by Sara Snow
“So,” I drawled, wanting the silence to come to an end. “If you’re not the firstborn for your pack, who is?”
His eyes scanned the crowd, and he bent forward somewhat as he pointed. “The one with a bald head and gray eyes like mine. That’s my brother, Seff.”
It was easy to spot Seff—he definitely stood out. However, what I found interesting was just how different the two men—Seff and Mathew—looked, apart from their eyes. Mathew was taller, with a slim body and outgoing appearance, while Seff was bulky with a scar across the bridge of his nose.
“Hmm, he looks friendly,” I teased with a chuckle.
Mathew laughed. “He’s not, but he’s a good man,” he answered. Then he exhaled. “You’re not enjoying this gathering, are you, Elinor?”
“Is it really that obvious?” I asked him.
He tilted his head to the side, a thoughtful look on his face. “Maybe just a little,” he finally answered. “But one might also think you’re just not the talkative type. I saw the way your eyes smiled when you first arrived and didn’t have a wolf rushing forward to claim you. I’ve seen that look before.”
“You’ve met another female firstborn?” I turned to face him, intrigued to know more about this girl.
“Her name was Kaitlin, and no, she wasn’t a firstborn. But her father had a gathering, much smaller than this, for her to find her mate. She didn’t, and she wore the same look of relief on her face that you did.”
It seemed I was not the only she-wolf who had a problem with the way things were. At the same time, she may have had entirely different reasons for why she didn't want to find her mate—like secretly having a boyfriend.
Thank the Goddess I don’t have that problem.
Regardless, I was glad to know I wasn’t alone in my indignation. “Is it so bad that I want to be more than just a Luna?”
He didn’t say anything, so I looked at him. His eyes were surveying the room as if looking for someone.
Then he turned back to me. "I don't think it is. Unlike my brother, I'm eager to meet my mate. But I'd never want her to give up her dreams because of me. I'm happy I’m not in my brother's position. He has to keep up an image of power, and his Luna will have to, as well." He glanced at me. "The sad truth is, the mate bond changes everything. The person means so much to you that losing them can cost you your own life.”
“It’s scary if you think about it. But I don’t mind the mate-bond as much as I’m afraid I’ll never be able to escape my family expectations that I’ll become a Luna.” I didn't feel weird admitting my fear to a stranger. There was just something about Mathew, a sense of calm that flowed from him, that made me comfortable enough to speak. I had sensed it the first moment we met.
However, I had forgotten that others might be listening.
"Why don’t you want to be a Luna?" a man suddenly asked, coming over to Mathew and me. He wasn’t a member from a pack I was familiar with, his salt and pepper hair cut so short, he was almost bald. “Being a Luna, a pack’s mother, is an honor.” He glanced at Mathew and then returned his attention to me. “The Blackmoon Pack is one of the most respected packs around. Whether you’re a firstborn and female or not, you still hold a lot of power within you. Being the Luna for another pack won't lessen your strength or worth. Because of you, another pack will be strengthened. You're not a prize, Elinor Blackwood. You’re a gift. The power you hold is needed, now more than ever. Times are changing.”
I hadn’t blinked the entire time he was speaking. I’d never doubted the Blackmoon Pack’s stature among our kind. His words rang with truth in a way that even I could not challenge. I was reasonably confident that what he’d just said in a few minutes was what my father has been trying to tell me all my life.
I tilted my head, the same unsettling sensation I had felt when I’d seen that witch in the market not long ago, crawling under my skin. “I’m sorry. What do you mean ‘now more than ever’?”
“Attention, everyone!” My father's booming voice echoed through the room, and all eyes turned to him. Silence quickly followed his request. "Now, you all know a gathering like this is nothing without a duel." Loud shouts erupted among the men, but by my side, Mathew was quiet. "I call on my best fighter, appointed leader of the Werewolf Guards for the Blackmoon Pack, Darian Grimmwolf!”
