The Gamma’s Second Chance (Crescent Lake #3)

32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

NOLAN

I pace the foot of the stairs in the lobby of Prescott’s hotel, palms sweating and heart racing. My wolf paces in my mind, too, mimicking my movements and echoing the anxiety rising from my gut. The pacing is an echo of the pacing I did seven years ago as we waited for that mating ball to begin.

I just hope tonight doesn’t end in disaster as well.

Guests for the mating ball mingle in the space, waiting for their turn to enter the ballroom, but I’m aware of none of them. Nothing breaks through my nail-biting trepidation—not the voices echoing or the myriad scents or the precisely arranged decorations placed throughout the hotel—as I wait for Cassandra to join me.

Wes waits with me since Haven and Cassandra are getting ready in their room, while he and I got ready in my room. After about ten minutes of me pacing, he grabs me by the shoulder and forces me to stand still. “You’re going to wear a hole in Prescott’s marble floor.”

I scoff. “He’d deserve it.”

Wesley chuckles and puts his hands in the pockets of his navy blue suit. “Are you all right?” he asks. His voice is casual but quiet, and laced with concern.

I swallow and cross my arms, looking down at my feet and widening my stance slightly, hoping it will keep me from wanting to pace again. “No. I’m not.” I rub my jaw and shake my head. “What if the high oracle was wrong? Or what if they misunderstood the reading? What if her fated mate is here in the crowd of guests, searching for her?”

“I don’t think the oracles are usually wrong. They know a lot.”

“Or what if I find my second chance mate?” I ask, giving voice to the actual issue that has me tied up in knots.

“second chance mates are—“

“Rare, but not unheard of. Selene gave Rachel one. What if she gives me one, too?”

He stares at me, his jaw working beneath his freshly trimmed beard. “You said you don’t want one. You said you’d always be questioning whether you wanted each other for real or if it was only the magic of the bond.”

I tense and nod. “That’s what happened with Kimberly.”

Memories of the first and only other mating ball we attended flicker to life in my mind, threatening to send me spiraling and drowning in a whirlpool of despair and anxiety. But the thought of my mate, the one I chose for myself, the one making her way to me at any moment—my Cassandra—squashes it all. The sparkling rays of her sunshine reach the deepest, darkest recesses of my soul and brighten them. Her smiles, her piano laugh, her sweet floral scent—it’s all a balm.

My heart clenches, and I gaze over my shoulder and up the stairs, hoping to see her gliding towards me. My arms long to hold her and my wolf whines when we don’t see her yet.

“Selene must know that. Maybe she took that into consideration and didn’t give you a second chance mate, knowing you’d always be questioning it,” Wesley says.

I whip my head towards him, a brow arched. “You mean how she took into consideration what was best for Haven when she abandoned her at a fire station as an infant? Or when she wanted to ‘gift’ her with immortality, forcing her to stay young forever as she watched all of us die and leave her alone again?”

We stand in silence. His chest heaves, his hands clenching into fists in his pockets.

“Sorry,” I say, lifting a hand in apology. “I didn’t say that to upset you. And I know she listened to Haven when she told her she didn’t want that gift. But for everything she’s done right, there seems to be more that she’s gotten wrong. I mean, why even tie me to Kimberly in the first place?”

Wesley shrugs. “You’d have to ask Selene that.”

I bark out a harsh laugh and shake my head. “No, thank you. I have no desire to speak to her.”

He laughs, too, opening his mouth to say something, but his eyes lock on something behind me. Something that renders him speechless.

I spin to find Haven walking down the stairs, dressed in a blush pink dress with a sparkling bodice and a chiffon skirt that curves over her baby bump and floats around her, the fabric fluttering and swirling with her every step. Her wild red curls are swept off to one side, the scars on her neck from the attack on her twenty-first birthday on full display. She exudes regality and confidence, with her chin held high and her eyes locked on Wesley. She’s the picture of a perfect luna—tender yet strong, self-assured, and beautifully brave.

Wesley steps around me, removing his hands from his pockets and lending one to her as she descends the last few steps. She smiles at him and shuts her eyes as he leans in to kiss her cheek before looping her arm through his.

“Luna,” I say, greeting her with a nod as they pass me.

