The Werewolf's Mate

Chapter 1

SMASH!

Shit. That's the third alarm clock in three months.

A long crack stretches across the top of the device, the small rectangular screen black. From beyond the door of my bedroom, heavy, barefooted footfalls thump up the steps and a moment later, the door swings open.

"I don't know why you insist on an alarm clock."

"Remember what happened to my last phone?" Dad shakes his head but it's in acknowledgement rather than saying he doesn't remember.

So, it's really three destroyed alarm clocks and one phone.

"We have to do something about those impulses."

Hormones are the son-of-a-bitch-bane-of-my-fucking-existence. They spring up when we hit adolescence, but when the sixteenth year comes around, it's the most trying time in a young Were's life.

Sometimes, it's difficult keeping control of my actions torn between the animal half, its violent instincts and the logical, human mind.

The higher ups in a pack are strong Weres. We're stronger than the rest and while getting used to these hormones, it's a constant battle between the human and the animal, both sides battling for control to steer the wheel resulting in whiplash mood swings.

The mood swings kicked in a month after I turned sixteen and we're approaching the end of another school year. I turned seventeen two months ago, yet control is still an issue.

Most times, I have complete control. Other times, it depends on who has a death wish.

I'm born of a high rank. Gamma of the pack, the head of security of Marcana.

Or rather, the future head of pack security.

My father is the current gamma, and an appointed member to the town's Council to represent us.

The pack has one other representative as is the custom that each residing pack has two representatives.

For us, it's Dad, and Beta Chad Hayes who represents us.

"It's odd, though," I toss to my father's worry. "It's been two months since the last episode."

Then, I lost control and beat up an idiot for testing my patience during training. The altercation had all four highest-ranking wolves – the alpha, beta, gamma, and commander – intervening to peel me off.

The idiot was carted off on a stretcher to the pack hospice and treated for bruised ribs, a blackened eye, busted lip, and a dislocated wrist.

It was awful. Not my proudest moment but he knew that like my friends of the other three prominent ranks, I battle with controlling those awful hormones.

I had graciously accepted the offer to spar, ignoring his attitude like any respectable upcoming leader. My lack of reaction infuriated him, so he turned to provocative comments challenging the authority of his opponent's rank, deliberately landing harsh blows and cheap shots. I let it all slide.

Until he made a comment about my late mother and Dad's inability to protect her. Since then, the kid's never looked my way.

But I'm not as badly off as my best friend. Carter Hayes, on the other hand, is an entirely different beast with far less control over his animal instincts. Most days, Carter seems more animal than man, propelled strictly by instinct and violent urges.

Though, since finding his mate last year, he's been doing better. So to speak.

"Will you be okay to go to school? Or do you want to me to contact Jordan and tell him to forward all your assignments?"

Jordan Dalton is the school's principal. A werewolf like us, but of the beta rank and dwelling in another pack. Crescent Hill is the second largest pack in the town of Jasper Falls, located the northern end of the town where it is denser in forestry and hilly.

He's also part of the town's Council and while a select few humans in town, particularly of the elite circles governing Schrattner's County know of us, most remain blissfully unaware of our existence and the fact that our ancestors built this county from the dirt.

"No. I'll be fine. I've got two mock tests today. I can't miss that."

Dad nods, informs me that breakfast is ready and to get my 'overgrown ass' out of bed if I intend to get to school on time. He leaves after saying he'll purchase a fourth alarm clock, and if I break that one, he'll wake me up himself with a jug of ice-cold water.

He would go through with that threat. This is Steven Daniels after all.

Still, I make a silent promise to do better. He worries enough about me.

By the time I get downstairs, Dad is at the dining table in the kitchen, sheets of paper for the evening's border patrol roster laid out before him. In one hand, he fiddles a pen and the other grips a large brown and white coffee mug with the words 'WORLD'S COOLEST DAD' printed on the front.

A Father's Day gift I bought him when I was eleven that he knew about and faked surprise not to disappoint me.

"Need any help?" I ask with hopeful eyes, peering down at the roster. In a couple of years, this will be my inheritance. I want to be as good at the job as Dad.

"No," he responds, dropping the pen to take a sip of his coffee. "But you can set tomorrow's evening patrol."

Breakfast is light, consisting of orange juice or coffee with chicken paste sandwiches eaten over idle conversations.

