Chapter 5 Kingston
KINGSTON
I should have worn sunglasses or blinders.
Standing at the entrance to the glittering ballroom, I glanced at the groups of single shifters and classified each one. There was the confident, cool group sipping drinks and pretending they weren’t looking for a mate. Besides, at the appropriate time, their mate would come to them.
Then there were the ones who feared they’d leave here with the same status as when they arrived: single and mateless. They were on the perimeter of the room, trying to arrange their features into a nonchalant expression and not succeeding.
Of course, there were occasional romantic moments, where an omega or alpha at one end of the room sensed their mate and they raced toward one another, mimicking the crescendo of an on-screen romance.
I grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and sidled around the side of the gigantic ballroom.
As it was Christmas, the room was decorated in garlands of pine and holly, and the scent of cinnamon and oranges permeated the air.
Candles lit with pixie magic—there’d be no melting or dripping allowed—twinkled in candelabras.
I grimaced because I suspected they were making fun of me and my gloomy outlook.
I loved Christmas, but attaching it to a mating event had me wanting to bury every decoration or burn it.
People stared at me as I moseyed through the crowds, and I was pleased I’d worn a mask. Other shifters must’ve suspected it was me, but there’d be no confirmation because I wasn’t removing it until I was in the car.
I searched for CCTV, thinking Father might demand proof I was here, and I figured an hour would be enough time to prove there was no mate of mine in attendance.
“Kingston Basson.”
Damn. I’d been hoping to avoid the owner of that tingling voice, and now I couldn’t flee without appearing rude and ungrateful for the privilege of being invited.
“I was hoping to meet you.”
I turned, schooling my face from gloomy to pleasant.
Bex, because this had to be her, was tiny, as were most pixies.
From Father I’d learned she was older than him, and yet she appeared to be close to my age.
Her dress reminded me of starlight and lightning woven together with fireflies.
Her wings fluttered, but it was her grin that got my attention.
Were pixies wicked? Because that was the message I got from her quirky smile.
My bear, who’d never met a pixie, warned me not to trust her.
I took her hand and kissed it.
“Are you enjoying the ball? Your father told me you were reluctant to come.” There was something in her eyes beyond the mischief she was renowned for.
Damn him. Did he also tell her to keep an eye on me? Or to put a spell on the door, meant only for me, so I couldn’t escape?
“It’s amazing. You’ve outdone yourself.”
“True.” She circled me, and I wondered if she was measuring my butt or thinking I needed to go to the gym. “I am so very good at this, but I’m disappointed.”
I tensed because I suspected I was the source of that.
“You'd prefer to be elsewhere, and I wonder why that is.”
“I’m here.” I spread my arms wide and almost spilled my champagne. “That’s what matters.”
“I’m not so sure.” She tapped one finger against her lips. “But after watching and listening to you, I’ve made a little discovery.”
I rummaged through my head, trying to find what she had found out about me. She knew I didn’t want to be here, so what else was there? I worked too hard? Guilty. Father and I didn’t have an easy relationship? True.
Bex leaned close, and I bent down to catch what she said. “I think you’ve already found your mate.”
No. She was fishing because she couldn’t possibly know that. Or could she?
“What?” I threw champagne down my throat. “What makes you think that?” Damn, that wasn’t a denial. “That’s impossible.”
“Impossible you’ve found your mate or impossible I could detect it?” Her grin widened. “The goddess works in mysterious ways, Kingston. Or should I call you King? Sometimes she answers prayers we've forgotten we made.”
Before I could respond, she flitted away.
She called you King. Only one other person has done that.
Don’t remind me. I didn’t want to think of Merrick tonight, not in this place where shifters were hungry for a mate.
She couldn’t have known despite her pixie powers.
After placing my empty flute on a tray and taking another, I lurked and loomed from the sidelines.
A wolf shifter approached, but I snarled, and he scurried away.
After fifteen minutes hiding by the champagne fountain, I checked my watch.
My duty was done, and I was going to head out.
I was heading for the exit when the scent hit me, and the champagne flute slid from my hand. A shifter nearby caught it and gave me a “you found the one” look.
Merrick, our mate.
I spun around and pushed people aside as I followed the scent.
It was stronger in some sections of the ballroom and faint in others.
I was frantic, shoving shifters aside and coming between the recently mated.
Five years I’d spent suppressing that scent, and only when I was desperate did I bury my face in his shirt.
Fury curled into a ball in my belly. This had to be Bex’s doing.
She’d used her pixie magic to trick me by creating a phantom scent of my mate.
All because I didn’t drop to my knees and worship her ability to match make.
She was tormenting me, or even worse, she’s attached Merrick’s scent to some other omega to trick me into bonding with someone else.
Tears pricked my eyes as a vision of Merrick faded in my head. I’d be forced into a mating arrangement and possibly forget about my one true love.
I had to get out of the ballroom and far away from here, hoping that whatever trickery she’d used wouldn’t follow me. But the mating instinct was too strong, and I followed the scent through the dance floor where couples swayed. I raced around the ice-sculpted swans and toward a Staff Only door.
My bear’s instinct told him our mate was here, and I couldn’t reason with him. Not that I could argue or overcome my own intuition.
A guy dressed as a waiter was headed toward the door. Yes, he had the same dark hair as Merrick and a similar build, but it wasn’t him.
He pushed through the door but didn’t go into the kitchen. Instead, he raced along the corridor and galloped down a set of steep stairs.
His scent was all-consuming. Everything screamed it was him, my mate, but what was the likelihood that my human mate was working at a shifter matchmaking ball?
The stairs were dimly lit, but with my shifter sight, I didn’t hesitate or stumble. He was headed into the wine cellar, and I followed him in. The door clicked behind me as he turned on a light.
“Merrick.” It wasn’t him, but my brain and my beast couldn’t tell the real omega from the impersonator.
“I’ll be right there. I’m just getting more of the Bordeaux.”
His voice mimicked my Merrick, but it couldn’t be him—until he turned. The sight of the face I hadn’t seen in five years punched the breath out of my lungs and left me gasping. Either pixie magic was more powerful than I imagined, or this was my mate.
But he didn’t react as I’d imagined a thousand times. Shit, the mask. I yanked it off, and he shrieked.
“King. It really is you.” He backed away, which was wrong. Why didn’t he fling himself into my arms?
In my mind, we’d embrace and vow never to part. We’d exchange details on how we couldn’t find one another, and I’d wait until he finished his shift and take him home.
But the yearning that had coiled around my heart for five long years had me blurting out, “You’re my mate.”
“What?”
I babbled about my prayer, the shirt, the change in scent and trying to find him. Details spilled from him about his brother’s medical emergency—an organ transplant—and then he was in my arms, his scent filling my lungs.
“I… yes… Wow, I… yes… I’ll be your mate. For always.” He tugged at his hair. “This is bonkers. But I need to get back to work. Wait for me?”
“Forever.” Another hour tacked onto the five years that had passed would be excruciating.
He went to open the door, which was difficult because I wouldn’t let him go.
“It’s locked from the outside.”