3. Mate

Chapter three: 

Kaireen’s Pov

I stood there like an idiot, staring at the sea of masked faces in the arena, trying to make sense of what I'd just walked into. The arena was massive, too massive to exist inside Rhia's house, and yet here it was. The banner hanging overhead said BRIROYALS INITIATION in letters that seemed to glow and pulse, and I had no idea what that meant.

People were moving now, forming lines near the walls. I didn't know what else to do so I joined one of them, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. 

I cleared my throat and turned to the person next to me, someone in a blue mask. "Why are we all standing here? What are we supposed to do?"

The blue mask tilted toward me and I heard a woman's voice, cold and suspicious. "Do you know the rules or are you just trying to strike conversation to get a strike?"

Strike? "What's a strike?"

Someone behind me laughed, low and dark. "A strike means you leave the game before it starts. And you might not actually leave alive."

My blood went cold. I turned to face the person who'd spoken, a tall figure in a white mask. "I didn't know there was a game. I just came to see my friend and those guards forced me to put on this mask and—"

"You're in the Cross Mackerel mansion," the white mask said, and I could hear the smirk in their voice. "This is one of the largest initiations ever, done annually. You walk in, you play. Those are the rules."

Mackerel. That was Rhia's grand family name. Her brother was hosting this? What the hell kind of event was this?

"What do we have to do?" I asked, hating how my voice shook.

The blue mask next to me shifted closer. "See those?" She pointed across the arena and I followed her gesture. Hanging from the ceiling on long chains were dozens of baseballs, spaced out across the massive space. They swayed slightly, glinting under the dim lights. "You need to get to one of those baseballs before your captor does. If your captor reaches it first, you're out. And being out in this game means you might get killed. Dismembered, if you're unlucky."

I stared at her, waiting for the punchline, for someone to tell me this was a joke. But her posture was rigid, tense. She was serious.

"This is insane," I whispered.

"This is the Briroyals," the white mask behind me said. "It's done once in a lifetime. If you survive, you're in. If you don't..." He trailed off with a shrug.

Tears pricked my eyes and I blinked them back furiously because I would not cry here, not in front of these strangers. This morning I'd been disowned by my pack. This afternoon I'd driven four hours running away from the only home I'd ever known. And now I was trapped in some twisted game where people could die over a baseball. I still want to believe I'm hallucinating and Rhia would come and laugh at me.

This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

A loud bell rang out, echoing through the arena like a gunshot, and everything exploded into chaos.

People scattered in every direction, running, shoving, clawing at each other to get to the baseballs first. I watched in horror as someone in a red mask tripped and went down, and three others trampled right over them without stopping. Someone else grabbed a woman by her hair and yanked her backwards, throwing her to the ground. Blood splattered across the polished black floor.

They were serious. This was real. People were actually fighting, actually hurting each other, and I was just standing here like a frozen deer while bodies crashed around me.

 I had to move.

Most people were running toward the center of the arena where the baseballs hung in clusters, easier to reach. The fighting there was brutal, bodies slamming into each other, fists flying, screams cutting through the air. But there were other baseballs hanging at the far edges of the arena, farther away but less crowded.

I made my decision and ran.

My legs burned as I sprinted across the arena floor, dodging people who weren't paying attention to me, focused on their own targets. My lungs screamed for air but I pushed harder, faster, because if I stopped I might die and I was not dying here, not like this, not today.

The baseball at the far corner came into view, swaying gently on its chain. No one else was near it. Everyone was fighting over the ones in the center. I could make it. I could actually make it.

I jumped, my fingers stretching up, and I slammed my palm against the baseball so hard it swung wildly on its chain. The impact sent shock waves up my arm but I'd hit it, I'd reached it first, I was safe—

Hands grabbed me from behind and yanked me backwards.

I screamed, trying to twist away, but whoever had me was strong. Too strong. They spun me around and slammed me against the wall, their body caging me in, and I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only stare up at the figure looming over me.

He was tall, easily over six feet, with a body that looked like it had been carved from stone. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, muscles visible even through his dark shirt. And he was wearing the same green neon mask as me.

"You're a fucking cheater," I gasped out, trying to shove him away. "I hit the ball first. I was here first—"

A growl rumbled out of him, deep and primal, and it vibrated through my chest where we were pressed together. That was not a human sound. It's a wolf sound.

Then he moved, dragging me away from the wall, away from the chaos of the arena, through a door I hadn't noticed before. I tried to fight but it was useless, he was too strong, and before I knew it we were in a small dark room and the door was slamming shut behind us.

