Bonded Beyond Trickery (Trick or Treat Monsters)

CHAPTER 4

WHITAKER

I tug at the collar of my shirt, hating that I’m wearing a suit even though it’s appropriate considering I’m heading to the mating ball. If it were up to me, I’d go in jeans and a henley, but that would not be appropriate for tonight.

It’s a damn good thing that shifters are attractive, and I know I’m wearing my suit well. With a glance around my pack, who have gathered around in front of the packhouse, we do clean up well. Everyone is dressed up and the women are primped and painted to highlight their beauty.

While it’s true that I’m not interested in any she-wolf who isn’t my mate, that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the beauty around me. Most of the women are wearing long dresses made out of material that clings to their bodies. It’s a good thing that shifters run hot because no one seems to notice the slight chill in the air even though there is quite a bit of skin on display.

The guys are dressed in slacks and button downs for the most part, but there are quite a few in full suits. They clearly got new haircuts, and a lot have styled their hair. It’s endearing; I hope their mates appreciate the effort.

My gut is twisting at the thought of not finding my mate. Still, being surrounded by my pack, so many of their faces filled with hope to find their mates, allows me to push away the fear of coming home alone. For some of my wolves around me, this is their first mating ball.

Not only are they excited about the prospect of finding their mate, but they’re excited to visit another pack and dress up for the night. It’s a novelty, for sure, but one I’m pleased they can revel in.

“Remember,” I project my voice to ensure that everyone standing in front of the packhouse can hear me, “keep in mind that while we’re at Blood Moon, you’re there as a representative of Silver Howler. Show respect to any Alphas who are in attendance. Keep your nose peeled for your mate and let me know if there’s anything I can help you with.” The grinning faces of my packmates show hope in a way which has the ache growing in my chest. “May the Moon Goddess bless you this evening with a mate. If you are so blessed, be open and honest with the other half of your soul. Cherish them for who they are and expect nothing less for yourself.”

Howls explode from those around me and their enthusiastic reaction has my chest warming. The contentment and the happiness of the pack wraps around me and reminds me that the emptiness I feel without my mate is only a fraction of who I am.

“Many mates will be found tonight,” my wolf growls softly in my mind.

That has me pausing as I climb into the passenger seat of an SUV along with some of my top warriors. My eyes stay trained on the passing scenery as we head to the Blood Moon Pack.

It can be bittersweet when mates are found between packs, and it has nothing to do with the jealousy that threatens to pull me under and drown me. When mates are found in another pack, that means we might gain a pack member, but losing a pack member is equally as possible.

Tradition used to dictate that the female would always follow the male to his pack. In some ways pack life and culture is still very much geared toward the males, but we’re changing in other ways. It’s not a given that the female will be the one to go to their mate’s pack now.

I force myself to think about whether Silver Howler will gain more pack members than we lose in the wake of the mating ball. Unfortunately, that has me wondering if we’ll be gaining a Luna this time around.

I almost don’t have it in me to be disappointed one more time. How many of these balls and visits to other packs have I gone on with far too much hope? Every time I’ve been let down, every time I’ve gone back to my pack alone, it’s embedded a bitterness deep inside of me that I don’t want to recognize or admit is truly there.

But it is.

I feel it festering inside of me and growing with every passing minute that I remain mateless.

“Tonight will be different,” my wolf assures me with a sense of clarity that has me pausing.

“What do you mean, ‘tonight will be different’? How do you know?” My questions are demanding which would normally make my wolf bristle. He is, after all, an Alpha.

I brace for my wolf to snarl at me and the headache that it, inevitably, brings with it. Shocking me entirely, my wolf lets out a gentle chuff and settles in my mind. I can almost see him languidly stretching, almost as if preparing his muscles for the hunt.

Normally he’s agitated, on edge, and raring for a fight. It’s one of the reasons that it’s been difficult to keep my own emotions in check over the last few years, the problem only getting worse the longer we don’t have our Luna at our side.

