Chapter 3

Cammy POV

I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, the bright lights making my already pale skin appear nearly translucent. My dark golden eyes looked almost too large in contrast. The smoky eyeshadow I had applied so perfectly made me look almost unfamiliar. I leaned in closer, inspecting my ghostly complexion, debating whether a bit of bronzer might make me look more... alive. No. The makeup I was wearing was already more than I normally would. Besides, werewolves had sharp senses—if I painted artificial warmth onto my skin, they’d notice. I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard.

My father had always taught me to keep a closed hand, to never let my emotions show too clearly. My stomach twisted in anxious knots, but no one would ever know it. I liked keeping my emotions in check. It was one of the distinct vampire traits I had inherited, something that set me apart from the rest of the wolves. I fit in just enough not to raise suspicion. So what if I was always calm, collected—never flustered, never overexcited? That was just who I was.

But sometimes, I felt like I was standing outside of my body, watching myself go through the motions—an unshakable mask of control when inside, I was a storm raging to break free. I had to hide my differences. I had to suppress my true instincts. I was a hybrid. I was different.

My vampire half despised crowds. And tonight, I would be the center of attention. I would have to smile until my cheeks hurt, exude confidence, and entertain the countless guests arriving to celebrate my adulthood. They were all here for one reason—to see if the Alpha’s granddaughter would finally form the mate bond that the pack so desperately needed.

I needed to get a grip. My heart pounded in my chest, my breath growing shallower. I tried to take a deep breath, only to fail miserably, nearly choking on the sharp intake of air. A sudden wave of dizziness washed over me. I felt like my blood sugar had dropped, my body sinking to the cool tiles as I pressed my forehead against my knees. The cold floor felt good against my overheated skin. Breathe. In. Out. Slowly. Again. Deeper.

Gradually, the nausea subsided.

In my bedroom, Justine and a few of our girlfriends were finishing their preparations for tonight. I had come into the bathroom for privacy, wanting to change into my new lingerie without an audience. The black high-waisted satin panties and matching bra, adorned with red lace, accentuated my tiny waist and made my curves seem more pronounced. It had looked good in the store, and I had felt proud of my toned body when I tried it on. But now, under the bright bathroom light, the stark contrast against my pale skin screamed vampire. Not a werewolf.

I already didn’t look much like a wolf. I was too small. Wolves were meant to be big. Strength and power were reflected in size, a direct correlation to rank. My family came from one of the most powerful bloodlines in existence, yet I was physically unremarkable. I hadn’t needed size—my vampire half had gifted me with unmatched strength and speed. But I could never let anyone know that. I had always held back, only outpacing the female wolves in training while leaving the males to my grandfather’s teachings. I was respected, perhaps because of my lineage, but I didn’t look like a true wolf.

Why had I chosen this lingerie? I couldn't change now—not with the girls in my room. And I hated how much thought and effort I had put into looking perfect. I felt like an intruder, a fraud. What if hybrids never had a mate bond?

I refused to let myself go down that road.

My moods had been erratic all day. The moment I had impulsively decided to enter that lingerie store, I had been overcome with a giddy euphoria, giggling over the most trivial things. At the salon, Justine had talked me into waxing every inch of my lower body—something I had found exhilarating then but now regretted deeply. My emotions were shifting like the tides, washing over me in uncontrollable waves.

The sensation had started as we left the mall, growing stronger as we neared the hotel where the party was being held. Now, that once intoxicating excitement had curdled into unease. A sickening churn in the pit of my stomach. A sense of wrongness I couldn't explain.

I exhaled sharply, peeling the sheer black stockings off my legs. It felt like too much. Like I was playing a character rather than just being myself. I wasn’t in the mood for the party anymore. The thrill from earlier had long since faded.

I slipped into my red dress, zipping up the back. The bodice hugged my form, enhancing my curves while maintaining a modest elegance. The skirt flared out slightly, hitting mid-thigh—sexy, but not overly revealing. It was stunning. I should feel beautiful.

But I didn’t care anymore.

I left my hair in the loose curls the stylist had painstakingly worked on earlier. My deep red lipstick was still perfectly applied, but my lips turned downward in a frown.

I couldn’t shake this feeling.

My wolf felt uneasy. My emotions were erratic. And it was pissing me off.

Taking one last deep breath, I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin, and wiped all traces of my inner turmoil from my face. By the time I stepped out of the bathroom and rejoined the girls, I was the picture of composure.

The car to take us to the hotel would be arriving in minutes. It was time to face the night ahead.