“She’ll be down soon,” is all she says in response before Wesley leads her towards the ballroom.

My pacing begins again. Back and forth in front of the carpeted staircase. I rub my jaw, clenching it even as I massage it to relieve the tension. Panic rises once more, closing in on me from all sides, like a pack of hunters circling their prey. My vision narrows, the blood rushing from my head, and it takes every last bit of strength within me to stay upright, to not bolt for the hills.

Or the elevator.

But before I can do either, the back of my neck prickles with awareness, and the fresh scent of daisies mixed with something lighter and sweeter floats towards me from the stairs. I turn, and there she is, gliding towards me, one delicate hand sliding down the banister as she descends, her eyes glued to me.

My mouth goes dry and my lips part, my eyes widening and my heart skipping a beat as I drink her in from her head to her toes, my breath catching in my throat.

Her all black gown hugs her body, fitted all the way to her knees before the skirt flares out and trails behind her. The velvet bodice’s low neckline curves across the swell of her breasts and then dips down in a thin V all the way to her navel. Velvet floral appliques cover the full-length, sheer black sleeves and the top sheer layer of the skirt. The underskirt of the dress is nude, giving the illusion that she’s naked beneath the skirt of the dress, making me imagine that what I’m seeing is not fabric, but the skin of her gorgeous, endless legs that have teased me since that first morning in my kitchen, when she wore those short shorts I loved and yet hated.

Her green eyes twinkle as I devour her with my gaze, a coy smile on her plump lips. They’re painted with red lipstick that’s a perfect match to the red carpet under her feet.

I remember to breathe and race up the stairs to her, trapping her against the railing and leaning forward, caging her in with my hands on either side of her body. She tilts her head up, that sassy smile still on her lips, and the waves of her low, center-parted ponytail fall from her shoulder, tumbling and swaying side to side until they come to a stop. The sleek hairstyle highlights her gorgeous cheekbones, her elegant nose, and her full lips, and I can’t keep my eyes off her.

She’s captivating. She’s ensnared me, body and soul. She’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.

And she’s all mine.

“I don’t know what I want more,” I say, lowering my lips to her ear, my hand wrapping around her waist and gliding over the velvet of her dress. My palm presses into her lower back, and she arches, baring her long neck to me and bracing herself with her hands on the banister behind her. “I can’t decide if I want to show you off to everyone so they can all see how lucky I am to have you as a mate, or if I want to smuggle you back upstairs to our room, remove this dress from your body, and take you to bed.”

“You could do both?” she suggests, blinking up at me through her long lashes. “Make a quick appearance to show me off, and then sneak away to show me how much you love me?”

I step closer to her, guiding her hips to feel the desire rising between my legs. “The second option is more appealing.”

My hands roam her velvet-covered torso, caressing the subtle curves the bodice of her dress highlights—around her lower back, up her sides, ghosting over the curve of her breasts, across the low neckline, and then down the cut to her navel. A mix of a groan and a growl leaves me, and I grab her hips and tug her tight against my body.

“I don’t know if I can handle other males seeing you in this dress, Cassandra,” I say, resting my forehead against hers.

Her lips twitch, and her arms drape around my neck, her fingertips teasing my skin. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

I growl again and dive for her mouth, kissing her hard. A fierce kiss, a claiming kiss on the public centerpiece of Prescott’s pretentious lobby. She arches up into me, giving in to the demands of my lips, hands cupping my neck and bringing me closer still. I taste every inch of her mouth, wrapping myself around her as our lips twist together.

“Do you have your ring on?” I ask when we pull away from each other, both of our chests heaving as we catch our breath.

She nods, her hands sliding from my neck to my shoulders and down my chest, adjusting the collar of my black shirt. “I do.”

I sigh as her fingers trail across the skin exposed by the buttons I left undone. “That will have to do. But I’m not letting you out of my sight tonight.”

She smooths my lapels with a knowing smile, like she expected me to say that. I caress up and down her sides again, taking the time to feel where her waist curves in and her breasts and hips flare out before she spins away from me, showcasing the back of her dress to me.

