I comb through my long hair, letting it hang down my back. Working against the clock, I throw on a pair of dark jeans, leather boots, a white t-shirt, and a black jacket. He said to wear something expensive, but this event can be called a high class cook out at best.

Technically, it's a bonding ceremony, which is the equivalent of a wedding to humans except without all of the elegance, fancy clothes, and decor.

Just like Nathan said, I find him waiting for me in the living room of the pack house. He stops his pacing in order to look me over from head to toe.

"How much did that cost?"

"Enough," I answer as I walk past him.

"Is it designer?" He asks, coming up beside me.

"It is for tonight."

He makes a disapproving grunt. "We'll go shopping later. You look good though."

I stop dead in my tracks, stiffening.

Did he... Did he just compliment me?

He offers me his arm, as if nothing out of ordinary had just happened. "Wouldn't wanna be late."

I wipe the petrification off my face and force myself to take the arm he's offering. It's an internal fight to keep myself from pulling away from him. Something about having any sort of contact with him seems wrong and stomach-churningly unappealing.

When we walk up to the open forested area that the party is set up in, everyone's eyes turn on us. The urge to shrink down and out of their sight is crippling, but there's nowhere to go. Plus I have too much pride to even attempt to hide against Nathan's side. Public shame can only go so far and that would be on an entirely new level.

There's no doubt in my mind that this is the latest gossip of the pack. The oh so beloved Nathan Swelter- soon to be Alpha of the Visari pack- is claiming a mate who isn't his.

He leads us past a towering bonfire whose flames reach high into the dark sky and to a long table set on a wooden platform which acts as a makeshift stage. There are four seats at the table, all at one side so that the occupants would all face the crowd.

Alpha Andre and his Luna, Nathan's mother, sit together at one end. I break away from Nathan and go past them, planting myself at the furthest end, as far away from them as I can be. To my misfortune, Nathan sits down next to me, far closer than I'd prefer.

No more than half a minute passes before he places his hand on my knee and starts tugging at my leg. I shoot him a burning glare so heated that he should burst into flames on the spot.

"Seriously?!" I snap, keeping it at a whisper.

He growls lowly, leaning closer. "You're mine now. Show it."

I clench my canines together so hard that my jaw aches. I roll my eyes and huff before throwing away my dignity and following his orders, lifting my legs so that they're in his lap.

It's a Visarian display of ownership. While sitting, the female would position herself so that the back of her thighs touch the top of the male's, though her butt stays in her own seat. In intimate cases, only between true mates, the male would wrap his arm around the female, her head resting on his shoulder.

However, that's not the case for us.

I put my thighs on top of his, but other than that, I keep as much distance as possible. It wouldn't be hard for someone to figure out that we're not mates. The stiff body language, the tense and mechanical movements, and not to mention my obvious disgruntlement; it's enough to make any spectator cringe with second hand embarrassment.

And of course, there's plenty of them to do so. Practically the entire pack is staring at us from below, unblinking. Despite the cold winter air, my face is on fire.

"Act natural," Nathan scolds in my ear.

"Maybe if I weren't being blackmailed I could," I hiss back.

Alpha Andre stands up, clearing his throat and sending us both a scolding look. He then slaps on a pleasant smile and faces forward to address the pack.

"Wolves of Visari, may I introduce to you to your soon to be Alpha and Luna," he announces, making a grand gesture towards us.

His speech goes on after that. Most of it, if not all of it, is him rambling on about Nathan's childhood and his meager yet exaggerated achievements.

Not a single thing is said about me. It's almost like he completely forgot that I could've been considered his daughter at one point. I'm not surprised though.

Nearly half an hour of empty words and transparent compliments later, he concludes his speech with something along the lines of "may he reign long and prosper with this pack."

Applause bursts from the crowd when Alpha Andre sits back down. Although I tuned out the majority of his speech, I highly doubt the applause is sincere.

When the clapping starts to fade, a single hand in the middle of the sea of people pops up.

"Nathan and Adrienne aren't mates. What happens when she finds her mate? Will Nathan then find a new Luna?"

