Chapter 1 A NEW SEASON #2
“There’s Katie,” Jasper says, out loud this time, turning me to where my best friend in the world is standing with her two mates. She waves at me as one of the waitstaff passes by with a tray of delicious-looking snacks. “You want to say hi?”
“In a minute,” I say, involuntarily turning my head to follow the scent of whatever canapé was just whisked by without stopping. Rude. “First, I need a snack.”
Jasper can’t help grinning and shaking his head.
“What?”
He presses his lips together, forcing himself to stop his broadening smile.
“Nothing.” He nods. “You’re right. Food first.”
We’re just turning to go in hunt of nourishment when a man’s voice calls for Jasper’s attention.
“I thought I might have a word,” the man says, and we turn to find Cyrus, the pack’s head of PR, looking dashing in a tux with his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back. “Do you mind?”
“Of course, Cyrus.” Jasper leans into me. “This will only take a second, do you mind?”
“Not at all,” I say. “You talk. I’ll eat.”
“Save something for me,” Jasper says, looking at me hungrily, and I start to think he’s not thinking about actual food anymore.
I bite my lip, give his hand a squeeze, and leave him to talk business while I go in search of whatever that finger-lickingly tempting scent was.
Through the crowd I’m able to spot the server in his black waistcoat, and like a hunter stalking its prey, I trail him.
When I tap his shoulder, he turns and I’m immediately overwhelmed by the intense spicy aroma coming off what looks like some sort of minced meat on top of a tiny piece of toast and garnished with crispy onion and a sprig of some herb.
“Hi,” I say, too familiar. “Do you mind?”
“Go ahead,” the guy says, and I immediately grab one of the little toast slices and stick it in my mouth.
“Thanks,” I garble as I chew, and our eyes meet.
My mouth stops moving as I’m taken aback.
This guy has the most intense stare for a cater-waiter.
His brow is dark and heavy, casting shade over his hazel irises.
There’s something too alert about the way he’s looking at me.
He’s a big guy with broad shoulders, a thick neck, and his posture is almost too correct.
And there’s something else that’s making the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.
Behind the intoxicating scent wafting up from the tray before him, this guy smells . . . odd.
It’s hard to say what’s not sitting right, with the taste of the snack still thick on my palate and the mix of confusing scents. So instead of relying on my olfactory senses, I decide to use my blood-wolf powers, and I focus on him, opening my mind, to find—
“Max,” Jasper says, tapping me on the shoulder and distracting me. When I turn back, the waiter has vanished into the crowd, gone before I can get a proper read on him.
“Jasper, something’s weird about—”
“I want to introduce you to some people,” he says, cutting me off. I look around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the strange-scented waiter, then realize Jasper is standing with two other people, a hopeful and excited expression on his face.
“This is Alpha Aaliyah,” Jasper says, gesturing to the woman in a stark-white power suit, with glittering black skin, a shaved head, and fabulously chunky gold jewelry. “She is the alpha of the Nova Pack in North Carolina.”
“Hi,” I say, offering her my hand.
“A pleasure,” she purrs, returning the gesture.
“And this is Alpha Carmine, alpha of the Founders Pack from just outside DC.” Jasper nods at the white guy between him and Alpha Aaliyah.
Carmine is wearing a gray three-piece suit with a pocket watch on a chain attached to his waistcoat, and sitting perfectly in place atop his head is a great wave of caramel-colored hair.
I shake Carmine’s hand as well.
“Happy to make your acquaintance, Max,” Carmine says. “Jasper’s told me a lot about you.”
“He has?” I glance at Jasper, noticing the warmth radiating in my cheeks, though I can’t tell if it’s embarrassment or panic.
“Yes,” Aaliyah jumps in. “I know we’ve monopolized Jasper this last year or so, what with the negotiations between our packs, but we’re very grateful you’ve allowed us so much time with your charming mate.”
There’s a lot of information coming at me and I can’t stop thinking about the strange scent of that waiter.
I need to get into his head to find out what’s going on there.
But Carmine and Aaliyah are looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to say something, as is Jasper, who’s face is so adorably hopeful I could smush it between my fingers.
“You’re the alphas Jasper’s been meeting with?” I ask, putting some pieces together.
Carmine nods, slipping a hand casually into a pocket. “He’s done a wonderful job selling us on the benefits of aligning with the Elite Pack. Though of course the need for panic seems to have abated.”
“We’re thrilled there was no need for violence in the end,” Aaliyah continues on Carmine’s behalf, referring to the tensions bubbling between the packs last year, ones we all thought would lead to some sort of multi-pack conflict but that, with Walter Bridgers outed as a traitor and now in hiding, seem to have subsided.
“And even though the circumstances through which we met were tense, we’re glad we had the chance to get to know Jasper. You have a very special mate.”
Okay, now the warmth in my cheeks is fully just me blushing at how proud of my mate I am.
“I know,” I say, taking Jasper’s hand, forgetting for a moment about the strange-scented waiter.
“Jasper tells us you’re graduating high school soon,” Carmine says.
“Yes, in a couple of weeks actually.”
“Where do you plan to continue your studies?”
I laugh awkwardly and resist the temptation to rub the back of my neck, a habit I was supposed to have grown out of. “Well, I—”
“Max has been accepted into the arts program at NYU,” Jasper answers for me.
“Wonderful,” Aaliyah says, her extraordinarily long and intricately decorated nails rapping against the side of a champagne flute. “And what about the two of you?”
I glance from the pair of alphas to Jasper and back again, clearly not understanding.
Aaliyah shrugs, grinning. “Now that we’re at peace aren’t you considering . . .” She trails off, wafting a hand in front of her like the end of her sentence should be obvious.
“What my nosy comrade would like to know,” Carmine says, “is, now that there aren’t any interpack complications, when we should expect an invitation to your marking ceremony.”
Marking ceremony?!?!
My mouth drops open, instantly turning desert-dry, and my eyes are surely bugging right out of my stunned face.
“Our—our what?”