Riley tells me he feels the familial and pack connection with Tyson a hundred per cent and that they went for a run together, which deepened it. Riley says Tyson seems together enough despite those circumstances, though he doesn’t trust us yet. That said, he’s curious enough to come. The others have all met him briefly and Greyson had a long conversation with him. The fact that his mate got saved from a venomous snake bite with our help seems to have opened this door. Tyson had the wrong idea about why he grew up away from us, thinking his pack murdered his parents and his uncle ran with him to keep him safe. From us.
The fact he’s planning to be there tonight says good things about the future. And I’m sure knowledge his own mother is here and safe helps matters.
I can’t get caught up in feeling good about all this with the underlying shit happening with me. I need this to go all right. The taunting shadow in me is telling me if I can’t hold it together, it might be that I’m another Cornelius Savage in the making. I don’t know if I can trust anything I’m feeling, smelling, thinking. I’ve been fighting the urge to get close to them – but not because I’m doing it to meet him, instead to set eyes on her.
“Most men would’ve acted by now and done something stupid. You’ve been smart. You’ve stayed back, talked to your pack, given it time. You got your shit together enough to do this tonight,” Riley reassures while I stand in my kitchen buttoning up my shirt.
I say nothing.
“Right?” He prods.
“Yeah, Rye. I’ll be good,” I assure without eye contact.
Yeah? No? Fucked if I know. Our pack has been waiting for this day for six years since finding out he’s not actually dead. Everyone I care about will be there tonight, celebrating this occasion. Everyone that cares about me will be there, too, and if I were him I’d wonder why the second alpha in his pack’s council hadn’t come forward yet.
Rye slaps my back. “You will,” he declares.
So, I head out with him. He drives. I head out on almost no sleep, something in my blood that has me feeling like I can only imagine someone going through drug detox feels like when heading into a rave.
***
And then I get to the town hall for the strawberry moon party, and everything goes wrong. Worse than wrong.
They say hindsight is 20/20, and I wish I knew what I could’ve done differently.
3
Mason
We’re in the town hall, music playing, and the buzz in the air changes as those scents – the ones taunting me all week, get stronger. His. And hers. The neck of the beer bottle in my hand cracks under the weight of my grip. I set the glass down and swipe my hand on my jeans. I didn’t break the skin, surprisingly. Joel catches this and his brows jut up. I shake my head, trying to show I’m good. But am I?
Joel jumps up and gets rid of the bottle that’s now leaking over the table, shooting me a look of concern.
The fact that he saw it with his eyes but that none of the others sensed it is concerning and makes me feel further disconnected from them.
I’m at a table with all of them; that was my third beer and now it feels like I need something stronger. They’ve been talking casual, but nothing has felt casual all night, nor all week. Until this past week, I’ve always felt like I’m one with my wolf. This disconnect is as if he has been pacing inside a cage. And now, he’s not only pawing at the cage lock, he’s ready to howl at the pink moon as well as tear his teeth into something.
Her scent isn’t something I should feel proprietary about. It’s not meant to be mine. Is it? The confusion amplifies as the fragrance of her grows stronger, as they get closer. I can smell that they’ve recently fucked and that’s got my agitation ramping up, too.
But I’m determined to get through this, to be stronger than whatever it is. Yeah, I’ll work to get through this, but I might need a little help. Joel drops a stack of napkins down with a glass containing two shots of whisky, as if reading my mind, resting his palm on my shoulder for a minute before he sits down.
I drink it back.
“Easy, brother,” Jase mutters as I set the glass down and our eyes meet.
He’s a good-time guy and he’s giving me the look. I should take it seriously if even Jason Creed thinks I should slow down.
My nose tickles and I’m sure they’ve stepped into the building. There’s a crowd, but it doesn’t take long to see them given Tyson looks as tall as Joel. Closer to six and a half feet than six. This puts him at about three inches taller than me and I already know he has a larger wolf than mine and this suddenly bothers me. I see the top of his dark head and then I catch the blonde at his side. A tiny thing. Pretty face. Blonde hair with purple highlights. People swarm them, excited to meet them. She’s shy, looks nervous, but happy. Leaning into him, looking up at him with lavender doe eyes. The buzz in the air is almost deafening to me, ramping up my irritation.