I perk up upon hearing my name. But Nathan opens his mouth first.

"There will be no other Luna," he answers. My brow furrows when I realize his tone is almost... defensive? Who knew he was such a good actor.

He continues, and slowly the defensiveness dissipates into professionalism. "I chose Adrienne. The ceremony will bind us. And if her mate has a problem with it, he can either get over it or take it up with me."

I shiver. There's something about talking about my hypothetical mate that seems unnatural. Wrong even, and I don't like it.

There were no more questions after that. I was beyond thankful. The sooner this torture is over, the better.

Pack members begin passing out the food, giving me the dreadful cue to talk to the Alpha's asshole-ish offspring.

"When did you turn into plastic?" I ask him.

He looks at me, confused. "What?"

"You're fake, Nathan. Just like your little declaration of caring about me."

His gaze hardens and his jaw tightens, like I've hit a nerve. That's good though. Because I'd sever it if I could.

"I'd watch your fucking attitude if I were you," he warns dismissively.

I glance down at his palm resting right above my neck, then back up to him. "And I'd watch your hand if I were you," I growl, my teeth turning to canines.

Various dishes are sat down in front of me, all of them fresh and steaming. But none of them are bribing enough to make me stay.

"Where are you going?" Nathan asks as I abruptly stand up, having not even touched my a single morsel of food.

I mumble a bitter retort, one I'm sure he can hear, "For a walk, get off my back."

I don't look back, not even after hearing the rattling of silverware when a palm slams down on the table. Growling follows, low and provoked.

I guess now we both know what it's like to be inconvenienced by someone else.

"Let her go," Alpha Andre orders. I can just imagine him grabbing his son's wrist and pulling him back down before he can even get up. He's controlling like that. Except this time, I'm thankful for it.

• • •

Darkness hangs heavy in the sky, though the dim moonlit makes the snow on the ground sparkle. Pointy and crooked shadows are cast down from the limbs of the trees above.

My hands are burrowed into my coat pockets as I trudge along one of the many paths that are well burned into my memory.

I had stormed off and away from the party. I wanted- want- away from all of them. As I come to a high point in the mountain trail, I catch sight of the bonfire far below. Like a giant burning ember among the grey, bleak landscape.

Suddenly my stomach drops.

I temporarily forget all of my woes of dread as I remember what Aimee had said to me.

"Don't go off into the woods by yourself. Stay near the pack."

As if to go with my immense feeling of regret, my skin prickles with apprehension. Goosebumps pop up all over my arms, along with the hairs on the back of my neck rising.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit! Aimee would kill me if she knew I didn't listen. That is if this notorious lurking beast doesn't do it first.

I tense up, suddenly getting the feeling that I'm being watched. Though I know it's only a simple symptom of paranoia. Right?

I shake my head, laughing at myself. I'm acting as ridiculous as Mya and her group of floozies.

Either way, I turn and start back down the same path I came. The snow crunches loudly under my feet, almost like static in my ears that's loud enough to drown out everything else.

As I go back down the path, my mind goes back to reality. Dread settles in my stomach at the thought of going back to that asswipe whom his mother mistook for a person and named Nathan.

• • •

When I slip back into the vicinity of the party, I can't help but to notice the tense atmosphere of the people and their constant whispering. Or how their eyes are wide and flickering around as they talk to one another.

"It's true then? They really ran him out?" I overhear a hushed voice ask as I stop at the refreshments table.

Out of the corner of my eye, a tanned skinned girl, who I know as Trisha, bobs her head of curls with a nod. "They exiled him," she says quickly, "I didn't think they'd ever do it. Not after 3 years, especially."

What the hell is it with everyone whispering about this lately? What did Aimee say... the Exiled Alpha?

I busy myself to look casual, pouring a drink I don't even want.

"He's probably already looking for another pack to take over. Oh god, Trish, what if he's out there somewhere in the woods right now?! What if he smells the bonfire and-"

"Sophia, calm down," Trisha stops the other girl's increasingly hysterical rambling. "Just... Just don't think about it."