The feral edge I’ve gotten so used to, the one that has forced me to keep a tight leash on my control, has almost completely evaporated. It’s unsettling in a way I never thought it would be.

“How can you be so relaxed? It’s unlikely that our luck will change tonight, that we’ll suddenly find our Luna,” I bark the words at him, wanting to rile him up because at least then it’s behavior I can understand.

The need to have our other half feels like a brand always being pressed against our skin and our soul. It’s painful and constant. In so many ways, without my Luna, the resentment of my wolf and myself, has grounded me and anchored me.

As my wolf simply huffs and rolls onto his side in my mind, the sensation of feeling lost intensifies.

His rumble is lazy and sets my teeth on edge, “You’ll find out soon enough.” At my grunt, he sits up a little straighter, a steel edge to his growled thoughts, “Just remember that our Luna is to be cherished, no matter what.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I don’t think I’ve ever felt or sounded more panicked in my own mind then I do right now. “What aren’t you telling me?”

He huffs and I swear if a wolf can smile, mine is grinning from ear to fucking ear right now. “We will find our Luna tonight,” there’s a promise in his tone.

I sit up straighter in my seat, the movement earning a side eye from the warrior driving me. He doesn’t press, doesn’t ask if I’m okay, but focuses back on the road. With the knowledge that we will be meeting our mate tonight, I’m tempted to tell him to step on the fucking gas.

It’s a struggle, but I stop myself from the command while trying to rest. When I close my eyes, a sense of peace and calm settles over me. My wolf would not steer me wrong, especially when it comes to our mate. The chuff he lets out only punctuates what I know to be true.

While heading toward our destiny, I create lists in my head all of them centered around whether or not the Silver Howler Pack is ready to receive its Luna, finally. It’s something I’ve always hoped to happen, but nervousness has me wondering if everything is in place and worthy of being home, of being a safe place, for my mate.

“She’ll be fine,” my wolf insists, his large head resting over his paws like he doesn’t have a care in the fucking world. “We’ve done well, and we’ll be even stronger when we have our Luna,” I swear my wolf says the last word on a dreamy sigh.

I almost snort out a laugh. Where did my vicious and half feral Alpha other half go? I would have expected him to be even more restless and on edge with the knowledge that we will find our mate tonight. Fucking finally.

The fact that my wolf is placid makes me even more confused about the entire situation.

“I don’t need to be restless,” he huffs, “you’re doing a fine job all on your own without my input.”

With my eyes squeezed shut, I search my own soul for the peace my wolf has seemingly found. It’s not easy to come by at all.

What do you do when you’re about to get everything that you’ve wanted for such a long time? My wolf’s promise feels surreal and part of me doesn’t want to believe him. When he snarls in my mind without picking up his head, his reminder to stay positive and put my faith in him is clear.

By the time we enter the Blood Moon Pack and pull up to the packhouse, I’m a bundle of nerves which is not something I’m used to because of my position and how many times I’ve been where I am right now. Tonight shouldn’t be any different than all the other mating balls and all the other meetings where I could have come in contact with my mate.

“But it is different,” my wolf yawns and stretches before standing up in my mind when we pull to a stop. He’s not pacing; he’s settled. I try to find some strength in his behavior, but it’s starting to freak me the fuck out honestly. “Because,” he chuffs as I reach for the door handle, “she’s here.”

As the door swings open, I’m assaulted. That’s the only way to describe what happens when I’m hit in the face with the scent of my mate. It’s the only thing I can smell even though I know the scent should be mixed with the scents of hundreds of other and the overarching scent of the Blood Moon Pack.

But the only scent that matters, the one that carries on the air and wraps around me, is the scent of chocolate, orange, and something unique to my female.

“Mate,” my wolf growls, the sound, the simple confirmation of what he’s been saying, vibrates throughout my entire body.

