“Soon,” he replied, taking her hand in his own, much larger one. “I will no longer be your Den Father, and you will be a Den Mother in your own right.” He gave her a quick, uncharacteristic hug, squeezing the life from her for one wonderful moment. “Forget about him, Little Wolf. He may not gain even the ear of the Alpha, much less anything else.”
Huh? “Who, Den Father?” Something was not right here. She was still missing something.
His eyes snapped to hers, as if she was being deliberately obtuse. “Gareth, of course,” he told her, face set.
“I wouldn’t want him to gain the ear of a gnat, much less the Alpha!”
The deep rumble of his laugh poured through the room. “Always the wild-cat, even for a wolf,” he teased.
Beth sat in confusion as the bedroom door eased closed behind David. What was going on here? Why would he think she’d want Gareth to approach the Alpha concerning her mating? Unless… oh God. He knew. He knew about the night in the Den House. The night when she’d almost… oh God. Could things get any worse?
Apparently, they could get worse. Much worse. Two weeks had gone by, along with her first heat, and she was scheduled to meet with the Alpha this afternoon concerning her mating ceremony, in which she would be presented to the community as a female ready to mate. It involved a lot of dancing around a fire, shimmering between wolf and human-form, showing off her best attributes. There would be a sparring session, in which she would face the Alpha female of the pack, and prove herself capable of defending her Den House and her future cubs. And there was an examination to be performed by the pack healer, to ascertain that her virtue was not to be questioned.
A lot of preparations had to be made, and a lot of practice with her old instructor, Patina, to be done. She could not possibly dance for the pack without honing her skills. Patina was meeting her in the woods tonight. She would bring the drums, Beth must bring the sass. Sass, she had, in spades.
The short walk to the Alpha’s Great House seemed to take forever. Snippets of gossip reached her ears, and scraps of reflections reached her mind. She wished she knew how to tune them out. The gossip, such as she heard, wasn’t very awful in any way – unless truth hurt, which it did. There were whisperings of herself and Gareth, much of which she didn’t catch. But she had a pretty good idea what was being said. Foolish Little Wolf, falling for the wiles of an attractive Guardian.
The bits and pieces that filtered through to her mind however, they hurt. The derogatory terms the other un-mated females referred to her in were nasty and plain untrue. She was still un-mated, no matter what they believed. Things with Gareth hadn’t progressed quite that much in the short time they’d had together.
It felt like the walk of shame, if she was honest. People staring, some pointing, others giggling and still others, gathering in the shadows beneath the trees, assessing her. The un-mated males. They discussed her as if she was a side of beef. “…hot to trot…wouldn’t mind taking a shot at her…drive a man half crazed…how far Gareth got?” She tried not to hear it. Tried not to listen. But it was impossible.
“…all the way probably!”
“…Den Father…furious…”
“…her great stamina…in bed…”
She wanted to put her hands over her ears. Surely they knew she could hear them. Wouldn’t someone put a stop to it? She felt like a scarlet woman. Passing one of the un-mated males in question, she could sense his hunger in his scent, see his interest in his gaze, and feel his desire in the air around her. She tensed.
This was not an auction. She was not an item, and she was not for sale, damn it! She stopped. “See something you like, Darwin?” she whispered to the male.
He colored a deep red blush and lowered his eyes. “And you, Blaze, do you see something you’d like?” she asked another. His gaze lowered with no hesitation. “And you, Tobias? Anthony? Any of you?” She straightened her back and strode on, satisfied that their gossiping about her was finished for one day. Apart from one little morsel that reached her ears before she got out of range. “Poor Gareth.”
Poor Gareth indeed, thought Beth. He’s the injured party here, isn’t he? Ass.
“Elisabeth,” the Alpha greeted her with a warm smile on his scarred face. He had been a handsome man once, she supposed. He had the coldest eyes she’d ever seen. Colder even than her Den Mother’s, and that was saying something. His dark hair had grown new shocks of silver since she’d last seen him, reminding her of the poor creature she’d freed from the poacher’s trap in the woods. Streaking above his ears, the gray gave him a distinguished appearance, as on an aging college professor.