It’s totally sheer, all the way to the top of her ass. Extending from the base of her neck and down her spine are countless buttons, the last one ending between her cheeks. And the fitted top half of her skirt wraps around her butt, drawing focus to it from the way the fabric stretches with each step she takes and from the buttons nestled between her ass cheeks.

My wolf snarls in my mind, and I almost roar, possessiveness and protectiveness overtaking me as I rush down the stairs and encircle her waist with my arm, my fingers splaying over her abdomen and my face burying into her neck.

“Scratch that,” I say, my voice raspy, low, and strained, my muscles tensing as I keep her tight against me. “I’m not letting you out of my arms tonight.”

She responds by reaching her arm backwards and stroking my cheek. We stand like that, at the foot of the stairs, me holding her and her holding me, my face in her unmarked neck, until Wes mindlinks us. “They’re letting our pack in now.”

I sigh and pull away from her, but I keep my arm around her waist and my hand on her hip as we stroll to the ballroom entrance, where the Crescent Lake members wait. They’ve assigned each pack a separate entrance into the event space, as well as their own time of admittance, in order to space out arrivals and avoid a massive collision of feral, unmated wolves racing towards their mate all at once. Every wolf in attendance who is searching for their mate also took a scent blocker before arriving. They are given the antidote right before entering the ballroom, so no claiming happens before the event starts.

Eager anticipation swirls around our waiting pack members. It builds and builds, passing from one wolf to the next as they whisper in excitement to each other or give smiles of encouragement to their friends waiting with them.

Bile rises in my throat, and I freeze as Cassandra and I reach the edge of our gathered attendees. My grip on her tightens and my vision tunnels again. I hear nothing and see only the door looming in front of us, vast, ominous, and gaping as I walk towards it on autopilot. My wolf shrinks back into the recesses of my mind as the cloying anxiety returns tenfold, wrapping itself around my ankles and weighing me down, drowning me.

Cassandra squeezes my hand on her hip, tugging me to the surface and drawing my focus to her instead of the door. She smiles at me, and I exhale, focusing on her body in my arms to keep me afloat. There’s no reason to panic. I have her. My Daisy.

My mate.

We cross the threshold, and Cassandra guides me around the outskirts of the crowd. She observes the activity of the attendees, watching as mates find each other or friends from other packs say hello. But my attention is on her. I don’t care about the decorations, or the music, or the other guests.

All that matters is her. She’s the one thing keeping me from losing myself.

She leads me to the far corner of the room, where Wes and Haven mingle with other guests, and our roles quickly switch. She freezes when she sees Benjamin chatting with them, his back to us. Color drains from her cheeks. Her hand shakes once, but she tightens her hold on mine to stop it from getting worse. She begins to turn around to head back the way we came, but Haven sees her and waves, causing Ben to glance our way.

Her tension and nerves ease a little, however, when he smiles and gives us a nod to greet us. Wesley beckons us over, and I take the lead this time, keeping my firm hold on her body as I walk us over to join them.

“Alpha Benjamin,” I say, switching to Cassandra’s other side so I can offer him my right hand. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise,” he says as he shakes my hand firmly.

“Any luck?” I ask, pointing my chin towards the crowd.

Benjamin sighs and shakes his head, taking a swig of the drink in his hand. “Not yet.” He takes another drink, then glances between Wesley and me. “It seems, in this, I am not as fortunate as the Crescent Lake males. Or my sisters.”

I smile down at Cassandra, who relaxes further into my touch at his public, verbal acknowledgment of her as his sister, turning closer to my side and resting her palm on my chest. “Not all the packs in attendance are admitted yet,” she says to Benjamin. “She could be waiting outside still.”

“Did Oliver found his mate?” Wesley asks, scanning the crowd with a furrowed brow.

“No idea.” Ben shrugs. “With my luck, he has.”

“He hasn’t,” Haven says, laughing a little.

Ben raises a brow at her. “How do you know?”

“He’s heading this way, and he’s alone.”

I glance over my shoulder, and sure enough, Oliver walks towards us with his hands in the pockets of his burgundy pants. There is a spring in his step, and his blond hair falls in his eyes a bit, almost hiding the glimmer of humor there.

“Still single then?” Oliver asks, quirking a brow at his brother when he reaches him. “Me too,” he says, speaking before Benjamin can answer him.

