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Chapter 1 — Mating Night
Clara
My heart pounded within my chest as I took a deep breath, lifting my skirt to join the crowd.
All around me were the members of the Moonstone pack preening, picking fights, growling, and scratching themselves to distract them from their nerves. Every single one of them were dressed in their most flashy, elegant apparel. Women wore gorgeous gowns that showed off their legs and their naked backs; men wore tight tunics that accentuated their muscles. Some even bared their entire upper torso. Nothing was left to the imagination. All of our physical prowess and beauty was not something to blush over; it was to be flaunted now.
Tonight, on the eve of Diantha’s glory, the full moon, even I, the cursed daughter of traitors would be granted supposed mercy from the Alpha for the first time in eighteen years to enter the pack house and attend the ball.
The mating ball.
Once a year this ball holds in a different pack’s territory. It’s the event that most of the unmated werewolves on the South Continent would join and hopefully find their mates. All of them are bristling with excitement, except me.
I don’t want a mate. My thoughts came fast and heavy like padded footfalls on the forest floor.
We don’t need a mate.
These last thoughts were from hers. I could see a hulking wolf pacing within the periphery of my vision. Her body seemed half physical and half smoke. She was snarling, her bright fangs glinting in the pale blue fire of the hall. Only I could see her.
Elena. My spirit wolf.
“There you are.” A cold voice came from a doorway that existed only to the Elites. All of us lesser werewolves were waiting in this tightly-packed darkened corridor that led into the main ballroom. I could see several other pack members gawk at who had arrived.
It was Sisley Dover.
Her bloodred hair was tied up immaculately with several jeweled birds pinning her curls. Her slinky shimmering dress was of the new fashion, and I could see every soft curve of her body. A huge pearl necklace circled her creamy throat and dripped down to draw attention to her breasts.
She had a fan in her fingers, and she lifted my chin with its papery end. She eyed me. “Look at you! Seems like if you actually try, you can be pretty.” A sneer was on her pink lips; her cosmetics slaves must have been prepping her for the whole day.
“Feeling a little threatened, are we?” I grinned. “It must be difficult to not have all the males’ drooling over you all the time.”
Sisley raised her brow and glanced at me up and down.
I wore a pale blue ballgown that clung to my own body like petals folding around a flower. My own dark brown hair was pinned above my head in traditional braids that the women wore for the mating ball.
“Threatened? By you?” She could barely hold in her laughter. Her fan slapped against my cheek hard. I stared at her calmly and gave her no satisfaction at me whimpering in pain. Her dulcet tones were sweet, but her words were like toxic sludge spewing from her lips.
“I only wanted to compliment you, for goddess’s sake. Don’t be so dense. But I’m curious, this dress almost looks too good on you. Mm, it really doesn’t suit you. Where did you get it? I hope for your sake you didn’t steal it from an Elite. That’s the only way you could afford this. Trash like you have to pay by throwing away all of your dignity.”
I wondered at how destructive it would be to tear Sisley’s throat open. It would be worth it just to see the look of shock on her perfect face.
Do it! Kill her! You damned ass. Elena growled in my head. Elena always did this. She laughed and cursed at my weakness and wished me to kill all the Elites in this Pack.
But I wouldn’t follow her.
There’s no need for any troubles tonight. I didn’t want any attentions tonight. Like always, I would be invisible.
I was much realistic than Elena. Killing an Elite would be committing the equivalent of suicide. I didn’t want it. I had another goal.
I would escape.
We would escape. This plan had been brewing in our mind for a long time.
I took a deep breath and smiled back at Sisley, ignoring Elena’s words. “Hazel gave the dress to me,” I said, impassive as a stone.
Elena wasn’t happy about my attitude. She cursed at me. Coward!! You didn’t even dare to shoot back.
She was right. I was a coward. But what else could I do? To kill an elite and release us from this abusive nightmare?
Nonsense.
Elena might a powerful wolf. We might have a taste of the sweetness of victory. But the moment of glory would never last. We would be taken down in seconds. My head would be severed from my body, and my body thrown out for the carrion crows to pick at.
Just like my parents.
Sisley narrowed her eyes. “Oh yes. Your goddess of a healer friend.” She eyed me.