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right," She agrees, although her voice is quivering. "Hey. Hey, are you eavesdropping on us?!"

I look up to find a pale redhead staring accusingly at me, assumedly Sophia. I can't help but to notice the vibrant hot pink jacket she's wearing, along with a matching headband.

"I know it doesn't take that long to fill a cup," she continues, her eyes shooting daggers at me. Trisha, on the other hand, smiles apologetically, as if this sort of thing happens often.

I glance over at her before turning back to the table and picking up my drink. "You better keep your voice down. He might hear you," I mock as I start back towards my seat.

I have no idea who "he" is, but if it spites her, then so be it.

What happens next is nothing but a blur. While going back to my seat, I feel watched yet again. I look up to find Nathan's wide eyes staring at me. He stands up, his mouth agape and the color drained from his face. In the same instance that he points behind me, a bloodcurdling roar shakes the ground, followed by high-pitched screams.

I whirl around, coming face to face with Sophia, her arm raised in the air with something grasped in her hand. But that isn't what catches my attention.

Behind her, leaping out of the shadowy depths of the forest, is a monster beyond imaginable. An enormous, wolffish creature with glowing ruby red eyes. Even in midair it looks ten times the size of a normal wolf, and ten times as terrifying.

I don't even get the chance to panic or even so much as scream. The last thing I can process is a rock solid object crashing into my temple, erupting my skull in pain. Simultaneously, my vision plunges into blackness. Like somebody turned out the lights.

The last thing I saw was that beast coming straight towards me.

My eyelids flicker open, just barely enough to recognize the blurred blues, blacks, and whites of the night forest. I immediately notice the burning, sharp pain that's lighting my neck on fire with discomfort. Like there's canines sinking into my flesh and winning a tug-of-war match with gravity.

I'm... being carried? Like a fucking wolf pup?

Cold wind blows against my face, cutting right through my clothes and causing me to shiver.

Blindly I reach my hand out, trying to feel for anything at all. Warm fur tickles my palm, sending a jolt of electricity through my chest.

I remember what I saw. A giant wolf leaping out of the woods, roaring louder than any monster ever could.

A sort of drugged, calm fear comes over me. I don't want to face this thing, whatever the hell it is.

So I close my eyes and let the safety of the darkness seep back in.

• • •

I wake up to a pounding ache in the left side of my skull, right above my temple. My eyes open, which makes the pounding worse. Out of instinct, my hand reaches up to the source of the pain. Instead of oozing blood like I'd expected, I'm surprised to feel the soft gauze of a bandage wrapped securely around my head.

I roll my head to the side to take in my surroundings. Through the trees, in the distance, a bright orange flicker stands out against the night.

The bonfire. I can barely see it through the trees. How did I get out here so far?

Sitting up, I close eyes close tightly as I wait for the spinning to stop and the nausea to pass. When I finally open them again, my heart stalls.

Staring straight at me is a complete stranger. Though strange is far from the word I'd use to describe him.

As soon as my eyes lock with his, all of my senses immediately pulse in unison, shaking me to my core. All my attention is on him and only him. His smell, his looks, and even the pleasant rhythm of his heart in my hyperactive hearing. Or maybe that's just mine beating violently out of my chest.

He's sitting cross legged on the forest floor, leaning forward as if to get a closer look at me. His eyes are a pure obsidian color, and they hold an uncanny resemblance to the glowing red ones I vaguely remember. His messy hair is a brownish copper, which matches the thin layer of clean cut stubble on his perfect jawline.

Even with the small bit of distance between us, it's clear that his build is larger than an average person's. Not to mention three times as muscular.

I can't even try to think straight. He's attractive in a way no one person should be allowed to be.

His fingers flex in and out, the tendons in his wrists popping up along with some veins in his forearms. Judging from the raw power stored in that action alone, it would be ridiculously easy for him to take a life away.

Those hands look like they could bring death in a dozen different brutal ways- and I feel like they have. Yet for some reason, I yearn to reach out and touch them.

The pulsing sensation gets stronger, making my focus on him so heightened that everything else is dull.

