Pack Ritual

Clara

Maybe that’s why the Alpha family had gone all out with the banquet hall. He might want to impress the elites from the Dark Shade – the most powerful and prestigious pack in the entire South.

An uneasy sensation turned in my stomach. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s my burning shoulder.

I entered through the doors with other lesser werewolves. The hall was meticulously cleaned. Elites like Griffin, Sisley and Lord Dover were given special trios on the second floor. I watched them enter the large balcony that jutted out like a perch – one could see everything that occurred on the floors from that position.

One lone werewolf stood behind the balcony’s black railing, watching everything. He was a tall older man with features I’ve associated more with a crow than a wolf. Everything about him was sharp: his eyes, his lips, his chin, and well-trimmed beard. He was the only one allowed to not conceal his claws. They were black and elongated. His arms were held behind his back in a pose of graceful savagery.

Our Alpha. Barnes Andelle.

The brutal murderer of my parents.

I saw Lord Dover salute and bow to the Alpha. Even from here, I could smell the oiliness of his flattering tones.

The Alpha’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if annoyed by this interruption. He nodded at Lord Dover, but did not speak. He was a werewolf of few words. I could see his lips move to greet his son and daughter-in-law.

The werewolves around me were all speaking at once, jostling each other, and snarling at one another. They could barely contain their excitement.

I craned my neck to hear the Alpha and Griffin better, but a shrill voice broke out on the first floor.

“Welcome, one and all to the mating ball! How lovely to see you all deep in the throes of lust and love! Oh, it reminds me of my own days when the males all chased us like we were rabbits scurrying from our burrows! How droll! How exciting!”

A woman dressed in electric pink frills, laces, and silk smiled at us with hungry eyes and lips.

Isabelle, the showy Matchmaker of the Moonstone Pack.

Her eyes were tinged with the tell-tale scarlet hue – she was deep in bloodlust.

I wanted to avert my eyes, but I had to make a show. I had to feign frivolous happiness at being invited.

For other werewolves, it would be a night of heat and fire. For me, it only meant another form of iron shackles. I was considered worse than an Omega, the lowest caste class. No doubt they intended me to be coupled to some lowly brute, another Lord Dover in my life to keep me broken and subservient.

I could smell the heat and the lust of both males and females around me.

They had sprayed sickly-sweet aphrodisiac drugs in the air to get all of us in a frenzy. Damp sweat and barely contained hormones hung thick in the air. The overly sweet scent of drugs mixed with the rankest of smells, and I wanted to retch.

I realized I could smell fresh blood as well. Even though the wound in my shoulder was beginning to dry and cake, my nails had dug too deeply into my own palms and dripped with blood.

Somewhere behind me a male young werewolf bayed with frustration, and it seemed like several others would join him. I felt sweat drip down my back. I could feel the eyes of them boring into my flesh. My dress bared my shoulders, and a tasteful slit snaked up all to way up to my thighs. I was on full display for every wolf to think impure thoughts about me.

It would be so easy for them to have their way with me.

Isabelle laughed and cleared her throat. “My lovely dears, as is in tradition of the gods and our great Lunar kin, you must show obeisance to our great leaders. Then after that – well, let us say that I will be eagerly awaiting the registration of so many newly mated couples.”

Isabelle smiled again. “Now, let this blessed event in the name of our Moon Diantha, begin!”

The werewolves all howled, and the heavy beat of drums thrummed through the darkened hall.

We had no need for lights, though some pale blue fires housed in onyx chandeliers were scattered through the ceilings of the hall. Our finetuned ability to smell was enough to be able to pick out where one wolf began and another ended.

We shuffled down a line that I could only explain as lambs queueing up for the slaughterhouse.

Werewolves looked up hopefully at the balcony. Perhaps they would catch the eye of our leader and impress him. For some dreamy fools in the lower caste classes, the mating ball was their only chance to be able to show the Alpha that they didn’t belong in the lower ranks.

I lifted my gaze and saw them on the balcony. Prince Griffin with his arms around Sisley’s waist. Sisley looking down in utter condescension.

The third was the Alpha, front and center.

I saw his cold yellow eyes meet mine for just an instant.

The bravado in me forced me to look back at him. My muddy brown eyes clashed with his bright yellow eyes. I could feel it all: his condescension and amusement. He didn’t fear me. His smile was tight and small, but ruthlessly triumphant. I could feel his nasty thoughts pound in my temples.

My stomach churned, and even though I felt myself on the verge of tearing up, I willed my body to not show a single emotion.

The perfect Alpha. The insidious and intelligent Alpha.

They told me every day that my parents had dared to kill the Alpha in some half-baked plot for power. I never believed it for a second, but that’s not how this absurd pack works.

He killed them in the most brutal way.

“Now, let’s welcome our Prince and Sisley for the opening dance!” The Matchmaker squealed. Her shrill voice brought me back to reality.

The werewolves behind me pushed me forward impatiently, eager to see it. I bit my lip in frustration. But I was unable to avert my eyes from the dancing pool.

“Observe our beloved future Alpha and Luna! Let your love shine as brightly as theirs!” Isabelle chanted.

Cheers and applauses spread across the crowds.

Part of me wanted to turn away, but another part greedily sought out the two intertwined figures dancing on the balcony. I could see Sisley’s perfect form stretching and twisting in perfection. She was always a good dancer – the best in our pack. I hated her guts, but it wouldn’t change the truth. She was beautiful. I saw Griffin’s hands curl around her thin waist and naked back. He too was the epitome of grace and perfection.

They looked just perfect.

My heart ached at the thought of this.

No, I must not think of that. I MUST not.

None of it mattered now.

In a few hours, the guards posted on the perimeter of the Bragne, the dwelling place of the Moonstone Pack, would be lax during the festivities. It would be the best chance for Elena and I to make our way out of the Moonstone Pack without any attentions.

We’ll be free. Elena beckoned with a strange song bubbling within her throat.

Yes, we’ll be free in a few hours. We’ll be free from this nightmare. We’ll be running in our true werewolf form and feeling the power of the moon coursing through our veins.

I lost myself in this reverie for only a moment, before someone touched my shoulder. I thought about the male young werewolf who had his lascivious eyes on me.

I whirled around and snarled without thinking, “Don’t even think about coupling with me, you slime!”