“Of course. That’s why that dress doesn’t suit you one bit. See, a pretty werewolf like Hazel… Well, let’s just say that it’s no competition who actually looks better in that dress. While you do look somewhat improved, you’re practically like a potato in a sack compared to her.”
I shrugged.
I knew any reaction from me would give her power. She enjoyed abusing me, verbally or physically.
Sisley’s father Bernard Dover, that filthy Gamma, “adopted” me after my parents’ death. I suppose that within the strict societal rules, I still was the daughter of the Greys – a family that once was highly esteemed within the pack. Bernard took me in as his ward. He had always eyed the position my late father once held.
The pack thought he did it out of kindness and mercy. No. It was a plot. A pathetic political plot to become the second-in-command, the Beta of Moonstone Pack.
When the leader announced to the shock of all that he would abolish the rank of Beta in the pack, Bernard flew into a fury. I still remember the look on his face, and the red tinge in his eyes. It was as if I had singlehandedly been the one to dash all his dreams of power.
I was just a child. He tore into my flesh with his teeth and punched me repeatedly until my bones cracked. I still have the scars on my back, where the bones did not mend well.
“You… damned… Grey! You mongrel!” he had screamed at me. “All my work! All of it! All of my flattery of the Alpha, my loyalty, and for what? Just for the Alpha to spit on my face! You wretched, wretched girl! You’ll pay!” he screamed at me.
Bernard’s wife Cordelia and Sisley had watched with amusement as I wailed in pain and terror. Not a single word left their lips.
I would have died, if it wasn’t for Hazel. She had seen me after my “step-father” had finally cast me out of the basement, taken pity on me, fed me, and nursed my wounds. I was always grateful to have Hazel on my side. She’s the only one who cared about me in this pack.
“Sisley.”
A quiet voice stopped her from prattling on. My heart sunk down to my heeled feet. I wanted to run away. All the young werewolves bowed next to me and stamped their chests in a salute.
We do not address the Alpha’s son with our words. Only through actions.
Sisley smiled and leaned heavily in the arms of the young prince of our pack, Griffin. He was tall and fair, with bright green eyes. His arms wrapped slowly around Sisley, and the most infuriating pleased look flashed across her face.
But he had no eyes for Sisley even as he embraced her. Only for me. Old memories floated in my mind like haze on a hot summer’s day.
The young prince had once been mine. We grew up together. We shared our first kiss. We made a vow to each other that we would love till death do us apart.
They were all lies. Sweet poisoning lies.
Sisley lazily traced her finger on the Prince of the Moonstone Pack’s arms. She smiled at me, though his face was tight and unexpressive. “What do you think, Griffin? Does my ‘step-sister’ look lovely to you?”
Chapter 2 — Tormentors
Clara
I wanted Sisley to choke on her words. Yes, I was technically her family. It must have galled her, for her power-hungry father to take me into her family. And for all of his political conniving to come to nothing.
I lifted my head high to stare at him, the young prince I used to loved with all my heart.
Could he meet my gaze? Or would he turn away, too ashamed of our shared past?
His freckles faded a little over time, but the bright sweetness of his emerald eyes had never dimmed.
I won’t lie; he looked beautiful tonight. He wore the traditional colors of the Moonstone Pack: dark green and subtle mahogany, the same color of pines in the forest. His shirt was opened slightly at the top, and I could see a hint of his lean, but muscular chest. His leather pants and topcoat were well-fitted, which was truly a minor miracle considering how tall he was. He was taller even than his Alpha father, and that was no small feat.
I gazed at him, and there was a hunger in my belly that went beyond innocent kinship with a childhood memory. I could feel a tight pressure and ache in my chest. I blamed the tight blue dress I wore.
“Yes. She’s lovely,” Griffin said.
His voice was emotionless and controlled. His father made sure that Griffin would always behave himself around me. Despite all that, I could sense his sincerity behind his words. “It will be easy to find a suitable mate that may raise your standing in the pack, Clara.”
His words were addressed to me. The fact that he spoke directly to me would inspire salacious gossip for weeks. I could not help tilting my head. Was this a confession of still caring for my well-being? A consolation that I might be able to escape this hell?