A growl escapes my lips from deep in my throat. Even as I try to swallow it down, it’s impossible. My pack mates, the ones who have travelled with me to find their own mates, freeze, and turn toward me slowly at the sound. But I don’t pay them any attention.

I can’t.

There is only one thing that I’m focused on, helped along by my wolf, and that’s finding my mate.

She’s here. Really here.

My feet move without thought or direction from me. I wouldn’t be surprised to be told I’m running, even though I know I’m not. It certainly feels like a possibility considering how fast my heart is racing.

I round the back corner of the packhouse and come to the edge of the area that’s been set up to feel like it’s both outdoors and indoors, the perfect place for children of the Earth to find their forevers with the grace of the moon shining down, not giving a single fuck if anyone is following me or not. How could I when the only thing that matters is finding my mate.

My mate.

She’s here.

Fuck.

Scanning the crowd isn’t necessary. I see her instantly. Her back is to me, bare and showing off her back. It’s an expanse of creamy skin that I want to skim with my mouth. The red dress she’s wearing caresses her in a way that has me teetering on the edge of far too jealous for my own fucking good.

When the hell did I become jealous of a fucking dress?

The woman freezes and then slowly, far too slowly considering she knows that I’m here and her mate, turns toward me. I take all of her in, the information like the flash of a camera. Her golden hair with loose curls toward the bottom and styled in a way that makes her look like a starlet. The simple, but elegant and daring making up she has on, including red lipstick. The blue of her eyes which sparkle like the stars hanging above our heads even though they are too far away to touch or commune with. The curves of her body that my hands itch to map and trace.

All of her. My mate. I see it all.

And then the haze of the initial pull falls away and I see so much more. The way her eyebrows pull together, concern written all over her face. The way fear shines in her eyes. The way it feels like she’s holding herself back even as her heart races and her body wants her to erase the distance between us.

I know her. She is Alpha Crew’s younger sister, Tilly.

The world, everything I’ve ever known, crashes down around me.

Memories of meeting her five years ago at her first mating ball, which she wouldn’t have been allowed to attend if she wasn’t of age, assault me. Did she know? The way guilt wafts off her and hits me square in the chest tells me everything I need to know.

When I go to turn and stalk away from this horrible tableau, my wolf snarls, “You will not leave our mate.”

It’s the first sign of real, true aggression that he’s shown tonight. He’s not raging that she knew we were mates five years ago and somehow hid it from me. He’s not growling over the fact that she kept herself from me, from us.

Something in me breaks and I stalk towards my mate on silent feet, those of a predator who has sighted their prey.

When I’m close, so close I can taste her chocolate scent and feel her panting breaths against my chest, even through the layers of my suit which strain to contain my bulging muscles as everything in me screams to shift and run, I growl. It’s low and threatening, but it’s also filled with pain.

Tilly’s eyes fill with unshed tears. A lesser woman would drop to their knees and beg. But not this woman, my mate, she squares her shoulders and looks me in the eye.

“Mate,” she whispers, so softly that I almost miss it.

The sweetness of this moment is tarnished by anger and confusion. Taken from me. From us. And I want to know fucking why.

Before I can respond or ask any questions, Crew is standing next to us, his eyes wide and wild as he looks between us. My posture is aggressive, but I don’t have it in me to care. Why should I? The she-wolf in front of me, my female, isn’t afraid of my posture.

She’s afraid of the secrets she’s been keeping.

It’s written all over her face.

Crew murmurs softly, “It’s clear this is not a conversation for everyone to hear. Follow me. Tristan let me know that his office is open to you.”

I don’t look away from Tilly and the way her eyes plead with me.

“You will listen to what our mate has to say,” my wolf’s demand is clear.

With a wooden nod, I follow Crew with Tilly at my side. I swallow hard to combat the sick feeling churning in my gut. How does this already feel like a betrayal?

My wolf may be demanding for me to listen. Tilly may be begging me with her eyes to let her explain.

But me? I don’t think I’ve ever felt more lost.