Chapter 2 - Hunter #2
Sean's pack, on the other hand, is hidden between the towns in Stowe, and everyone has fairly human lives outside of their duties as werewolves.
They meet up every week to discuss the latest developments and to perform a ritual under the full moon to honor the Moon Goddess.
It's been interesting learning how differently their pack operates, and it’s felt like the breath of fresh air I needed.
My decision to leave Bloodclaw after losing the alpha trials was an easy one, the idea coming as a dream that showed me the faces of the friends I've made throughout the years. Sean's pack was my first stop, and the pack members welcomed me with open arms.
Just as the Moonshine Pack appears welcoming. A young male smiles warmly at me as he shows us to a spot near the window. It's a table long enough to fit our group of Tyler's special guests who stayed over in Portland and now attend a luncheon in honor of his mate bond with Arianna.
As everyone settles in around the table, finding their places, I sink into my chair between Nicholas and Sean, wanting to disappear from the awkwardness of meeting Delilah's eyes again.
In broad daylight.
That's going to be impossible when Emily pushes her toward the chair across from me, and she doesn't have another option when Tyler, Arianna, and his parents enter the diner.
“Greetings, friends!” Tyler waltzes in with a beaming grin, arms opened wide as he heads to the table.
He's so different from the ‘designated driver’ role he played during our time in the military-style squad, and it's noticeable.
“Jeez, Ty-Ty!” Sean sneers. “You sound like an old man. Didn't you get any last night?”
“Hey!” Emily flings her napkin at him from across the table. “His parents are here!”
“He's a grown-up!” Nicholas retorts with a roll of his eyes. “He's the alpha of this pack. It's not like he's a virgin!”
Laughter echoes through the diner as everyone lightens up, even me. But not being on my guard means catching Delilah’s gaze for a brief second that stings when she purses her lips and looks away, as if looking at me churns her insides.
Gulping with remorse, the smile slips from my face as the former alpha and luna of the Moonshine Pack take their seats at one head of the table, while Tyler does the same with Arianna on the opposite side.
Conversation flows easily as lunch is served, but I can hardly enjoy my meal when Delilah is seated across the table. Doing my best to avoid her accusing eye—resentment I deserve—I'm grateful for Tyler's dad turning the conversation toward me.
If I can't disappear, at least I can be distracted by explaining what I've been up to these days.
“The alpha trials in Bloodclaw were gruesome,” I explained. “I guess I would have won if…”
Suddenly, my instincts pull my eyes to Delilah, and I notice how she doesn't look up from her plate, but she tucks her hair behind her ear.
I know she's listening intently, focused on the sound of my voice, because I'd seen that reaction before when she was trying to play it cool in front of our squad.
That's when realization hits like a ton of bricks.
I didn't lose the alpha trials because it wasn't important. Heck! I wouldn't have participated at all if I didn't think it was.
I lost because I didn't have any reason to win.
I'd lost that reason when I rejected her and called our time together ‘fun.’
Shit!
“…if my opponent wasn't good competition,” I continue, clearing my throat as I turn back to Tyler's dad.
“Besides, he'd spent his whole life vying for the alpha position,” I smile coolly.
“I didn't need to prove myself. What I found during my time in black ops was more than enough for me. It was priceless and meant more than becoming the Alpha of Bloodclaw.”
Tyler's dad appears to admire my response, nodding thoughtfully. From the corner of my eye, I notice Delilah's hesitation as she dabs her lips with a napkin, and I wonder if she caught on to what I was implying.
I've only just realized it myself. The friendships I made in the black ops squad were invaluable, but the bond I found that was fated was an extraordinary experience that my inner wolf will never allow me to forget.
“Well, it seems you've won in life, then,” Tyler's dad smiles in approval. “Making true, lasting connections is what makes a good werewolf great, and you don't need any title to prove that. Good on you.”
I smile warmly in response to the old alpha's approval, feeling at ease except for the way Delilah has been treating me like I don't exist.
My friends love me. Their parents love me.
But Delilah Hargreeves hates my guts.
It's only fitting that Tyler's father directs the conversation toward Delilah.
“Delilah, my dear…” he begins gently as Delilah straightens up. “Your father has told me about your betrothal.”
The ensuing coughing and spluttering from Delilah forms the soundtrack of the color draining from my face, shock freezing me on the spot and taking my breath captive.
Betrothal?
“Y-Yes…” Delilah stammers, reaching for her drink and emptying the flute. As she straightens up, she briefly glances at me, a flicker of anguish evident in the warm hazel depths of her eyes.
I've seen that pain in her eyes before, that sadness that filled them when I rejected her claim that we were fated mates.
“What we had was fun, sure. But there's no way it's anything more than that. Fated mates? That's a big reach.”
The echo of my snickering, immature retort comes back to haunt me, as if taunting me in the face of this new revelation.
“My parents have arranged my engagement to Prince Damion Hastings,” Delilah explains in a somber tone. Still, she says the man's name as if it matters who he is. As if some arrogant European Lycan Prince is worthy of marrying my mate.
Grr!
The rumbling growl brewing in my chest threatens to lash out at everyone seated around the table with no remorse or care for the consequences, but my mind kicks in to warn me of my inner wolf's anger, fury, red-hot rage that will spill out if I don't get some fresh air.
What's worse is that Delilah continues to describe the Lycan Prince as if he's some hot commodity whose name is too precious to be entangled with hers.
My nostrils flare as I stare at her from the side, wondering if this is the reason she's barely looked at me.
Because of Damion Hastings…?
Fueled by the anger that I'd just barely managed to contain earlier, my hands curl into fists, and I get to my feet.
“Excuse me,” I say to no one in particular as I keep my head down, rubbing my nose as I walk out of the diner.
The cool spring air in Portland does little to subdue my inner wolf, but I can't blame the beast inside me for becoming rabid, feral, wanting to rip its claws through another word about the arrogant, undeserving prince.
There's no way I'm letting my mate marry someone else. So what if she doesn't want to speak to me? I can't let another wolf lay claim to what's mine.
Something in me snaps, and I grunt under my breath, fists curling with determination as I set off toward town, deciding that I have to do something to stop this from happening.
There's no way Delilah is marrying someone else!