Cheering filled the room from those belonging to my pack as Darian made his way through the crowd to stand at my father’s side. My father placed his hand on Darian’s shoulder and nodded once. Darian did the same.
I crossed my arms over my chest. No, I didn’t like Darian, and yes, it was for the singular and petty reason that he was the Werewolf Guard leader. Each pack had a team of guards and a leader who governed them.
Darian, as you could imagine, was a skilled fighter. I watched as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, his brown skin glistening in the lamplight. His curly raven-black hair was short at the sides while the top was long and in dreads down his back. His hazel eyes darted over the crowd before they landed on me. He smirked.
He also made it a point to mess with me every time he saw me, letting me know in every way possible that I didn’t belong in the Werewolf Guard.
“Now, who will challenge him?” my father roared. “You?” He pointed to a man. “Or you?” He pointed to another.
I turned away to head to the door. I didn’t need to see this.
“Not interested in watching the duel?” Mathew said. I narrowed my eyes at the grin on his face. “Girls usually aren’t.”
And here I thought he had the potential to become a friend.
"If you must know, I'm going to clean up before the fun starts." I turned and moved to walk away. "And for the record, I'm not like other girls, Mathew."
“I’ve noticed,” he said with a flirtatious smile as I walked away.
The truth was, watching this duel—a friendly but sometimes bloody fight between wolves—was going to leave me on edge. I hadn’t watched a duel in a long time, just for that reason. I knew that sometimes pack members would randomly duel each other as a way of testing out their skills or just for fun. Unfortunately, I had a lot of trouble standing on the sidelines. I didn’t want to watch—I wanted to fight. I wanted to feel that rush I had experienced when I chased that satyr through the market. The yearning was so strong, it was almost painful.
For tonight, I’d just be content that tomorrow, I didn’t have to say goodbye to everyone I loved as I was dragged to my mate’s pack. I’d focus on that for now.
8
Elinor
Darian won his fight against a second-born from another pack within five minutes. He then took on another wolf and then another until he was finally beaten by a firstborn.
After the duel, everyone ventured outside to the lamp-lit forest. Having decided to try to make the most of the rest of the party, I stood to the side next to my mother and brother as more wolves challenged each other to fights. I found myself laughing and cheering—the energy and happiness being shared by everyone were contagious.
Beside me, Jackson was having the time of his life watching the fights, calling out whatever he thought a particular wolf should do to win.
“Why can’t it always be like this?”
“Maybe one day, it will be,” someone voiced behind me.
I realized I had spoken out loud. “Oh, hi, Mathew,” I said as he walked forward to stand beside me. I turned to my mother, who was staring at Mathew with curious eyes. “Mother, this is Mathew. He’s Alpha Vincent’s son, from the Silver Pride Pack.”
"It's an honor to meet you, Luna Clarice." He placed his fist over his heart and bowed to her.
“Likewise, Mathew,” she replied. “Jackson, say hello.”
Jackson glanced at Mathew. “Hello, Mathew,” he said dutifully, then quickly turned his attention back to the dueling wolves. The wolves had transformed into their final forms.
Werewolves' bodies could change from our first form—that of a large wolf—to our final form—that
of a man and wolf fusion. Our front paws returned to arms, and we stood upright. Not all wolves could achieve this form or hold it for long because it was overly straining on our minds. The primal needs of our wolf moved to the forefront of our minds, right by our conscious human thoughts, so focusing could be difficult.
My mother shook her head at Jackson’s lack of interest in anything other than the fight.
“Anyway,” I drawled as I smiled wide at Mathew. “Aren’t you going to challenge anyone?”
He moved his mouth from side to side. “I might.”
A thundering thud echoed around us as one wolf grabbed the other around his waist and slammed him to the ground.
“Winner!” my father yelled.
The wolf who’d won howled.
But I only had eyes for my father—he looked so different when he smiled. There were fine wrinkles beside his eyes, and his cheeks were red from yelling. “Who is next?”
