Chapter 2

“Asher Frost?” Tarryn gasped, dropping the book she was holding. She rushed over, grabbing Lydia by the shoulders to stop her restless pacing. “Are you serious? Lydia, no!”

“Yes!” Lydia cried, her voice thick with anger and frustration. “My dad signed off on it today. The Elders want an Alpha female, so I’m the designated pawn. And the worst part is, Dad knows Asher already has Cindy Torelli hanging around him!”

Tarryn’s face twisted in instant disgust at the name. “Cindy? Oh, Lydia, you have got to be kidding me. Word from the northern border is that woman is absolute poison. She acts like she practically runs the Frostwell pack already, throwing her weight around just because Asher lets her stick close. She’s manipulative, fake, and everyone knows she’s a total bitch.”

“Great,” Lydia groaned, sinking into a armchair and hiding her face in her hands. “So not only am I giving up on ever finding my fated mate, but I’m being handed over to a man who’s already wrapped around the finger of a venomous snake.”

“We need a drink,” Tarryn said flatly, her eyes narrowing with sudden resolve. “A really big one.”

“My parents are still in the dining room,” Lydia warned, looking up.

“I don’t care. Your dad just traded your life away, the least he can do is sponsor our blackout.”

Ten minutes later, the two of them were crouched behind the cellar door in the packhouse pantry, snickering quietly as Tarryn slipped two vintage bottles of heavy red wine from the Alpha’s private rack into her jacket. Sneaking past the guards was child’s play for the two of them, and within half an hour, they were sprawled out on the rug in Tarryn’s living room, an empty bottle already rolling across the floor.

Lydia took a heavy swig directly from the second bottle, her cheeks flushed red and her green eyes hazy. “I hope he’s ugly,” she muttered, slurring slightly as she leaned against Tarryn’s shoulder. “I hope Alpha Asher Frost has a giant nose and smells like wet dog.”

“He probably has terrible posture,” Tarryn agreed solemnly, waving her wine glass in the air and spilling a few dark drops on the rug. “And Cindy probably has fake teeth. You’re going to go there, be completely insufferable, and make his life a living hell.”

“I am,” Lydia declared, tipping her head back against the couch with a dizzy giggle. “I’m going to be the worst Luna in werewolf history.”

Tarryn pulled a third bottle from her bag with a triumphant grin, uncorking it with her teeth and handing it over. By midnight, the living room was a disaster of empty bottles, spilled wine, and tangled limbs as the two of them lay star-shaped on the carpet, staring up at the ceiling.

“You should wear sweatpants,” Tarryn giggled, her voice thick and slurred as she gestured wildly in the air. “No—wear a giant, ugly holiday sweater with bells on it. Walk right up to Alpha Frost and give him a big, noisy hug.”

“I’ll wear muddy boots,” Lydia gasped through tears of laughter, clutching her stomach. “And when I meet his precious little Cindy, I’ll just loudly ask her if she needs help finding a good hair mask because her ends look dry. She’ll hate me instantly.”

“She’ll lose her mind!” Tarryn cackled, rolling over to bump shoulders with her. But as the laughter died down, a sudden, heavy silence settled over the room.

Lydia stared at the ceiling, the warm blur of the alcohol failing to drown out the sudden knot in her throat. Her eyes welled up, and this time, it wasn’t from laughing.

“I don’t want to leave,” Lydia whispered, her voice cracking as a single tear escaped down her temple. “I don’t want to move hours away to some cold pack with an Alpha who doesn’t even want me. I’m going to miss you so much, Tarryn.”

Tarryn’s face softened, her own eyes spilling over as she crawled closer and wrapped her arms tightly around Lydia. “I’m going to miss you too,” she sobbed openly into Lydia’s shoulder. “It’s not fair. You were supposed to stay here, find your mate, and we were supposed to raise our kids together.”

The two of them clung to each other on the floor, sniffling and crying loudly as the reality of the morning finally crashed over them, drowning out the joke-filled bravery with pure, drunk heartbreak.