Morgana had once been reamed out by a customer complaining that she recommended the service of a psychic. The owner of the store and now my older advisor simply pointed to the sign and walked away.
I loved her calm.
“The pack is desperate, looking for someone to replace me. Dating all kinds of omegas at the same time.
She sucked her teeth and shook her head. “Men are always desperate for something out of reach. It’s like they love punishment, especially inflicted on themselves. And those poor omegas, thinking they’ve really caught themselves a pack of winners.”
I did feel awful for those women. Not awful enough to run back there but yucky.
Didn’t they believe in fated mates? In scent matches? In anything other than wealth and status and connections?
To be fair, I didn’t believe in those things either. Maybe a small part of me but the Vex pack ruined all of that.
“At least they’re not on my trail or even looking.”
Morgana patted my shoulder. “Their loss. And your gain. Why don’t we close up shop? I’m tired and there’s gardening to do.”
“Gardening?” I checked my watch. “It’s almost ten.”
She winked at me, and I felt myself smile. She wore some glittery eyeshadow tonight. Always full of surprises. “Gardening, dear. The kind that makes you feel good and forget and eat lots of snacks afterward.”
Oh.
Oh.
“Good a reason as any. I’ll lock up.”
Chapter Two
Carter
Our simple home at the edge of town was a far cry from the mansion where my parents reared my siblings and me. Royalty among a pack with assets beyond those of any others in the region could expect no less. Each young would be assigned to be part of a pack within a pack, the basis for a reverse harem.
Not naturally drawn to one another as the males who would share a scent-match female but selected by those in charge to suit their own goals. We were matched so early, I didn’t even know that wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Basically, we were a “play group” at age four or five, always encouraged to be together and not told any more than that until middle school. Even then, it was presented as us having a new friend down the line. Our best friend.
We didn’t think much of it at that time, since it wasn’t going to happen for several years, but we did speak about it among ourselves when we saw other packs come together. Older siblings and cousins who reached their majority and were matched with females selected for them. Mostly they seemed okay with it, doing their duty and forming the packs as required. But it never felt right, and as we grew up, our friendship grew strained.
The other males who I’d been bound to were not those I’d have naturally gravitated toward. A fact that became clearer with each passing year. Our interests varied, and we rarely had long conversations together. As little boys, we ran around together along with all the others, but as young adults, we really didn’t have any interest in speaking with one another. Yet, the adults subtly pushed us together. They probably always had, but we didn’t know how serious it was. And, as teens, we were notallowed to sow any wild oats as most of the young alphas did. Saving ourselves for the elite female at the request of her family.
On our majority, we received access to our trust fund and a promise of a mate within the week. The ceremony would be a big one because the female involved came from a pack whose influence ours had been courting for decades. And all the “best friend” crap was out the window. Nobody even tried to convince us that we were going to be the buddy squad anymore. We were moved into a home of our own, almost but not quite as large as the one I’d grown up in, and were told to prepare for the ceremony. We were honored to be chosen for this role within the pack, and we should appreciate it.
I stood outside our new house the next evening, needing a breath of fresh air. My pack, the other two males, were loudly discussing what they would do once the female was under our roof. Despite our differences, until we’d been moved in together, I’d thought it would be fine. We’d continue to spend time together, more in fact, and have a female of importance to care for. But each day, as I sat with them over morning coffee or lounged in the yard after our work for the pack—which was not much—I grew more irritated at their chatter. The female would be beautiful and sensual. We’d be having all the sex denied us and the increased status as well. Or at least for the other two. Mine was already quite high.
As I stood there, feeling more tense by the moment and wondering if there was any possible way to delay until I was ready, a long black car crunched over the gravel drive and came to a stop in front of the home where the female would be staying until the mating. As I watched, the driver came around and opened the back door. My throat swelled nearly closed, waiting to see who would emerge.
A male in a black suit climbed out first and reached a hand back in. Only a couple of dozen yards away, I leaned over the porch railing. It would be her. Our mate. It had to be.
Would she be beautiful, as the others in my pack believed? Glad to be with us? The person who could tie us together?
The delicate hand that took the man’s clutched tight, and when her face appeared, it held such raw fear, my blood chilled in my veins.
And that was when I looked around and knew I couldn’t do it. So I went back inside, packed a duffel bag, and walked away.
My former packmates could work out the female situation if the other pack didn’t take back their offer with me insulting them so much by moving out. I couldn’t contribute to the system, but I couldn’t save her either. Myself, I wanted to do something to help others, so I went to school to be a firefighter, and about the time I launched my career, I met my friends. My new, chosen pack.
We built our own home and prepared for the day when our scent-matched female would join us. She would not look terrified when she saw us but welcoming. I had to trust that would happen. Or it would all be for nothing.
Chapter Three