My lips part slightly, but no words come out. Instead it gets stuck in the front of my mind, lingering at the tip of my tongue.

Mate.

I flinch at the word.

He makes a move to get up and I scramble backwards on my butt, fighting my every instinct to go forward.

My back meets the smooth trunk of a snow covered, fallen beech tree. It blocks me from going any further and I exhale heavily. Of course that's my luck.

He's coming slowly toward me, making my breath hitch. From a standing position his size looks impossibly larger, and impossibly like a force not to be reckoned with.

His nostrils flare as he sniffs the air. A low growl rumbles in his chest, getting louder as it travels up to his throat. "You smell like him," he says in disgust, pushing it out through gritted teeth.

Him? Does he mean Nathan?

But if that bothers him, then that makes two of us.

"And you smell like a wet dog," I retort without missing a beat. That was a lie. That was the biggest lie I've told in my entire life.

He smells good. Really good. Like an addictive, masculine cologne mixed with the natural scent of a pine forest. And the fact that that scent makes my stomach twist with nerves scares me.

His gaze burns into me, telling me I made a mistake. The lighting in his dark eyes seems to dance, like a black and grey fire burning in his irises. It's as though it signifies a battle of some kind... like he's fighting with his own inner wolf.

"What are you to him," he finally asks, the growl still in his voice.

"Why does it matter," I fire back. My wolf may already trust him, begging for his arms to encompass me, but I can't say the same.

He takes another step forward, hands clenching into fists. "Answer. The. Question."

I stay silent for what feels like centuries. Some part of me doesn't want to tell him the truth. Not only because it would be voicing my misfortune and misery, but also because I somehow feel like I've betrayed him.

"Where is everyone?" I ask instead, trying to change the subject.

His shoulders visibly tense, as if I've made him uncomfortable. For the first time, he breaks eye contact.

The way I see it, he doesn't have the right to be uncomfortable in this situation. I do.

He doesn't answer the question, which only makes my mind race faster. I happen to glance past him and a lump forms in my throat at what I see. The snow is disturbed and sprawled everywhere. Bright patches of red stain what was once sparkling white.

Among that, my eyes land on a piece of hot pink fabric laying in the middle of it. A headband.

I dare to venture further, looking even farther past.

A body is laid, sprawled and broken in the snow. I recognize the disheveled fiery red hair.

My blood runs cold.

"Did you...?" I don't need nor want to finish the sentence.

He follows my line of vision before answering with a simple, emotionless reply.

"Yes."

I swallow hard, feeling my hands start to shake. Goddamn it, why am I so nervous? If he wanted me dead he would've killed me while I was unconscious.

"W-Why...?"

"She hurt you."

As if on cue, my hand comes up to touch the bandage around my head. He cares if I'm hurt or not?

No response comes to mind for that. That girl didn't mean anything to me. She made snide comments about everything and walked over everyone. She was rude and a pain in the neck, but still... it doesn't seem believable.

But if Sophia is dead... who else went with her?

I hadn't even realized I was lost in thought, staring at the ground until the snap of a twig pulls me back to reality. My neck doesn't even have time to turn before I'm being scooped off the ground, pressed against a warm, solid body.

An electric sensation ignites wherever we touch, erupting my skin in a tingling, pleasant fire. It's like a chain reaction, making my heart start to pound again in my chest, along with my muscles relaxing instantly.

The logical part of my brain tells me I should be concerned about where he's taking me. But I can't focus on anything except his body against mine. My neck tilts to rest on his shoulder, the sensation lulling me into a state of tranquility.

Whether it's the possible concussion giving me hallucinations or not, I think I hear a faint, animalistic purr in response.

I close my eyelids, focusing on the smooth gait of his walk while being carried by arms that make me the equivalent of weightless.

It seems like minutes pass by before I open my eyes again. When I do, we're in the small village of my pack. I happen to look up, and in the second story window of one of the houses, half a dozen pairs of eyes are staring down at us.

Among them are Mya's. Her face is twisted with contempt, glaring hatred at me even through the glass. I can't be bothered to react this time.

