The Immortal Howl

{4}

Night has fallen in the realm and wolves emerge from their villages in luxurious gowns and suits, ready for the single most important night of the year: The Galae Nomen De Luna.

In eighteen years, I've never seen something so incredibly overwhelming. In truth, I am absolutely terrified, times ten. The Galae Nomen De Luna was notorious for "gifting" young females with protective, possessive mates. And unfortunately, tonight I am going to be one of those young females.

Even as a kid, I could never understand the significance of having a mate—someone with whom I share my soul. Big whoop. Can't my soul be mine only? Nope! Here's a man to blah blah blah. Who cares? I certainly don't. Especially with my mother pestering me throughout the entire ride.

"Fix your dress or your mate will reject you."

"Smile with teeth or your mate will reject you."

"Don't snort or growl or your mate will reject you."

"Violet, this is the one night you shouldn't be yourself. Go grab yourself a powerful mate and bring us an alliance."

I hate how judgmental she is. But that's because I'm a royal daughter—a disappointment. Because I could have been a strong son, a carrier for the family name, dynasty, and bloodline.

Let's just say that five minutes into the trip to Fastus territory, I was ready to break a stiletto and stab someone. That's why as soon as we got here, I made a bee-line to get as far from her and as close to the chocolate fountain as possible. Nearly tripping over my own heels and slipping on my dress more than I'd like to admit, I burst through the barrier separating my past from my inevitable future.

Dim purple spotlights illuminate the ballroom and rotate in circles around the dancefloor. Uneasiness creeps up my arms, and I shiver in discomfort as my inopportune thoughts drift and latch onto the magazine article.

It's none of my business. At least, that's what I'm telling myself. He grew up—also what I'm telling myself. And growing up did him well. Very well. He decides what to do with his life. And I haven't been in it for years. So who am I to judge? But I must judge. No. That's who he is now. If he and his girlfriend are okay with it, then I should, too. It's his life, not mine. I'm not his mate. I can't just waltz in here and-

Like a switch, my mind draws a blank, and everything seems to slow as the music changes from quick and heavy to light and slow. Wolves find their partners—their mates—and engage in an eerily synchronized waltz.

"Ah!" I shriek as a cup of ice takes a dive off the deep end and into my corset. My mind is sporadically searching for something to focus on, impossibly occupied by the eruption of icy chills.

"I'm so sorry—" a voice calls out. A glass clinks with the table and they rush off before I can even look up. Great. A cold river flows down my stomach, my bra acting as a funnel to separate the ice from its corpse.

My eyes frantically search the ballroom as I freeze to death, shivering and shaking while the ice melts. Then I see it. A shadow amidst the crowd of chaos, swirling in mystery—no, curiosity. A desire to know more overwhelms my senses, and I slowly lose myself to the intoxication—the lust—to quench my fascination.

Suddenly, I find myself drowning, slowly losing myself—a slave to time. The music draws out into a soft pounding in the back of my head, and the once crowded ballroom instantly empties as I stand alone facing a stranger dancing among the shadows.

My mind isn't mine anymore; it melts into the waves surrounding me—strangling me. His existence alone is enough to lure me in without hesitation. And that's exactly what it does—what I do.