Mathew stepped forward. “I’m next.”
“Good! You’re Mathew from the Silver Pride Pack, right?”
Mathew nodded. “I am,” he said, looking towards his father and brother, as well as the other wolves that had come with him. “I challenge Elinor Blackwood, firstborn of the Blackmoon Pack! I’d like to see what Lady Blackwood is capable of.”
While everyone was knocked speechless at Mathew’s forwardness, I instantly grew excited—nervous, but excited. I glanced quickly at my father, whose face no longer looked cheerful. His fiery eyes met mine and his jaws clenched.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” he answered tersely.
My heart sank.
Then, the man who had interrupted my conversation with Mathew earlier stepped forward. “I think she should be allowed to fight. She’s a firstborn, after all, and the reason we’re all here.” The man turned to face me. “Let her show us her strength.”
Mumbles of the agreement began to echo through the crowd. Finally, the frown on my father's face relaxed. He’d obviously realized he had no choice. "It is up to her," he affirmed, looking my way. "What say you, Elinor? Do you accept Mathew’s challenge?”
“I do,” I answered without hesitation. “I need a moment to shift.”
I turned to venture further into the forest, where there were no torches. On my way, I saw Skye wink at me. She knew better than anyone what this meant to me. My stomach was clenching with excitement as I removed my dress and closed my eyes, calling on my wolf.
A few minutes later, now in wolf form, I bounded, then ran slowly back to where everyone was. As I stepped out of the darkness, I heard Skye’s voice cheering, mixed with calls of encouragement from the rest of my pack. Mixed with those cheers were shocked gasps from other packs. Obviously, my white fur had once again caused a stir.
I stepped into the circle that had been created for the fights and eyed Mathew’s wolf. His paws and back were a dark brown and his sides, light brown.
I remained still as his black eyes scanned me. I growled to show him he was wasting time gawking at me, and his head dipped as he growled back. He padded to the right slowly, his head still down. Yet his keen eyes were trained on me, registering my every move. No one made a sound. Only the fire crackling on the torches and the indrawn breaths of anticipation could be heard.
I blocked out everyone and everything as I focused solely on Mathew. Still, he managed to catch me off guard. He made a swift move to the left, and I moved to the right in reaction, but that was what he’d wanted. He rushed at me to the right, his growls and mine mingling together as we collided.
I instantly grasped that he wasn’t holding back—his bites were at full force. I had to move quickly to avoid him latching onto my neck. While fighting, werewolves would always go for the throat to deliver a swift death or to trap their prey. He was not holding back, though. In reality, I preferred it that way.
Our growls and snarls filled the silent night sky, and I yelped as he swiped a massive paw at my leg and slashed me with his claws. My jaw snapped at the side of his face, but he backed away at that very moment. I had to admit, I was surprised at how fast he was, but as our fight continued, I realized that he was only fighting hard enough to land a few wounds, then he’d pull back.
Someone chuckled, and I lost focus for a moment when I turned to see the old man who had insisted on me fighting shaking his head at me. The look in his eyes, as if he was disappointed in my performance, caused rage to bubble up inside me. The moment of distraction cost me. I had taken my eyes off Mathew for too long, and I loudly yelped as I felt his sharp teeth sink into my left hind leg.
I bent around to bite him, my teeth grazing his snout, and he pulled away. I rushed at him but whimpered as pain shot up my leg.
I was a fool to have thought Mathew was kind for dueling me. Instead, here he was, making a fool out of me. I didn’t bother to look for my father. I didn’t want to see the look on his face. Instead, I kept my eyes on Mathew as his pack erupted in cheers.
I stopped moving, my breathing labored. Mathew’s tongue flicked out as he licked my blood from his teeth, and I watched as he began to shift into his final form—a towering body of fur, muscle, and power.
This was the form that drove fear into our enemies. In our final form, the human side of us and the wolf battled for dominance. In this form, a wolf could become an almost unstoppable force.
