Tara and Clare recommend that we meet together for lunch since the ball didn't provide us much of an opportunity to converse.
at an eatery for people.
I endured salads and the main course, and right now, while I sip my drink, I'm trying not to ask my own sisters whether their husbands are aware of where they are.
"And that's what they were discussing at the Ella," said the speaker. Clare snaps, gesturing with her palm toward my face.
“Sorry. It's too many mimosas. That is false. I've had two of those, and I'm not even drunk. I make an effort to pay attention to what she says. She said something about remodeling her master bathroom.
You said before that they couldn't knock down a wall.
"Are you alright?" Tara questions me sincerely.
Do I tell them that after the ball, my head is all over the place? Because I'm unsure of my place in the pack? Because if my closest friends don't trust me after that, my sisters may not either. Their spouses also don't appear to be great supporters of the new monarch.
And it's difficult to feel as though my sisters' friends aren't sitting at the table with us invisibly.
"I'm good. I just…" As I shrug, I chuckle. "The whole remodeling thing is beyond me. or household items. Not because I don't care. I just cannot connect.
Clare reminds me, "Yet." Have you hired a planner for the event? Lupercalia is almost approaching.
“Um.” I scan in between them. "I'm not sure,"
Clare dismisses me. “Sorry. I'm going in front. Every hour between then and today is presumably filled with preparations on Mother's part.
“Exactly.” I'm glad I have a reason to steer clear of any possible Ashton discussion.
I'd rather not be with him. I'm not as thrilled about finding a partner as everyone else is.
Tara adds, gulping down some water, "Besides, she has the entire year." "Lupercalia is on the full moon this year, and they can't perform the mating ritual until after her first transformation."
"At this time, secure the party. Clare continues, "The sooner the better. When everything is resolved, "Mother and Father will be so relieved."
I approached her head-on after trying to divert her but it didn't work. What kind of relief?
She averts her gaze as if I were a baby. "Ella, you're not a fool. You are aware of this since you conducted the prank by using that excuse.
I correct her, "A right, not a loophole," and I interrupt.
She ignores what is being said. "—we're all hoping Ashton can be a calming force for you," she said.
I start off, squeezing my hands under the table, "A stabilizing—"
Do you intend to attend the full moon ceremony? Like it's even possible to shift the topic at this point, Tara asks.
"Yeah, um." Tara could be asking because she wants to be prepared since my own sisters don't want to be seen with me in places where werewolves frequent.
"I want to go before I have my first metamorphosis. If I don't cause the family too much shame.
Before Clare responds, "We're not embarrassed to be seen with you, if that's what you think," Tara and Clare exchange a glance.
“Really?” There are no werewolves to be seen as I scan the eatery. So why aren't we at Minelli's right now? The Chophouse, perhaps?
With a snort, Tara explains, "Because every time we go to the Chophouse, Clare orders something she doesn't like and then she whines about it throughout the entire meal."
Although it is true, it is not the cause.
At least Clare is brave enough to be open and honest with me.
Ella, you placed our whole family in a very uncomfortable situation at the ball. Since Frost's claim to the throne is strong and well-respected within the pack, Ashton's father could interpret your actions in that way.
“How?” I laugh. "I just returned,"
"You just got back from London," Tara counters.
This is really absurd. Would you quit behaving like I'm a member of a global surveillance ring, please? It was only one dance! And you said that he had a crush on Amber.
Your only dance was.
As if I need to be reminded, Clare says, "With the king.
"Until I went to the fucking ball, I didn't even know who he was!" I snap. What exactly are you concerned about?
Or do you just repeat what your husbands command you to say?
That's unfair, I say. Tara creates her own expression of pain.
It could be effective on Mother, but not on me. "What was expected of me? No, tell him. Tell the leader of our pack, "I don't want to dance.
My sisters don't say anything.
There was Ashton. He had the option of speaking. He could have intervened," I say.
He is more vulnerable than you are. Clare scowls, as though baffled that I wouldn't get it right away.
