I can’t bring myself to break out the pompoms and do cartwheels, is all. I’ll put on a front during the gathering and keep my apprehension to myself because there’s no other option.
I’m still questioning myself by the time I reach my room, and I pause and think twice before going inside. I should perform a final check of the empty rooms and make sure there are clean sheets and towels. Somebody will have my hide if anybody ends up with the idea our pack is anything less than prepared for this.
After all, I’m already enough of a stain on the pack’s reputation.
A handful of others are now returning to their rooms to prepare for the big welcoming ceremony tonight. They’re excited, and their gossiping voices carry down the corridor. They’re talking about the guys from the other packs and who will fuck who first. I can ignore this easily enough since it’s all talk, anyway. Even I know it’s against the laws of our kind for members of different packs to mingle like that—especially when one of the wolves is still unshifted.
But who knows? Maybe laws like that don’t matter so much at a time like this when nobody knows how much longer they’re going to live. One of the benefits of being virtually ignored is the information I inadvertently pick up. Like reports at the council meeting of how many casualties the Silver Shadow Pack has already racked up. People are dying. This is for real. Maybe we all have to get what we need while we can.
Once I’ve convinced myself everything is okay, I grab my bathrobe and a towel from my room. What I need most right now is a shower. The halls are increasingly busy, voices overlapping, the energy higher and more intense, thanks to the increased numbers of wolves coming in. It’s a good idea for me to get this over with quickly and stay out of the way of the females wanting to come in and freshen up before the ceremony later. It’s bad enough my own pack lives to make my life hell. I don’t need strangers joining in.
I push open the heavy door leading into the bathroom—and stop short in shock when I realize what I’m looking at.
“Oh… yes… fuck me…” A female shifter I don’t recognize—she must be from another pack—is sitting on the edge of one of the sinks which line an entire wall of the room. Her head hangs back until the top of it touches the long mirror, eyes closed, mouth hanging open so she can whisper and moan.
And between her legs is an enormous man. His jeans are around his ankles, and I watch in silent fascination while his ass clenches and loosens with every hard thrust. He pulls off his shirt, and I’m almost hypnotized by the way his muscles tighten and bunch under the ink covering most of his broad back and shoulders.
He growls, making the hair stand up on the back of my neck before burying his face in the girl’s chest. “Oh, god,” she moans loudly, wrapping her arms around his neck to hold his head close. “Suck them.” She runs her hands through his hair, her head rolling from side to side while he feasts on her, grunting every time their bodies crash together.
I’ve witnessed matings before. We aren’t exactly shy about that kind of thing. But this… is different, somehow. Something about it stirs something in me that’s never been there before. Not that I’ve been aware of. I’ve longed before, I’ve longed for a lot of things for most of my life. But it’s never been this intense, like a fire bursting to life deep in my core and threatening to consume me.
I must make a sound because the girl’s eyes open and lock with mine. My face flushes the way the rest of my body already has, but I’m rooted to the spot. I can’t move. I can’t even apologize for interrupting them.
She’s still staring at me when her head falls to the side, and I understand why when the light hits her skin. She wants me to see the mating mark on her neck reflected in the mirror. I’d swear it glows, the effect pulsing in time with every sharp thrust he delivers.
Her swollen lips curve in a knowing smile. He’s mine. She wants me to know. Mate.
The heat already stirred up in my core turns to something different. More intense. She has a mate, she’s marked, she belongs. She has what I don’t have. What will never be mine. And she knows it, senses it, smirking at me even while she moans her mate’s name.
He lifts his head and meets my gaze in the mirror. A rush of fresh heat races through my system, bitter jealousy that feels like it’s going to eat a hole in me. He bares his teeth but doesn’t lose his rhythm. “You like to watch?” he asks in a deep growl. “I’d break your fucking neck if you were a man.” His mate wraps her legs tighter around his hips before grabbing his face and crushing her lips against his. He would rather kiss her deeply and passionately than think about me anymore. I’m forgotten.