I bowed my head as my bones started to break. Despite his head start, I shifted quickly enough to finish transforming before he did. Changing into my final form was always fast for me—it was as if it was my natural state. Given the way his eyes had widened momentarily, I could tell he hadn’t expected me to be able to shift to final form, much less shift more quickly than he could.
Yeah, bet he did not see that coming!
I’d heard this form was hard to hold for others, but not for me. A month after I first shifted when I was a child, I’d started training myself to change into my final form in secret. It was very difficult. My mother never allowed me to try it until I got older, but I was glad I had in secret. From the whispers that erupted around us, I knew I had surprised more than just Mathew by being able to shift so quickly.
I’d be damned if I allowed Mathew to make a fool out of me.
I remained still, my long hairy arms limp at my side, and Mathew tilted his head, no doubt confused as to why I wasn't moving. But I was waiting . . . waiting for him to make a move. . . . And when he did, I planted my feet into the earth.
The moment he reached out to grab me, his clawed hands just inches away from my face, I bent down, grabbed him around the waist, and lifted him off the ground. We began falling backward, and I slammed his body to the ground, then rolled to the side.
I stood up slowly, my pack now cheering loudly, and Mathew shook his head and stood up. He bared his teeth, then rushed at me again. But I followed his eyes to see his next move.
Without warning, I rushed forward, meeting him head-on. I could tell he had expected me to remain still. Forced to recalculate his attack, he faltered. I grabbed his throat, then, stepping behind him, I sank my claws into his back. Simultaneously, my right hand tightened around his windpipe.
He reached out to grab for something, but I howled loudly, my body shaking before I bit down on his neck. One of his legs gave out, and I shook my head wildly, my teeth grazing bone before I released him, letting him fall to the ground.
Holding his neck, he flipped onto his back, his blood soaking the forest floor. I stepped forward.
“That’s enough!” I heard Alpha Vincent yell, and I turned to him, my mind cloudy with an intense need to dominate.
My head fell back as I howled to the sky, the sound long and thundering, no doubt heard for miles around. All werewolves release a chemical that causes other werewolves to submit, but it was stronger with Alphas because it was meant to control their pack.
My skin warmed as that chemical bloomed within me. But it could be painful for wolves of lesser strength. I stopped howling abruptly when soft whimpers
met my ears. I held my head high, staring Alpha Vincent dead in the eye and then turning to my father.
His eyes were wide with shock.
A few wolves had their heads bowed while others seemed to be straining to hold themselves back from doing so—a few firstborn males to be exact.
I turned to Mathew, who was still on the ground, and held my hand out for him to take. He did so, and I pulled him up, the wound on his neck already slowly healing.
“Elinor!”
Skye's cry of jubilation echoed through the crowd, and soon many were chanting my name. An unbelievable feeling I had no description for filled me. And to my surprise, when I looked at my father, I found him smiling proudly.
Elinor
After most of the wolves retired for the night, I could finally enjoy some peace and quiet. The evening had turned out better than I had expected. I was relieved I hadn’t found my mate, and I was even more pleased about the fight I’d had with Mathew. It was as if a door had unlocked within me—one I hadn’t even known was there.
I’d never had to use that much dominance before. I hadn’t even known I’d had it in me.
Sitting by the window in my room, I watched as an owl flew over the house, its loud screech ringing in my ear as I thought about the night’s events. Mathew was okay. His wounds were treated after our fight—he’d already started to heal before the battle was over. But something he’d said still bothered me.
“It took you long enough to react,” he had whispered to me.
“What?”
He’d only shaken his head and laughed. "It took you long enough to show your true strength. You were holding back without knowing it."
“So you taunted me on purpose, to get me angry?”
He’d nodded but explained no more as his father had approached us.
“Elinor, you fought well," Alpha Vincent noted. He placed his hand over his heart and bowed, surprising me.