Chapter 2

Blossom POV

I shivered slightly as my uncle tightened his grip on my arm and pushed me forward to stand at the center of the Royal Werewolf Court. I could feel the steely-eyed gaze of the court's high leadership piercing me, but I dared not look up. There was no way I was going to let them see how frightened and alone I felt.

I was there as a substitute for my sister Diana, who had escaped the grip of our uncle before landing in the very position I now found myself in. Even when I had helped my sister to get away, I never expected that I would be the one selected as the mate for the alpha. It was Diana whom our royal family had offered to the courts as a substitute mate for the newly widowed Dean, the alpha leader of New Orleans' largest werewolf race. I had never actually laid my eyes on him before, but I had heard plenty about him. He was said to be one of the strongest leaders ever known, a fierce warrior who ascended to his position as alpha at a very young age. But that wasn't all I had heard about him.

I also was aware of what the women werewolves said about Dean—that when taking werewolf form, he had legs as strong as tree trunks, but moved with the agility of an antelope and quickness of a cheetah. He was extremely handsome in either form and it is said that his beastly scent can make females want him instantly. I wasn't sure how much of that was true, but as I stole a sideways glimpse in Dean's direction, I had to admit, the mere sight of him stirred something deep within me.

Dean stood casually on the sidelines, his father standing just to his side. For his part, he seemed quite disconnected from all that was going on around him. His face showed pure indifference. Not once had he even looked my way. Had he bothered, he would have seen a beautiful, young she-werewolf with stunning green eyes, naturally full lips, and a thick mane of long, dark brown hair that seemed to have golden strands that glimmered when the light hit them just right, almost like glimmers of fire.

I visibly jumped, startled from my thoughts by the thunderous voice of my uncle, Alejandro, formally presenting me to the court, stating, "Your honors, I present to you my niece Blossom, a worthy young maiden werewolf of noble blood. She is here in place of her sister, who as you know, is now a fugitive, a runaway, from the authority of the most honored Royal Court. Our royal pack presents the beautiful and enchanting Blossom as a gift to the noblest alpha leader of our race, as a token of our gratitude for the many gifts and favors bestowed upon our pack."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at him, causing my uncle to grasp my arm even tighter and give it a shake, as though to "keep me in line." I knew my reaction was not considered appropriate behavior. But Alejandro claiming that I was being handed over as some sort of token of appreciation was ridiculous. He is lucky I did not laugh aloud.

Everyone, from my uncle to the alpha to the leaders of the court, knew exactly why Alejandro had pounced on the opportunity to hand over his niece—first Diana, and now me, Blossom—to Dean: he hoped it would bring him power, prestige, and wealth. That is all. While of noble blood, Alejandro had never quite made a place for himself among the uppermost echelon of our race. I had heard bits and pieces of his past. I knew it involved his love for a beautiful she-werewolf of another pack when he was young. He had been rejected by her father as being unworthy. I didn't know more than that nor did I care.

All that mattered was that I was here, standing before the court and standing before my soon-to-be mate. I felt like a lamb led to auction, all eyes upon me, seemingly in expectation. But the expectation of what? Was I expected to look humble? Grateful? Happy? Or, was it scorn I saw in their eyes? Was I to be the target of their anger over my sister's sudden and unexpected revolt?

Perhaps they were waiting for my true noble heritage to make itself physically apparent in some way. Sometimes, I forgot I was of royal blood. My sister and I had lived under our uncle's rule since we were young, following the untimely death of our parents. But far from providing a loving home to two young children who felt lost and overcome with grief, Alejandro offered nothing but cold indifference. It was a stark contrast to the loving home we had known with our parents. Alejandro made it clear that he had only taken us in to gain the riches of our parents. He stripped us of our property rights and stole our wealth, all in the name of compensation for taking us in.

But even that was not enough, and Alejandro seemed constantly in pursuit of ways to gain stature and wealth beyond what he already accumulated, as though trying to fill a gaping void that he could never satisfy. He spent nearly every waking hour in greedy pursuit of money and power, and I had long ago lost count of his many schemes and activities to accumulate more riches, more property, and more status. He was such a dark contrast to my dear, dead father, a kind and compassionate he-werewolf who loved his daughters unconditionally.

The thought of my parents caused tears to well up in my eyes. Realizing he had started to loosen his grip, Alejandro tightened his clutch on my arm once again, as though he was worried if he loosened his hold, I would vanish, like my sister. His fingertips began to dig into my flesh, adding to my discomfort.

I appear staunch in my resolve not to let them see a single tear cascade down my perfectly curved cheek—not the court, not my uncle, and certainly not Dean nor his father. I had so many emotions churning within, for a moment I thought I may be sick or pass out. But I had always been able to draw upon an inner strength from deep within whenever I felt at my most vulnerable and weakest.