Benjamin sighs and gestures at Cassandra, changing the subject. “Oliver, this is Cassandra.”

Oliver whips his head around, and his blue eyes widen. He covers his heart with his hands, and with complete remorse and sincerity, he says, “I am so sorry”—he gestures over his shoulder with his thumb—“that you also have to live with this sorry bastard as your brother. But don’t worry. Nicole and I have a support group, and—”

Benjamin shoves him, and Oliver ducks out of his reach as Ben swings his fist towards him. Cassandra laughs, covering her mouth with her left hand. Her ring catches the light from the candles in the room, and my wolf and I both puff our chests up with pride at how perfect the glittering daisy looks on her finger.

“Asshole,” Benjamin says as he takes a sip of his drink, his lips twitching behind the glass.

“I don’t know about all of you,” Oliver says, glancing around at the rest of us, “but I have been looking forward to dessert all day, and it looks as if they’re beginning to serve it.” He nods towards a nearby table where guests are digging into enormous slices of cheesecake.

“Oh, I need one of those,” Haven says, grabbing Wesley’s hand and dragging him towards the closest empty table.

“Pregnancy cravings,” Wesley says over his shoulder as he follows her.

A laugh ripples among us as we, too, follow Haven to the table. “Are you all right?” Cassandra asks as we pause next to the table, her fingers slipping inside the top of my unbuttoned shirt to stroke my skin.

I hug her to me and lift her hand to my lips, kissing her ringed finger. “I am now. I have you.” She shakes her head at my cheesy statement but smiles. “And you?” I ask. “Are you all right?”

She pivots her head to where Oliver and Ben sit, Benjamin massaging his temples as Oliver gives him shit about something, as younger brothers tend to do, and her smile broadens. “I am.”

I kiss the top of her head and give her another squeeze, then guide her towards the two remaining chairs, keeping her in my arms like I promised.

When we reach the table, I pull out a chair, but before either of us can sit down, Prescott slides into the chair next to it. A triumphant smirk appears on his lips as he slings his arm over the back and gloats at me.

“Looks like there is only one seat left at the table, Cassandra,” he says, patting his thigh.

I growl, and my fingers dig into Cassandra’s hip, my other hand curling into a fist. I tense, ready to lunge for him, but her hand returns to my torso, playing with the undone buttons of my shirt and undoing another. She slides her palm up my chest to my shoulder, and my growl morphs into a withheld groan at the sensuous touch. “How convenient, since I won’t be leaving Nolan’s arms tonight, anyway.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, I claim her lips with mine, my hands sliding all over the velvet bodice of her dress. I kick the chair further back from the table and sit in it, tugging Cassandra down onto my lap, my arm completely encircling her waist.

Prescott’s gloating expression switches to that of a petulant child not getting their way. He glares at us as the servers place cheesecake slices on the table, but neither of us care. Cassandra drapes her arm around my neck, still tracing my chest and jaw with her free hand, and I gaze at her heatedly.

Damn this ball. All I want is to be alone with her. My ring on her finger isn’t enough of a claim to calm my possessiveness and my anxiety.

But that will have to wait. I have a job to do here. Chaperoning our unmated pack members and protecting Haven.

I’m just glad I have Cassandra by my side, helping me.

The others eat their dessert, all semblance of making nice gone. No one speaks, our atmosphere of camaraderie broken by Prescott’s intrusion.

“No mates for you two, either?” Prescott says to Benjamin and Oliver, finally forcing the silence to end.

Oliver shakes his head, stabbing his cheesecake. “Nope.”

“That’s a shame.” Prescott sighs and shoves his empty plate away from him, tossing his fork and napkin on it as he scans the crowd. “And all the remaining, unmated females here tonight are… lacking.” Benjamin clears his throat and Haven rolls her eyes. Prescott snaps his fingers and turns his focus to Wesley, pointing at him. “Don’t you have a sister?”

Angry growls rumble from around the table, and Benjamin says, “She’s not twenty-one yet.”

“And even if she was, you don’t deserve to scrape dog shit from the bottom of her shoe,” Oliver adds.

“Excuse me?” Prescott rises to his feet, pressing his fingertips to the tabletop.