His generous lips formed a smile, pulling at the scar running from his right eyebrow, across his nose, curling like the careless flick of a pen to an end just at the corner of his mouth above his top lip. It marked him as a fighter, and she would do well not to antagonize him.
“Alpha,” she answered on a whisper. “I come to present myself for your consideration for the mating ritual.” The words drove a stake through her heart, though she hid it well. She no more wanted to go through the archaic ritual than lop off her own arm, but she had no choice. The only way to gain any standing back in this community was to make an honest woman of herself. David was right. It was time.
“I know why you have come,” he took her hand and pulled her to a sitting position beside him on the couch. It was somewhat softer than she would have thought the man preferred. Everything was that bit more opulent than she would have thought, if she was honest. There were plush carpets, and rich wall hangings, a roaring fire and – of all things – fresh flowers in a crystal vase by the window, which was hung with prissy, flower printed drapes.
He noticed her perusal and grinned. “The decor is Melinda’s doing, Little Wolf, not mine. As you might have guessed I am well used to the harsher side of life. Although,” he continued, his thick fingers caressing the brown velvet couch. “There is something to be said for a home that has a female touch.”
She laughed. Melinda was quite the female. As far as Beth knew, Melinda would snap your neck, soon as speak to you, or alternatively die fighting for your life. She was fiercely loyal and frighteningly intense. But sitting here in her home, she could see that underneath it all, she was the same as any other woman. Doting on her mate, creating a comfortable home for her cubs and dotting fresh flowers about the place. Her laugh trickled off and she glanced at her Alpha.
“I don’t think you’re truly ready, Beth,” he told her. “But I also know that there is no other way for you right now. So be it. The ritual will commence two days from this, at moon’s rise.” He rubbed his cheek along hers. “May the decision be a wise one.”
“Thank you, Alpha.” It was done. She was to be mated in two days. She wanted to die. She could feel her eyes well up as she backed out of his presence and willed the tears not to fall. Don’t you dare, Beth, she warned herself. Werewolves may cry, but not half as often as me!
“A moment, Beth,” he called as she reached the threshold, and she paused. “It may interest you to know that we’ve already had an interested party for quite some years.” He waited for her reaction. She offered him a blank face, and he smiled. “He was not from this pack. We have been offered the chance to end the blood-feud between ourselves and our neighbors,” he informed her, a sadness playing in his eyes. “The cost of which… is you.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“Me?” she asked, flabbergasted. How could the price of peace be her? Who would want her so badly? And then she remembered the look on the strange wolf’s face as he said he didn’t know she was here. Could someone from the Tall Grass pack know of her? She knew that not many purebred females had been born in the last twenty years or so, and that each one was a prize in her own right. Someone from the Tall Grass pack was hoping to breed more females from her. That was it. It had to be. There was no other reason.
“Yes, Little Wolf. Another annual messenger from the Tall Grass pack arrived last morning, with
an offer of peace, for the price of the purebred female’s mating rites.” He frowned. Something about the whole thing bothered him, and she needed to know what.
“Forgive me, my Alpha, but surely you can’t offer me to the Tall Grass pack after all the blood shed that has come before?” Her knees were shaking. How could she influence his decision on this?
“I see a great opportunity to create a sense of peace and brotherhood between the wolves,” he replied carefully, examining her reactions. “But, I find I must be candid with you. I also see a chance for the Tall Grass pack to take advantage and bear many purebred females upon you, thereby cementing their own pack while weakening ours.”
She must tread carefully here. He was her Alpha and whatever decision he made, would be his and his alone. But the right words, said with the right inflection, may yet help her cause. “I see. You have a difficult decision to reach, Alpha. Of course,” she continued in a whisper. “I would much prefer to stay here, with the Loam Floor pack, and bolster our own ranks. But if you feel the benefits outweigh the risks, then I must do as you command.”
