t matter. What Sergio told me does.

“Hello son, I understand you have some questions about your species of Shifter?”

“Yes, sir. Specifically, uh, the Rut.”

“Goddamnit. Are they still passing that load of crap around? Where did you hear about it, anyway? Never mind, doesn’t matter. Look, son, the Rut is nothing but a story. A legend. Something fathers told their daughters to scare ’em out of getting knocked up by a Bull. It doesn’t exist.”

I nearly dropped the phone.

“Are you sure?” I asked, barely breathing.

“Positive. What does exist is the occasional Bull with no morals and a wandering dick. But blaming the Rut? That’s just coward talk. You got a mate?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Then stop worrying. If she’s your fated, then your Bull won’t ever want another.”

I nearly cried. Honest to gods.

I muttered something about my whole life feeling like it had an axe over it and how he’d just changed everything.

Sergio snorted.

“Yeah, well, tell Mother Leeds she owes me dinner. I mean I would do it for her, anyway. That woman scares the shit outta me.”

“Same.”

That was fifteen minutes ago. And now, I’m speeding down the long dusty path toward the dairy barn, where the scent of herbs and sunshine leads me straight to my mate.

Arliss.

She’s in the cold room, dressed in jeans and an apron, a streak of goat cheese on her cheek and her golden hair pulled back in a messy knot that has me all but ready to drop to my knees.

She looks up when I enter, startled at first. But then her whole face lights up.

That smile? It hits me right in the soul.

“Hey, Romeo,” she teases, brushing her hands off on a towel. “You’re early.”