Murderous rage flashed over Sisley’s features for only a second, but I saw it.
I wanted to laugh at her, but the hopelessness of this situation quelled any joy I might have had at still holding a place in the heart of her mate.
Naïve fool! I wanted to shout at Griffin.
Why didn’t you wait for me, then? Why didn’t you grow some backbone and defy your father? Why did you whisper all those sweet words when we were children?
But I remained silent.
Silly, silly. Elena hissed coldly back in my head. You don’t even have the guts to tell him your grievance. You still fancy yourself in love with him, don’t you? Idiot. Her head suddenly swiveled, as if she heard something in the distance. Now, watch your back.
I was too slow to react, and a rough hand grabbed my shoulder and twisted me down into a low bow. I winced at the pain, but remained silent. I could recognize the rich perfumes of musk and amber of my oppressor and step-father, Bernard Dover.
I have long associated that scent with pain; bile rose to my throat instinctively. Through a haze, I remember seeing his furious red eyes and feeling his knuckles shattering my cheekbones. I shuddered.
“How dare you even look at the Alpha Prince, you worm,” he snarled. “Bow! You should be sniveling on the ground like the insect that you are. Have you forgotten your place already? Or has your allowed attendance to the ball gotten to your head? I didn’t think it was possible for you to be even more stupid than usual.”
“Nice to see you, step-father,” I said with gritted teeth to my tormentor. I had to suppress the child in me that still shrank in fear at this monster. “You see, I have selective amnesia and can never remember the only son of our Alpha and the Prince of our entire pack.” I retorted back for the pain.
Elena laughed in the corner of my eyes.
But claws ripped into my shoulder blades, and I gasped in agony. The bitter scent of my own blood reached my nostrils, and I could feel it trickling down my back.
That brute! Elena screamed, wanting to jump out and take in control.
I forced her back.
“Keep that flapping thing you call your mouth shut,” he hissed. “Or I’ll tear out your wretched tongue myself. It should have been done a long time ago to spare us all your idiotic prattling.”
“Stop it. Lord Dover,” said Griffin.
Bernard then himself stamped his chest and saluted before Griffin, and I could see something light up the young prince’s eyes.
Anger, if I hadn’t been deluded.
“Your dedication to my standing is admirable, Lord Dover,” said Griffin, and he waved his hand nonchalantly. “But I would command you to let go of the girl. On this night, every werewolf should be unblemished and unharmed to show their qualities to their potential mates.”
They stared each other down, and Lord Dover bowed his head. His claws retracted from my shoulder, and I tried not to quiver as my right shoulder burned.
“Perhaps the effort of my dedication would be better spent on other matters,” breathed Lord Dover. “Your father and I are only concerned that you are much too soft on the daughter of the traitor who nearly killed the Alpha. Or does such a fact not bother you? Surely you wouldn’t even think to entertain such a disturbing thought?”
Griffin’s face darkened.
I knew how his comments must grate on Griffin. Lord Dover may as well have blatantly accused Griffin of treachery simply by treating me with decency and respect.
Obedience to the Alpha and the pack, or continue a childhood dream with me? Griffin had to make a choice.
Our pack valued ruthlessness, pride, and blind loyalty to the Alpha. Without those traits, the Moonstone Pack would have been nothing but a memory of violence and starvation, and we would have faded away into the dusty tomes of history.
Other werewolves in the hallway watched us with bated breath. None dared to speak in the presence of Griffin, but I could see smiles and open-mouthed stares. We were considered lesser werewolves starving for any drama – a scene like this was the highlight of their grim, lonely lives. It must make them feel good to see someone other than themselves to be picked on and brought low.
I know how they felt and the thought running through their heads: at least it isn’t me.
A cold smile crossed Griffin’s face. Then, he stooped down to kiss the top of Sisley’s hair. She basked in the affection and ruffled his flaxen hair.
His answer was clear.
“Hells below, father, could you be any more serious on such a night like this?” she said with frivolous lightness, but I could tell she was trying to change the subject. “We shouldn’t stay too long here with the unwashed masses.” She eyed all of the werewolves around us, and they glanced away from her. That was the way of the pack. The lower members of the caste knew their place. Sisley drawled on, “It wouldn’t be too becoming for Elites like us.” She turned to the Alpha Prince. “Come now, darling. We should greet your father.”