Oliver scoffs. “You heard me.”

“This is my hotel,” Prescott continues, and I swear he stomps his foot like a spoiled toddler. “I will not take kindly to threats from a third-born lycan.” He shifts his attention to Ben. “Alpha Benjamin. Remind your brother who his betters are.”

Benjamin leans back in his seat and crosses his arms, his fists clenched, ignoring Prescott’s demands, his jaw twitching.

“I think you have overstayed your welcome at our table,” Haven says.

Prescott whips his head towards her. “This is my hotel!” he repeats, as if that makes an ounce of difference or excuses his elitism.

Haven stands and curls her fist into the white tablecloth. “And there are four pissed off lycans, one possessive werewolf whose mate you have hit on far too many times, and one moody pregnant luna who is fed up with your bullshit all sitting at this table. Trust me, none of us have a problem causing a scene at your hotel and letting you know who your betters are.”

Wesley covers her clenched fist with his hand, giving it a slight squeeze. I pinch my lips together to hold in my laughter at the look on Prescott’s face, and Cassandra’s eyes swirl with starlight as she absorbs Haven’s aura pouring from her as a result of her speech.

“I suggest you take your leave of us,” Haven says, looking down her nose at him even though he’s taller than her.

Prescott fumes, his nostrils flaring. He looks to Ben again for help, but Benjamin only glares back, arms still crossed and body taut with anger. Prescott shakes his head and shoves his chair away, knocking it over as he storms off.

“That won’t be the last we hear from him,” Benjamin says once Prescott’s out of earshot.

Haven shrugs. “No, but it got rid of him for the time being.” She blows out a breath and her anger melts away, replaced by a smile. “Now, who wants to dance?”

She doesn’t wait for anyone to answer. She walks to the dance floor, and Wesley chases after her, grasping her hand and spinning her into him before twirling her into a sweeping dance, almost in time with the waltz played by the live orchestra.

Apparently, he not only can’t sing, but he also has no rhythm.

The four of us remaining at the table laugh, our tension from the confrontation with Prescott easing. Cassandra leans back against me, wrapping her other arm around me, and I nudge her with my nose. “Dance with me?”

She nods immediately, practically jumping from my lap. I take her hand, and like Wes, I spin her into me when we reach the floor. But instead of attempting a fancy grand waltz, I wrap my arm tightly around her waist, embracing her and lining all her soft, subtle curves up with my hard muscles. She rests her head on my shoulder, and we sway and swirl around in a circle. I hum along to the music, enjoying the contentment of having my mate in my arms.

She eases away all the anxiety. Every last nerve dissipates into wisps of smoke.

The night continues in much the same fashion—Cassandra in my arms on the dance floor. At some point, I remove my jacket and roll my sleeves up, but I never leave her side. The music switches from grand orchestral pieces to DJ’d playlists of chart toppers and back again, and we switch our dance styles to match. Her smiles and laughter spread joy and tranquility to me and my wolf, and I find myself smiling more than usual as we keep time to the various beats.

As it has all evening, the music switches, the orchestra playing an instrumental version of some pop song I can’t quite place. I draw a slightly sweaty Cassandra into my arms again, slow-dancing with her in the center of the ballroom, surrounded by both newly mated couples and couples who are well-established.

While we dance, Cassandra glances around the room, her eyes lingering on the wall behind me. When she meets my eyes again, it’s with a soft, almost sad smile on her face. “It’s past midnight,” she says, her throat tightening.

I cock my head to the side and glance at the wall behind me as well, where a large clock hangs above a set of double doors. “So it is.”

Water lines her eyelids, and her lips tremble, but she pinches them together. Her eyes flit around the room, the liquid in them rising but not falling down her cheeks. She breathes in and out in slow, labored breaths, studiously avoiding my gaze.

“What is it?” I ask, bending down and leaning in, trying to capture her attention. She pushes away from me, but I hold her in place, cupping her cheeks, forcing her eyes to meet mine. Brutal, piercing agony fills them, as well as hopelessness and sorrow. “Cassandra?”

“It’s my birthday,” she says in the tiniest, most broken voice I’ve ever heard her use as one lone tear streaks down her face. “I’m twenty-one.”