THORN
The pelt is itching my inner thigh again. I adjust it for the third time and scowl. I’ll never understand this part of the ceremonies. We live naked. We hunt naked. We fight naked. Yet once a year, the priests decide this is necessary.
While I understand the use, it’s about resourcefulness and ingenuity.
It’s my least favorite part of this whole charade.
The males always choose some form of pelt to show their aggressiveness and ability to hunt.
The bigger the animal, the better the pelt.
I’ve always found a mountain lion or a bear venturing farther and farther each time.
This time, I’ve chosen something…different.
The looks start immediately. I ignore them, prowling through the cheese and berry platter on the buffet table instead. Moonlight spills across the stone floor as clouds drift lazily across the sky, casting shadows that move like living things.
I turn. A short brunette greets me in a short dress of moss that is conveniently missing moss in certain places, and is tighter around others. “Ingrid. How was Maine? Cold?”
“Not colder than Alaska.” She snickers.
I can’t believe that a few years ago I’d even wasted my time talking to her. She smells like pine, which is familiar. But now knowing how a mate’s scent is supposed to make someone react, I realize how desperate I was. “Back so soon, what happened?”
“Well, you of all people should know treetop living is not for everyone. The humans are cutting down more and more trees, I didn’t like living that way. After two seasons, Jasper couldn’t produce offspring, so I’m back. I have a feeling you and I could produce some offspring.”
“Unlikely,” I deadpan.
“Are you telling me that Alpha seed isn’t producing?”
“I’m saying, this seed belongs to someone else.”
“Oh, do tell?”
As if she could sense I was talking to another female, a flash of red hair passes the double arched doors.
The breath fades from my lungs. I take back everything I said about this ceremony.
We should one hundred percent be made to wear whatever the hell that is.
If only so I can rip it off … with my teeth.
I take a step forward of my own accord.
“The virgin?” Ingrid snorts. “Seriously?”
But I’m already leaving her behind and walking directly toward my mate.
Ember’s fox red hair is pinned up, leaving her neck bare and biteable.
Her torso is covered with river reeds sown side by side to form a corset-type bodice with her two broken seashell halves at the top, which pulls her perfect breasts up high.
The skirt of the ensemble is tons of tendrils of ivy draping off her luscious hips.
With every step, her bare leg pops out. I’ve seen her legs before, I’ve even been between them, but this … this is erotic.
“Ember … I …”
“Is that a fox?” She laughs, interrupting me as she points to the pelt at my hip.
“I …” I stammer. I’d completely forgotten all about it when I saw her. “Yes.”
“It’s not very Alpha-like of you. Shouldn’t you have fought a bear or something for my honor?”
“I didn’t fight this at all.”
“I should hope not. If you can’t handle a tiny little fox then …” she stops, realizing more eyes are drifting toward us.
“I didn’t kill it at all.”
“Well, it’s not still alive, is it?” she whispers, moving closer to me.
“No. It’s something I saw being buried the day I arrived.”
“Oh,” she pauses before her mouth gapes open, “this isn’t … this isn’t the fox I …”
I nod.
“Why?” she shoots, standing ramrod straight before leaning in and whispering, “Why would you dig that up?”
I reach out and tuck a loose tendril of hair behind her ear, “It reminded me of you.”
She leans back and crosses her arms. “I don’t know whether to be appalled or flattered.”
“I was hoping for the latter.”
“I don’t know what to say.” She hides a smirk behind her hand.
“So no matter what you wore, we’d match. Letting everyone know you’re mine.”
Pink floods her cheeks, making her red hair shimmer.
“A fox?” a voice interrupts. “Thorn, you’re losing your touch.”
Steele approaches wrapped in a black silken pelt.
It wraps around his waist, and the head of the panther sits on his shoulder.
Behind him is Olcan and his brother, which is becoming typical lately, always together.
The brothers are both wrapped in a large brown pelt of a bear.
Olcan has the beast’s bottom half. Its torso wrapped around his waist, and the bear’s head over his like a hood.
Then Koa has the rest of the bear across his torso and over one shoulder with the creature’s teeth strung around his neck.
“Yeah,” Koa says, “even we grabbed a bear.”
“Together,” I mutter.
“What’s that?” Olcan leans forward, flashing his teeth.
“I’ve hunted countless bears over the years and was able to kill them alone with my bare hands.”
“A yes, because this is what…your hundredth ceremony?”
Surprisingly, it’s Ember who steps forward. “I’d rather have a wolf that waited, than one that would mate a new female each mating season.”
Finally, someone who gets it.
The priest’s voice cuts through the icy look Olcan shoots her.
“Welcome to the ceremonial feast before the Chase tomorrow. Many amazing looks this year, it shows great resourcefulness and strength. May this Mating Trial season bring many successful unions and hearty offspring for years to come. The rules of the ceremonial ball are simple: the males can ask any female to dance, and they cannot be turned down. So eat, drink, and dance the night away until this week culminates in the Chase at midnight upon the full moon tomorrow.”
With his words, twinkle lights along the columns sparkle to life and a band of priests behind him strike up instruments.
Wow, the priests really went all out this year.
Soft music drifts across the temple, echoing against the stone and into the cool night air.
The night smells like solstice and moonwine.
I turn back to ask Ember to dance.
“May I?” Olcan cuts in, reaching her hand before I get the chance.
She shoots me a look, but we both know she can’t say no, not tonight.