“It is as you say,” he replied, obviously done speaking, he turned away and faced the fire, deep in his own thoughts.
Beth let herself out and scurried home, ignoring the pack members who had gathered and had yet to disperse. If ever there was a time she needed the solitude of her creek it was now. And consequences be damned, she would have the isolation she craved.
She needed out of these ‘best’ clothes and into her jogging pants and tee-shirt. Then she needed to distract the Guardian that had been placed on Beth duty since Gareth had been relieved. He was a burly, middle-aged, fully grown werewolf who was almost always in wolf-form, ready and able to take her down in an instant. He was going to be a hard tail to shake. But once she got rid of him she was home-free. Nobody could track her. Well, nobody until recently, at least.
It was still early morning; lunch was a few hours away, at least. She had time to visit her creek for a while before she’d be looked for. Not paying attention to any of her surroundings, she barreled into a rock hard body and finished in a heap on the ground, barely feeling the sudden impact. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she gasped, raising her head to apologize again, and meeting the dark glare of the one person she hadn’t noticed during her procession to the Alpha’s house. “Gareth,” she stated, stupidly.
“Beth,” he acknowledged brusquely. “I thought you were under house arrest.”
“I was…am…I had to…” she cleared her throat. Damn thing seemed to have closed up on her. “I had an engagement with the Alpha.”
His face closed, hardened. “I see.”
“Yes, well,” she said, dusting herself off. Nice of him to give me a hand up, she remarked sarcastically to herself. “It’s time I was going. I have to get back to the house.”
“Of course. Give your Den Parents my regards.” His eyes lingered on her for a shade too long, and then he was gone, barely noticing her blush. Not worth the effort of blushing for, she told herself sternly. He was just another pack wolf. One of many. She would soon forget how he made her feel the fool.
The Den House was strangely empty when she returned. No delicious smells wafting from the stove, no Den Father reading in his chair, no stern-faced Bea trotting around the house tidying and putting away. The only other body in the house was the one who’d trailed in after her. Her new Guardian. He curled up by the lingering heat emitted from the stove, and began to snore.
She wasn’t fooled in the slightest. If she made a move to so much as throw scraps out, he’d be hot on her heels. Necessity was the mother of invention, or so they said, and it looked like she needed to be pretty inventive this time.
Her first port of call was her wardrobe. Apart from being uncomfortable, her ‘best’ clothes were now all dusty, courtesy of a dump on the ground via Gareth. She sighed. Her tummy done that pull trick again when she thought of him, so remote and untouchable, standing above her, not even bothering to offer her a hand up. She reminded herself what an ass he was, and the butterflies subsided a little.
Pink, or purple, she wondered, as if her choice of jogging pants mattered at all. Her life was spiraling out of her control and there was nothing she could do about it. She knew there was a good chance she’d be given over to the Tall Grass pack. And she hadn’t even met the wolf who was willing to lay a feud to rest for her.
What if he was old? Cruel? Or perhaps she was a gift for his son? Which was worse? She didn’t know anymore. It wasn’t fair that nobody got to choose to whom and when they would be mated. The laws stated that the choice of a mate had to bring something to the pack. That usually meant cubs. And since she was a purebred female, there would be no problem getting her with cubs. Only the half-breeds and the survivors had a hard time with carrying and birthing cubs. Something to do with the symmetry between human and wolf being off, whereas with a purebred female, her body took over and just…did it.
She wracked her brain, trying her damnedest to come up with something – anything- – else that she could offer this pack over the other. As much as the pack gossiped about her and drove her to the point of insanity and back, it was home. She knew no other place she could call home – certainly not another pack.
She wondered if anyone from her own pack would offer a more tempting payment for her mating rites. She hoped so. As abhorrent as she found the thought of mating with any of the lust-filled boys she’d met today, any one of them were preferable to a stranger from a strange pack.