She intertwined her fingers in Griffin’s hands and deigned to look at me. Her voice was deceptively gentle, but her words were a dagger in my side.
“You should watch us, dear step-sister. Together we will open the ball with our dance. Perhaps it will give you a hint what a pairing blessed by Diantha looks like. Will you ever know what it feels like to have a mate intertwined in your arms? I suppose even traitors like you should be given that mercy.”
Griffin watched me, and I thought that his eyes had lingered long on my bare torn shoulder that still leached blood.
My eyes watered. But I quickly bowed to them and dropped my head down.
“Diantha extends her mercy on whom she wills, but I have no need of her generosity. I will make my own fate.”
Sisley’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Lord Dover beckoned towards the glowing blue hearth hall with his gloved hand. “Enough of this farce. Let us go. The Alpha awaits.”
Chapter 3 — Pack Ritual
Clara
When I entered through the doors, I could see Prince Griffin, Sisley, and Lord Dover cross the gigantic room our pack called the ballroom. It was meticulously cleaned. Elites were already allowed to ascend to the second floor. The trio ascended up the curving stairs made of black iron. I watched them enter the large balcony that jutted out like a perch – one could see everything that occurred on the floors from that position.
One lone werewolf stood behind the balcony’s black railing, watching everything. He was a tall older man with features I’ve associated more with a crow than a wolf. Everything about him was sharp: his eyes, his lips, his chin, and well-trimmed beard. He was the only one allowed to not conceal his claws. They were black and elongated. His arms were held behind his back in a pose of graceful savagery.
Our Alpha. The brutal murderer of my parents. They said that he was the one who struck the killing blow himself. A leader must always finish what he started. That was the way of the pack.
I saw Lord Dover salute and bow to the Alpha. Even from here, I could smell the oiliness of his flattering tones.
“Hail, esteemed Lord of the Pack. May Diantha give you keen ears and a full belly!” The standard greeting of blessing.
The Alpha’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if annoyed by this interruption. He nodded at Lord Dover, but did not speak. He was a werewolf of few words. I could see his lips move to greet his son and daughter-in-law, but the werewolves around me were all speaking at once, jostling each other, and snarling at one another. They could barely contain their excitement.
I craned my neck to hear the Alpha and Griffin better, but a shrill nauseating voice broke out on the first floor.
“Welcome, one and all to the mating ball! How lovely to see you all deep in the throes of lust and love! Oh, it reminds me of my own days when the males all chased us like we were rabbits scurrying from our burrows! How droll! How exciting!”
A woman dressed in electric pink frills, laces, and silk smiled at us with hungry eyes and lips. Her canines were drawn out. Any civilized werewolf, from the prestigious Alpha to the most despised Omega, would never have their canines out for such an event. But civilized behavior never suited Isabelle, the showy Matchmaker of the Moonstone Pack.
Her eyes were tinged with the tell-tale scarlet hue – she was deep in bloodlust.
I averted my eyes.
For the lucky and the blessed, this mating ball would be the culmination of all one’s desires and dreams. For the unlucky like me, I would be paired with some mediocre lout, or worse, be the victim of our pack-sanctioned rape.
I was considered worse than an Omega, the lowest caste class, and I wouldn’t wish their fates on my worst enemy.
I could smell the heat and the lust of both males and females around me. They had sprayed sickly-sweet aphrodisiac drugs in the air to get all of us in a frenzy. Damp sweat and barely contained hormones hung thick in the air. The overly sweet scent of drugs mixed with the rankest of smells, and I wanted to retch. I realized I could smell fresh blood as well. Even though the wound in my shoulder was beginning to dry and cake, my nails had dug too deeply into my own palms and dripped with blood.
Somewhere behind me a male young werewolf bayed with frustration, and it seemed like several others would join him. I felt sweat drip down my back. Did he smell my blood? He seemed like one of those brutes who would abuse a female, then forget about her within the passing of a moon.
“Now, now!” laughed Isabelle, clearly enjoying the show. “No howling BEFORE the act.”
Coarse laughter greeted this distasteful woman, and I could feel her red eyes settle on me for half a second. It was enough for her to see my distress.