Which is absurd since I know exactly what she means when she says that I should put everything on the line for my putative soul mate rather than the other way around.
I suddenly become aware that they are both total strangers to me as they both just look at me in silence. They are not the same individuals they were before I left, before they began dating and living the mature werewolf lives we must all lead for the sake of the pack.
Everything I feared has come true. I am aware that after Ashton and I are married, I will be expected to support and concur with everything he may decide to do or say.
And these expectations won't just be for him; everyone around me, even my sisters who have previously objected to that kind of conduct, will think I'm not doing my job as a pack member if I don't follow the rules and be the perfect partner.
I reply, channeling the best of our mother's passive-aggressive, "It's been great getting together," But I must go.
I lean back in my chair and get up as a crackle of electricity draws my attention to the restaurant's entrance.
Before I see him, I sense him. It makes me nervous. However, I turn my attention to the door because I know Owen Frost will be there. And it's obvious that he senses my presence as well as our eye contact as he enters.
Five years ago, I used to question my sisters about whether or not I was indeed experiencing that attraction. However, I am unable to d
o so at this time. I can't rely on them to keep my secrets from their friends.
Mother is waiting for me the moment I step through the door. “Ashton is here,” she hisses, reaching to fuss with my hair. I dodge her and she clucks in frustration. “What were you thinking, running around the lawn like a stray dog?”“I was thinking how nice it is to be home.” I blink innocently at her.Her eyes narrow. “Is this all a game to you?” Before I can answer, she goes on. “After the stunt you pulled, leaving the pack and now whatever that display was at the ball, it’s a miracle that anyone will still associate with us.”“Why wouldn’t they—”“Because they’re afraid that what you did will spread!” Mother snaps, loud enough to be overheard, so she immediately lowers her voice again. “You were the first werewolf in a hundred years to reject the transformation and invoke the Right of Accord. Everyone was terrified that you’d opened the floodgates. People wouldn’t speak to us because they were afraid of losing their young, too!”It never occurred to me that by invoking the Right,
The full moon is a holy time for werewolves. Much in the way humans might dress nicely and congregate at a house of worship, a werewolf pack gathers for their own ceremonies together. For the Toronto pack, the place we gather is about an hour and a half northwest of Toronto. Long before Canada was New France, back in the days when our ancestors fled northern Europe in longboats, a pack inhabited a small village in the area, on what is now two-hundred acres of unspoiled land we can safely roam as the creatures we become every full moon.The transformation ceremony takes place in the ancient circle of standing stones built over five centuries before Columbus could erroneously claim the first European steps onto the North American continent. The three stones bear tributes to the gods of our pack: Fenrir, the wolf who will devour Odin at Ragnarök, Lycaon, the cruel king punished by Zeus, and Lupa, she-wolf mother of Romulus and Remus. Once, the circle stood in a forest clearing. Now, i
The deep, hollow toll of a bell announces the midnight hour. In the round courtyard below, pack members file into the sacred circle. They wear ceremonial robes of silver silk, easy to remove once the transformation takes hold.Humans imagine scenes in movies where werewolves scream in agony and tear out of their clothes, which I’ve never understood. We know when the full moon is. It doesn’t take us by surprise. And we know how to dress for it.Or undress. My breath freezes in my lungs as Owen walks into the circle. He stops in front of the monolith to Lycaon and drops his robe.I shamelessly look him over, the way he did to me, from his broad shoulders, down his chest dusted with dark hair that thins to a line on his shockingly sculpted abs. I wasn’t expecting him to look as good as he does. I wasn’t expecting that my mouth would water at the sight of his cock, that my thighs would clench together at the thought of how huge it must be hard. I hope he feels me, smells me.And I hope