"Mine."

The word came out rough, possessive, and I froze because I knew that tone. Every wolf knew that tone.

"What—"

"Mine," he said again, softer this time, and then his hands were on me. One cupped the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair, tilting my head to the side. The other traced down my shoulder, my arm, gentle but claiming. "Where the hell have you been, little wolf? What the fuck are you doing in a place like this?"

His voice washed over me like warm water, deep and rich and doing things to my body that I didn't understand. My wolf, that half useless pathetic thing that was never alive, suddenly came alive inside me, pressing against my skin, whining with need.

No way. This wasn't right. I didn't know this person.

"Did I hurt you?" His thumb stroked the side of my neck and I shivered. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to grab you so hard, I just saw you there and I couldn't—" He made a frustrated sound. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting, dear mate."

I should have pulled away and demanded he let me go. But my body had other ideas, melting into his touch like I'd been starving for it. His hand moved from my neck down to my collarbone, then lower, and when his palm cupped my breast through my shirt I gasped.

"Fuck," he breathed. "Look at you. So responsive." His thumb found my nipple and pinched, rolling it until it hardened into a tight peak, and I moaned before I could stop myself. "So perfect."

“No .. stop..” I gasped weakly, this felt so right but wrong that I didn't know what to say to defend myself away from this powerful masked figure.

His mouth found my neck, lips and teeth grazing over my pulse point, and my knees went weak. His other hand left my breast and traveled down, down to the waistband of my jeans.

"Wait," I managed to say, but it came out breathy and weak. "What are you doing?"

"Claiming what's mine, let me just…. " His fingers popped the button of my jeans open with practiced ease.

This was insane. I didn't know this man. I'd just met him in the middle of a killing game and here I was letting him touch me, letting him unbutton my jeans and shifting my pants and slide his hand lower. I should stop this. I'd never let anyone touch me like this before, had always pushed men away when they tried, but something about him made me want to submit, made my body arch into his touch instead of away from it.

His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of my panties and I whimpered. It was electric waves that made my knees weak.

"That's it," he murmured against my neck. "Let me hear you."

He cupped me there, his palm pressing against my center, and the sensation was so intense I saw stars. My hips rocked forward without my permission, seeking more friction, more pressure, more of whatever this was that he was doing to me.

"So wet already," he groaned. "Fuck, you're killing me."

His fingers moved, one sliding through my folds, and I cried out. My hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging in through his shirt, because I needed something to hold onto or I was going to collapse.

"Please," he said, and his voice had gone rough, desperate. "Let me see you. Let me see your face." His free hand came up to the edge of my mask. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for this moment. How long I've been waiting for the day I could own you, claim you as mine."

Mate.

 The word slammed into my brain with sudden clarity. This man was my mate. That's why my body was responding like this, why my wolf was practically purring inside me. The universe had given me a mate and I'd found him here, in this nightmare of a game, and he was touching me like he'd die if he stopped.

How could the universe be so cruel? To let me find my mate in a place like this?

But even as the thought crossed my mind, I knew I wanted to see him. Needed to see him. My hand came up and covered his where it rested on my mask.

"Okay," I whispered.

He pulled the mask off slowly, carefully, and I blinked as my eyes adjusted to seeing without the green tint. His hand was still between my legs, fingers still moving in slow circles that made my breath come in short gasps, but he'd gone very still otherwise.

I looked up at him, at the green mask still covering his face. "I want to see you too."

He didn't move or speak anymore.

Something cold started to spread through my chest, cutting through the heat he'd built there.

"What?" I asked. "Am I too ugly to be your mate?"

His hand jerked away from me like I'd burned him. The loss of contact made me want to cry out, made my body ache with sudden emptiness. He took a step back, then another, and I could see his hands curling into fists at his sides. His whole body was shaking.

"What the fuck," he said, and his voice had gone flat and cold.

 This was wrong. He'd been so gentle, so possessive, and now he sounded like I'd disgusted him.

"Let me see your face," I said, reaching for his mask, but he caught my wrist in a grip that hurt.

For a long moment he just stood there, breathing hard, his body radiating fury and something else I couldn't name. 

Then he dropped my wrist, turned on his heel, and walked to the door.

"Wait—"

The door slammed shut behind him with a sound that echoed in the small room, and I was left alone in the darkness with my jeans still unbuttoned, my body still trembling with need, and absolutely no idea what the hell had just happened.