I look around and notice that not a single person is outside. They're all in the windows, peaking out and watching us like hawks. It's almost as if they're scared of something.

What did they witness that I didn't? Besides Sophia's death...

I'm carried straight through the middle of the village, right to the grand cabin at the end; the one notoriously known as the Alpha's house. The stranger carrying me- my mate?- is unfazed. He continues on as if it's his territory. As if he has every right to be here.

He steps over the threshold of the front door, angling me carefully so that my feet don't hit the frame when we pass.

The entire pack just watched helplessly as a trespasser waltzed through our village, and stepped into the Alpha's house without a trace of hesitation.

What did he do to them?

The door clicks shut, plunging the room into darkness at the mercy of night.

But more importantly, my stomach knots as the stairs creak under the weight, what will he do to me?

My heartbeat pounds in my ears as the bedroom door clicks shut behind us. This stranger has an iron grip on me, not to mention an aggressiveness that could terrify anyone.

I want so badly to feel safe in my mate's arms- to let myself relax against his warm chest. But I can't. Anxiety only grips me tighter as he carries me towards the bed. The sheets rustle quietly as he sits me down on the edge and begins pulling off my jacket. My heartbeat pulses in my throat as the panic begins setting in.

Once the jacket is off he tosses it onto the floor, almost in a disgusted manner. He pauses for a minute after that, raising his nose as if to sniff the air. I take this opportunity to squirm further onto the bed, and further away from him. I hug myself tightly and pull my knees halfway to my chest. Suddenly the white T-shirt that I'm left with feels much too thin for comfort.

I swallow nervously, watching as he walks over to an attached room and turns the light on, revealing a bathroom. My skin prickles as I watch, the saliva cold in my mouth.

What's he going to do?

In one swift motion he raises his arms over his head, peeling off his shirt. My eyes feel ready to bug out of my head.

I did not sign up for this.

The light behind him illuminates his figure, creating a sublime, muscular silhouette made of rigid lines and defined curves. I can only faintly see the center of his outline, but it's enough to tell that his abdomen is no less apparent.

Striding towards me, his steps are slow and confident. He stops in front of the bed, looking down on me with intent, dark eyes. I lean back as he reaches forward, but I don't lean far enough. His fingers touch under my chin, igniting the area with a tingling feel as he gingerly pushes my jaw closed.

Heat rushes to my cheeks when I realize my mouth had been open. Was it that obvious?

My eyes flick to his uncertainly. What happens now? Because there's no way in hell that I'm letting these clothes leave my body.

"Wash his scent off," he orders, his voice like steel. There's no denying that it's a command, not a polite suggestion.

He then drops his T-shirt carelessly into my lap. His voice is cold as he instructs me. Begrudging even.

"Then put this on."

With that, he lets his gaze linger for a few seconds. Then, he turns and strides out of the room, closing the door behind him with a loud click to disrupt the nerve wracking silence.

I scrunch my face up in both discontent and confusion.

He wants Nathan's smell off of me. That's the only conclusion I can come to, and a likely one considering his earlier disgruntlement with the scent. Being treated as a doll to be dressed up is irritating. But in this case, I don't want Nathan's scent on me either.

Cautiously, I slide off the bed, watching the door like a hawk. I half expect him to burst through it at any minute, spewing more demands.

With shirt clenched tightly in my hand, I pad into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me and making a point to lock it.

Mate or not, my privacy is my own.

The searing water is uncomfortable, drumming against my back, between my shoulder blades. My skin is burning to the point that I think it may peel off.

I've always preferred the cold. And I'd never choose a hot shower over a moderately room temperature or even a slightly cold one. But I need to feel the pain. I need to have the distraction it provides. Almost like it's a pause button.

I fight to keep my mind off the situation at hand, along with the questions that go with it. Did this stranger- my mate whose name is a mystery- take over the pack? How many of my pack members did he kill? Am I still expected to marry Nathan?

I shake my head, pushing away the curiosity. Whatever happens, happens. It's not like I was allowed to control my life before. What's the difference now?