This can’t be transpiring.I sit up and yank the note from Mother’s hand. “You went through my purse?”“What do you think you’re doing?” she hisses, disregarding my query. “You are in a mating pact. You can’t see another man behind your fiancé’s back!”“I’m not seeing anyone. I’m sure you read it. It’s an invitation to make up for—”“It is an invitation to gossip. To scandal and ruin.” She grabs the card back and rips it in half, then in half again before dropping the pieces onto the carpet. “How long has this been going on?”“How long has this been going on?” I almost argue that I’ve only been home for a few days, but then I remember that as far as everyone else in the pack is concerned, I could be a spy for Greater London. Maybe she thinks I was banging the king like a drum there, long before he seized the throne here.Maybe she thinks I have something to do with him taking over the pack.“You know exactly what I’m asking,” Mother insists. “How long have you and the king been seeing
The night of the ball, every light in Aconitum Hall was lit. Tonight, it’s mostly dark. It’s not as inviting; the towers loom sinister and medieval over the city, blotting out the sky rather than polluting it with added light.I take a deep whiff as I step out of my car. Mother and Father refused to let me take the driver and I’m not sure where one parks at a royal palace. My shoes crunch on the gravel of the small parking area beyond the front porte cochere. I head in that direction, my heart beating in an unfamiliar and worrying pattern. The door opens at the top of the steps, and I expect to see a thrall butler there. But it’s Owen.Owen just opened his front door. Like he’s a person and not a king. I freeze in place. He does, too. It’s a strange moment; before, the undeniable attraction between us was insulated by the presence of others and the appropriateness demanded by our society. It felt like if only we were alone, nothing would hold him back. Now, it appears we are alone,
He follows that bombshell with, “I hope you like venison.”I stumble into the dining room, where a large table is set for two at one end.“It’s very fresh,” he goes on. “I hunted it myself during the full moon.”I can’t get past his earlier announcement. “You did it?”“Well, you know. The only things to do during the full moon are fuck, fight, or hunt.” He pulls a chair out for me and I sit obediently, out of habit.“I’m not talking about the deer!” I lean toward him as he sits and for some reason, I lower my voice like we’re in danger of being overheard. “You conjured the Right of Accord? Your pack has a Right of Accord?”He nods and lifts his hand to signal the staff for the first course. As the thralls place bowls of pale cream soup in front of us, Owen elaborates. “All packs operate under the same law, given to us by Lycaon the Younger. Didn’t they teach that in school?”I shake my head. “I assumed pack law was just the law of our pack.”“Hmiders for a moment. “Don toon teach chil
The Dixon family motto could easily be, “If it’s uncomfortable, ignore it.”My dinner with OIfn last week is currently causing my family maximum discomfort, and their unwcausingess to speak to me about it is such a blessing, I practically beam on the ride to brunch and my fitting for my ceremonial dress.Still, my heart and head are divided. While I desperately want to believe Owen can get me out of this mating pact, it’s not as simple as “I’m king, I can do what I want.” He’ll face the wrath of a packaging nightmare. There’s no way Ashton and his family tape nightmaNightmareonelwalkinger them so blatantly.And I don’t know Owen at all. There’s no guarantee he means what he says. Maybe he’s that magnetic and disarming with every woman he meets. There could be any number of potential mates in the pack that he’s considering; there’s no reason for me to believe otherwise, especially when rumors are swirling that he’s in love with the former queen.Still, if he’s serious, dissolution of
I’m in my room when Tara arrives, and she chirps into the intercom that she’s coming up. Even as kids, we never had to share our space, but we’re all in that my that's that girl's hate Even though Tara and Clare have moved out, their bedrooms are still there, though they’ve been redecorated a bit removed fairy lights and school trophies.My door creaks open and I sit up on my bed, tossing aside my book. “Hey.”“Hey,” she says, and sighs deeply, sliding her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and rocking on her heels.“That bad, huh?” I try to laugh as I swing my legs over the side of the bed, but the mood in the room is somewhere between “right before you find out grandma died” and “the sex talk with your parents.”Not that I’ve experienced either; our grandparents are all still alive and probably have a good hundred years left, and Mother has probably never even said the word “sex” out loud.“You can sit down,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Stop acting like you’re here to break bad n