Freshly changed – she chose the pink, it emphasized her waist length, dirty blond hair – she glanced out the window. Her bedroom faced onto the rear of the Den House, which led directly to the path they traveled when going to any rituals. There didn’t seem to be anybody around right now, but that could change in the blink of an eye.
Time to brew some tea, she decided, digging out the small velvet bag from under her mattress. With any luck her Guardian would be enjoying a prolonged doggy-nap when she slipped out.
“Will you join me for a pot of tea?” she asked her Guardian, all relaxed innocence. “I find it helps wake me up if I haven’t slept very well the night before,” she carried on conversationally, shooing him out of the way to put the battered kettle to heat on the stove. “Fire’s dying down,” she went on, throwing a log onto the angry red embers.
“I like tea,” came the reply she had prayed for, but had not expected. He had obviously shimmered, and now stood watching her every move, leaning against the worktop. He’s every inch the menacing wolf, she thought.
“Good, so do I,” she replied. It was going to plan so far. Just another few minutes of fortune smiling on her were all she needed. When the water boiled, she took two tea-bags from her pocket. Shaking them both out to release the herbs, she examined them quickly. The one with the tiny tear was his.
“Mmm,” he murmured, wrapping his large hands around the delicate tea-cup. “Good tea.”
“Yes, it’s rather tasty, isn’t it?”
Just a few minutes of small talk and her Guardian would be out like a light. Fingers crossed, she hoped.
“I don’t agree with it, you know,” he told her conversationally, his eyes meeting hers over the rim of the tiny cup. His expression was earnest and open.
“With what, exactly?”
“The mating ceremony,” he answered with a yawn. “It’s not right what they’re doing to you both.”
“Both?” But he’d already drained his glass and as his head drooped to rest on his arm, he fell into a deep slumber. “Valerian root,” she whispered. “Sorry.”
Scraping the chair back and rushing for the back door before guilt could set in too deeply, she raced out onto the blessedly still deserted pathway. Uncaring of who saw her now in any case – no one could catch her – she ran flat out, reaching the tree line and giving her legs the stretch they’d been longing for. Before long her lungs began to burn and she realized she was already half-way to the creek. She’d been running
too fast, heedless of her surroundings.
Slow down, Beth. Don’t want to have to call anyone for help today, she chided herself. Anyway, she was free now. For a while at least. And if she was going to be presented to the pack in two nights’ time as a potential mate, she needed time to gather herself. She needed to square things away in her own mind first. Especially if she was to leave the pack for Tall Grass territory. She’d never see her creek again.
The thought hurt, but she ignored it, still holding to hope that somehow, some way, something would prevent her mating to the foreign wolf. It was a small hope, but it shone brightly nevertheless. What she really needed was a way out of the mating altogether, but if there were one, she would have exploited it by now. No, she was resigned to the fact that she was about to be mated to someone.
By the time she got to the creek, she was breathing hard, having pushed herself to the brink of her stamina getting there. The thought of a soak in the cold water bolstered her spirit. Stripping off her clothes she ran for the water’s edge, impatient.
Gasping, the water only up to her thighs, she sank to her knees and felt the silt shift under her weight. That’s what my life has become. The silt at the bottom of a creek, shifting and accommodating everyone and everything. But what happens when I run dry? What happens when I’ve given all the cubs I can to whomever I’m mated to, and realize I’ve had no life and no happiness of my own?
Tears washing down her cheeks she dove forward, swimming out to the deepest recesses of the bowl of creek water. Diving deep, she brushed her hand across the debris on the bottom, turned around and kicked for the surface. Her body reveled in the cool water, and her spirit reveled in the freedom it sensed in this place.
A half hour or more, she splashed and swam, dove and dipped in the frigid water, before the temperature drove her to find the sun upon the rocks. The water tickled as it trickled down her stomach, pooling at her feet, to slip and slide back into the creek from whence it came. Life’s like that, she thought.
Bound by Fate (Moon Bound Series Book 1) Page 5
