Chapter 1
EMLYN
Somethingaboutamatingnight always feels different.
I’ve felt it as long as I can remember.
And it’s not just the fact that mating night is one of the few nights all the members of the pack come together for a common goal. It’s not the fact that we’re out of the hollowed-out remains of the city for once, away from the evidence of everything that’s wrong with our world. It’s true that mating night feels like a vacation, and sleeping under the stars is always a treat. But there’s more to it than that.
Mating nights are some of the few nights I’ve ever experienced a sense of hope among the pack. On mating nights, people aren’t just bitter about our past—they’re planning for a future that some even believe might be possible.
Mating nights are all about possibility.
My best friend, Jess, grunts in displeasure and frustration beside me. “I can’t get my braid right,” she says. “Can you help me?”
I step behind her and take her hair in my hands. “It looks fine to me,” I tell her, but I’m already combing through it with my fingers. This isn’t about looks, and I know it. She’s nervous about tonight.
“I’m sure you’re going to get a good match,” I tell her. “The odds are good this year. There are eleven men coming of age, and only five women.”
Jess nods. “At least I’ll be sure to getsomeone,” she said. “This is the one night of my life I’m actually glad for the fact that there are more men in the pack than women.”
“We shouldn’t really be glad about it,” I say. “Not ever. Weneedmore women. The fact that there are so few of us…” I hesitated. I don’t want to cast a pall over tonight’s festivities. We’re celebrating tonight, not worrying about the often inevitable-seeming fate of our pack.
“Do you think we’ll be able to carry babies to term?” Jess asks.
“You know we have our best chances to do that with alpha mates,” I tell her. It’s the same thing we’ve been taught since we were little girls, but always before, it was an abstract premise. Today, it’s beginning to feel real. “The pack alpha will match us with the person he feels gives us the best genetic chance of producing strong babies.”
“I have this fantasy that I’m going to be the one to finally do it,” Jess says. “To carry a baby that survives."
I nod. I know what she means. Almost no one can do that. Not anymore.
Not under the Inverse Moon.
“Who are you hoping to be mated with?” Jess asks.
“Oh, I don’t know.” I don’t want to answer the question. It feels like I’d be jinxing it.
But Jess gives me a knowing look. “You want Victor, don’t you?”
Victor. I feel a rush of heat at the sound of his name. Of course I want him. He’s the sexiest man in our year, and in my opinion, the sexiest man in the whole pack. I’ve had a thing for him for years. And now that I’m of mating age, I fully intend to mate with him, whether he’s my alpha mate or not.
There are afewperks of living in a world that requires women to seek out every reproductive opportunity.
But even though the pack will allow—encourage—me to fuck anyone and everyone who interests me, in the hope that I’ll get pregnant, there’s still something special about the alpha mate. We’ll be bound to each other by the mandate of our pack’s alpha. We’ll be tied to each other for at least one week of every month, the week when I am most likely to conceive. During that time, we’ll find ourselves a love nest and retreat to it, coming up only when we need to eat. All our energy will be devoted to conceiving a child.
A solid week in bed with Victor every single month sounds like heaven. I can imagine being with Victor would be so intense, I might not want to be with anyone else anyway.
“Everyone wants Victor,” I tell Jess, deflecting her question. “He’s the strongest in the pack. Probably the most likely to give one of us a successful pregnancy. If someone from our yeardoescarry to term, I’m willing to bet money it’ll be his mate.”
Jess giggles at the old expression, and I smile too. It’s one of those idioms we learned from the pack elders, something they say all the time, but that has no real meaning for us. I know what moneyis, of course. I’ve read about it in books. But I was still a toddler when it became obsolete. I don’t remember that world at all.
“Your hair looks good,” I tell Jess.
She pats it critically. “Are you sure?”
“Listen,” I tell her. “Your mate has already been chosen. It doesn’t really matter what you look like when you go out there. You know? I know you want to look good. So do I. But just remember that it’s not actually going tochangeanything. So you don’t need to stress about it.”
“It could change things,” she says. “He could reject me.”