My focus turns back to my reddening body as I turn the water off and step out of the shower. I'm shaky as I put my clothes back on, my muscles lulled into a trance from the heat. Even more warmth pools in my stomach when I take a deep breath of the addictive scent clinging to this ominous stranger's shirt.

I'm not a petite person per se, but it's still oversized to the point where I might be able to get away with not wearing anything else. Nonetheless I slip my jeans back on anyway. There's a certain line drawn in my dignity that I'm not quite ready to cross yet. And walking around pantless with a shirt tail barely covering my ass would require crossing that line.

When I reenter the bedroom, my lovely and very congenially mate is nowhere to be found.

Is this my window for escape?

As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I ridicule myself for such a ridiculous idea. Running away from everything I know just to be killed on sight as a rogue? I'd rather not. Yet, at least.

I wander out of the bedroom- which has to be the guest one considering its lack of a scent- and down the stairs, right out the front door I was carried through. The stranger doesn't stop me, nor is there even any sign he was here.

Outside, the entire village still looks deserted and desolate. Everything is dark, with only the moon acting as a dim lamp of silver light. The snow crunches beneath my feet as I wander through the empty streets- which are really just worn out paths weaving between the cabins.

My nostrils flare when a certain hair raising smell reaches my nose. Immediately goosebumps rise over my arms as I slow to a stop in the middle of the village, smelling the air more intently now.

Blood.

No... It's more than just blood. It's carnage.

If that smell, combined with the dark, soulless streets, isn't enough to send someone over the edge, then having your every move watched is.

Just as before, when I look up, I find the curious, frightened eyes peering at me through the windows.

A growl escapes my throat.

I'm some kind of spectacle for them, and that fact piques me.

I stare right back, but whoever it is doesn't budge.

If they won't come out, then I guess that means I'll go in.

The heavy door of the pack house shutting behind me is louder than it should be. Usually I would avoid drawing too much attention to myself, but between Nathan's ceremonies and whatever the hell this can be called, I haven't been left much of a choice.

When I turn the corner going into the grand living room, I'm met with about a dozen pairs of those staring eyes, glaring at me through the dark hue and blue shadows of the room.

"You're wearing his shirt?" Mya's irritating, high pitched voice exclaims as she throws her arms out dramatically. She's standing in front of one of the large windows beside the couch. There's no doubt that she was peeking out of it just a moment before.

I'm not sure what she's trying to imply by her comment, but it runs right through me nonetheless.

"You're clothed at all?" I regurgitate her exaggerated shock right back to her. More often than not, she's usually showing more skin than she's covering. And it's far from being subtle, which is why I'm surprised to find her covered from head to toe in winter apparel.

I can sense the room grow impossibly tenser. Everyone silently watching shifts uncomfortably in their seats and standing positions, but some of them I can feel staring holes right through me.

Mya crosses her arms and sneers. "You're calling me a slut but you're the one who just went to bed with a FUCKING TYRANT!"

I freeze.

Tyrant?

Then it clicks.

This is the tyrant everyone has been whispering about. The monster that Aimee warned me to stay away from.

So much for that.

"Enough, Mya," Alpha Andre growls, entering through the kitchen. His presence immediately weighs down the air, making it heavy with tension. "Adrienne," he motions past himself, gesturing for me to enter the room he just came from.

Alpha Andre may be the last bastard I want to talk to, next to his son, but I gratefully take the opportunity to get away from Mya. As I stride across the room to Andre, I stick my tongue out at her in a taunting sneer. She always hated being scolded by Andre instead of being his lap dog, and I've always loved her indignation over it.

Once in the kitchen, I clench my jaw when I see Nathan sitting at the table. There's no denying that I have strong feelings for him. Just not the feelings he wants me to. But repulse is a very strong feeling nonetheless.

Although repulse isn't what I get we approach the table. It's more like happiness. Because there's just something about of him, with his head down, held between his hands, with stress creasing his features, that's satisfying to me.

"Explain to us," Andre says, leaning past me to lay his palm flat on the tabletop, "What that monstrous bastard wants with you."