Chapter 3

Ronan POV

The music was loud, and the beer flowed freely. I wasn’t the biggest fan of parties, but tonight I had to suck it up. It was my party, after all.

The hanging white lights from the trees were a nice touch, filling the small clearing with a soft glow. Trucks parked around the edges, tailgates facing front to hold food and people. We had blankets and fold up chairs, plastic cups, and blue jeans. It was noisy—loud and exuberant, with children running around as adults laughed and danced. It was more of a tailgate than an engagement party, but I kept a smile on my face, trying to enjoy it.

I supposed I was simply still struggling with my new role as Alpha. I cared immensely for everyone in this pack, but socializing had never been my strength. Now that I was Alpha, their eyes followed me constantly. It would take some time to adjust.

Our pack lived loosely together deep in the forest; in small serviceable cabins we’d built with our own hands. We were deep enough in the wilderness that hikers couldn’t make it out here, and we worked with the natural cover of the trees, which shielded us from aerial photography. It didn’t seem like the best plan on paper, but hiding in plain sight had worked for hundreds of years for this pack. Or so I’d been told.

I was waiting for the inevitable moment when someone flew over with an infrared camera, looking for a lost hiker and instead finding what looked like some sort of commune. Then what?

This cookout was supposed to be a celebration of my betrothal to the previous Alpha’s daughter, but it was mostly a drunken party in the woods. It was 1 a.m., and everyone was still raging. I was happy my pack seemed to be enjoying themselves, at any rate.

“You could at least pretend to be pleasant.”

My mother shot me ‘the look,’ and I struggled not to cower under her gaze, despite being twenty-seven and six foot five. I would hesitate to call her petite at 5’7”, but most people seemed small compared to me. Her brown, curly hair was much lighter than mine, as well as her complexion. People usually said we looked nothing alike.

Until we got angry.

“Mother. Don’t.”

She sniffed, her eyes flashing yellow before she put her nose in the air. “If you can’t be bothered to enjoy your own engagement party, then at least allow me my contentment. Should I remind you that you’re the one who agreed to the match?”

I bit back the urge to growl, despite knowing she wasn’t completely correct. Mating with Rebecca hadn’t been my idea, but it had seemed like the best solution for everyone. Plus we were childhood friends. Rebecca was the only child of the old Alpha, and our betrothal had soothed over tensions after he had yielded the pack to me, however reluctantly.

Though yielded was a polite term for having one’s throat laid out millimeters from my teeth.

I snorted, pushing down the euphoric rush that typically came with any reminder of my victory. Instead, I scanned the crowd for my intended, frowning when I didn’t immediately see her.

Rebecca was beautiful, in a preppy, Seventeen Magazine, sort of way. Her blonde hair went nearly to her waist, and small freckles coated her light skin, which she was showing plenty of tonight with her short white dress. Her blue eyes had a way of pleading with you for the smallest things. Not that anyone would dream of refusing her. Seeing those red lips pout was the worst.

Rebecca was well-liked, beautiful, and we’d grown up alongside each other. Together, we would have strong pups with the bloodlines of both Alphas. The mateship had been her idea technically—a show of good faith in exchange for her father’s life. Tradition usually dictated the losing Alpha died. A dead Alpha couldn’t stage a coup after all.

I granted her request with the promise she would be my mate. I’d been proud of myself at the time. I was a new Alpha and had saved myself a tiresome search for a mate all in one fell swoop.

So why wasn’t I happier?

“Ronan. Are you even listening?” My mother’s curt voice pierced my thoughts.

My anger left me in a rush. I never could be truly cross with my mother. In the end, everything I’d done had been for her. She was one of the few people who got to see me as anything other than the Alpha.

I sighed, but brought my attention back to my mother. “Sorry, mama.”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief, appeased for now.

“Where is Rebecca?” I asked.

My mother’s hands flicked haphazardly toward the crowd, and I finally found her, holding court with the other female wolves. Her preening prickled me almost as much as my mother’s, but I took a deep breath and let it go. Rebecca was entitled to how she acted. It would be her duty to keep up relations within the pack, just as it was my duty to protect it.

I grabbed another beer out of a cooler and downed it, crushing the can in my fist and tossing it to the ground. My mother huffed in irritation but said nothing. Not even the pack Matron could chastise the Alpha in public. Her eyes softened when my gaze caught hers, and she turned back to the other mothers.

I shook my head, happy at least that she had found purpose in being pack Matron. Her mate was dead, and I couldn’t kill the wolf responsible. Speaking of the devil . . .

Rebecca’s father skulked on the edges of the crowd which was mostly concentrated around the large bonfire in the center of the clearing. Victor snarled when he caught me looking, but I only leveled my own glare at him.

Victor had the look of a once-proud Alpha gone to seed—his dark hair was flecked with bits of grey and white, his body long and lanky. His pale skin glowed from the fire. I struggled not to physically react to his scent. It smelled like something bitter yet spoiled. Like a good plant left to rot. He lowered his head to the ground and slunk away.

Right. That was why I was Alpha; because Victor was a slimy piece off

“There you are! Dance with me?”

Rebecca’s small hand wound around my bicep. She flashed a vivid smile at me, and the red haze cleared a little from my vision.

My hand snaked around her waist, and I pulled her close. She smelled nice, if nothing else.