“My lovely dears, as is in tradition of the gods and our great Lunar kin, you must show obeisance to our great leaders. They must see that you are fit for mating. Then after that – well, let us say that I will be eagerly awaiting the registration of so many wonderful couples.”
Isabelle watched me for only a moment, and she smiled again. “Let this blessed event in the name of our Moon Diantha, begin!”
The werewolves all howled, and the heavy beat of drums thrummed through the darkened hall. We were children of Diantha – our first lover was the Moon that enchanted us and gave us great unnatural strength and clever minds.
We had no need for lights, though some pale blue fires housed in onyx chandeliers were scattered through the ceilings of the hall. Our finetuned ability to smell was enough to be able to pick out where one wolf began and another ended.
We shuffled down a line that I could only explain as lambs queueing up for the slaughterhouse.
Werewolves looked up hopefully at the balcony. Perhaps they would catch the eye of our leader and impress him with their physical prowess. The mating ball wasn’t just for the act of procreation; for some dreamy fools in the lower caste classes, it was their only chance to be able to show the Alpha that they didn’t belong in the lower ranks.
A ridiculous delusion.
I lifted my gaze and saw them on the balcony. Prince Griffin with his arms around Sisley’s waist. Sisley looking down in utter condescension. The third was the Alpha, front and center.
I saw his cold yellow eyes meet mine for just an instant.
The bravado in me forced me to look back at him.
My muddy brown eyes clashed with his bright yellow eyes. I could feel it all: his condescension and amusement. He didn’t fear me. I had been broken long enough to satisfy him, but it never was enough. His smile was tight and small, but ruthlessly triumphant.
My stomach churned, and even though I felt myself on the verge of tearing up, I willed my body to not show a single emotion.
Barnes Andelle. The perfect Alpha. The one who always seeks out power and thus strengthens the pack with his own indomitable greed and will. He was insidious and intelligent. They told me every day that my parents had dared to kill Barnes in some half-baked plot for power.
I never believed it for a second, but that’s not how this absurd pack works. The Alpha didn’t become that way by playing the game fairly.
The werewolves behind me pushed me forward impatiently, eager to get on with it.
“Now, let’s welcome our Prince and Sisley for the opening dance!” The Matchmaker squealed.
I bit my lip, unable to avert my eyes from the dancing pool.
“Observe our beloved future Alpha and Luna! Let your love shine as brightly as theirs!” Isabelle chanted.
Part of me wanted to turn away, but another part greedily sought out the two intertwined figures dancing on the balcony. I could see Sisley’s perfect form stretching and twisting in perfection. She was always a good dancer – the best in our pack. I hated her guts, but it wouldn’t change the honest truth. She was beautiful. I saw Griffin’s hands curl around her thin waist and naked back. He too was the epitome of grace and perfection.
I wanted to imagine myself in Sisley’s place, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t see myself in any way in front of a slavering pack of werewolves, put on display like a peacock, and forced to prance around in a ritualistic dance.
I would never have the chance anyway.
I suddenly felt the burning pain my palms and my shoulder. The sensation of the wolf running within me tangled within my soul. She crouched low, and her snarls rumbled within me.
No longer. We would run free.
In a few hours, the guards posted on the perimeter of the Bragne, the dwelling place of the Moonstone Pack, would be lax during the festivities. We could make our way out of the Moonstone Pack without any attentions.
Freedom.
The cool green hills that lightened in hue to stark white. Warm summer breezes transforming into bitter winds that froze your heart. That harsh wasteland of snow and ice that all werewolves simply called the Wilds.
I promised myself that I would never allow myself to be abused anymore.
The Wilds was a place where other exiles and recluses decided they would make their stand, rejecting their packs that had rejected them first. When you went to the Wilds, you went there to die.
But at least I would find a fleeting moment of freedom. It would be worth it to see Diantha hanging low in the darkened blue gray sky with no werewolf to shame or mock me. To feel the snow dancing on my fur. To be able at last to shift to my true werewolf form and to feel the power of the moon coursing through my veins.
I lost myself in this reverie for only a moment, before someone touched my shoulder.
I whirled around and snarled without thinking, “Don’t even think about coupling with me, you slime.”
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