With the coronation of a new generation of leaders less than a few years away, it's become customary that Dad fills me in on the comings and goings of the pack and his role within it when I'm not learning how to do his job.

The conversation changes briefly, him asking about my schoolwork, the mock exams scheduled for the rest of the week since finals are around the corner.

I'm not the best student when it comes to academics. Dad knows this so he doesn't comment on my noncommittal response of, "It's going alright."

He's not mad about it. Our pack is powerful in number, wealth, and connections. Academics play only a small part in the grand scheme.

With breakfast had, I drive to Carter's house. The edgy feeling I had this morning when the alarm went off is still with me. I'm not sure what to make of it and why after this long, there's a sudden change. I thought I had this shit under control.

Carter lives two streets away. The pack's residential area is a large, gated community. No humans are allowed unless granted permission by the pack's higher ups or unless they are fated to one of us. It's all part of keeping our existence secret under the guise of 'class division'.

A stranger would never know the wealth we have at a glance.

The pack's residence is merged with the nearby woodland, part of which is claimed private property.

Acquiring such helps when we're practically royalty around here, occupying shares and positions in Aegean Industries, the conglomerate that owns fields in every industry and built this county from the ground up.

Strolling the SUV to a halt in front of the Hayes' residence, I pop the horn, shoot a text to our mutual friend who lives two houses down.

The time on my phone tells me there's little more than twenty minutes before the first bell calls.

I might not be a star student, but I've always prioritized punctuality.

When too much time passes, leaving us with less than fifteen minutes to beat the morning traffic, I dial Carter's number.

"What the fuck? Can't you fucking wait? I heard you the first time, Sky!"

"Good morning to you too, princess," I drawl lamely, not in the mindset to put up with Carter and his mood swings while dealing with my own.

Carter growls over the phone and I don't withhold the urge to roll my eyes wishing the jackass could see it.

"We have less than fifteen minutes to get to school. Get out here before I drag you out," I threaten, ignoring the string of profanities and threats that falls from Carter's mouth. Dropping the phone into the empty cupholder, I take deep breaths to calm the nervous energy thrumming my veins.

It's like thousands of ants crawling beneath my skin. Could it be anxiety? Anxiety mixed with what? There's something else. Something that feels off.

I just wish I knew what it was that's got me on edge. I slept fine last night, one of the few nights in recent weeks when I did not have patrol, able to be in bed by ten thirty.

After another minute passes, I catch sight of a figure exiting the yard two houses down. Dyed-black hair with golden highlights, my eyes eat up Asher's approaching form from head-to-toe.

Asher is a natural blond, but I can't deny that his choice to dye his hair black and put in highlights makes him look delectable. Wearing a close-fitted dark blue jersey and dark jeans, desire swells at the sight of him temporarily drowning out those nervous feelings.

I don't get nervous.

Asher slides into the front passenger's seat, a soft smile curling his lips though his brown eyes carry mischief that's so like him. He picks up on my arousal, soft brown eyes trailing the length of my body and settling on my lips.

My tongue darts out to wet my suddenly dry lips at the open invitation gleaming in those eyes.

"Morning –"

Asher abruptly smashes his lips against mine. My tongue finds his in a heated kiss and more than ever, I want to quench the desire.

He's been one of my closest friends since childhood but about two years back, we started a different kind of relationship. He's the son of the commander of the pack and he trains hard to gain the respect worthy of his station that's paid off in multiple ways.

Ash has a lithe body full of strength and flexibility, a narrow waist that steals my breath and amplifies the urge to trace the outline of him no matter how many times I've done so.

Our kiss is broken when the back door opens. Carter slides inside, slamming the door with such force that it shakes the vehicle.

"Are you trying to break my fucking door?"

"Fuck off, Daniels!" Carter sneers. He tilts his head and sniffs the air, a low grumble following. "Roll the windows down. Your fucking pheromones stink."

Asher and I exchange glances, but I oblige the request of the pampered little king of Jasper Falls High School. Ash and I make idle chitchat that involve our usual flirting the entire ride to school.

"Busy later?" Asher queries. It's been almost a week since we hooked up. Something in me withers at his open suggestion. Despite the earlier desire, the urge to take him into my arms, images of us tangled up in sheets, his limbs wrapped around me, hands buried my hair suddenly feels like a sin.

It kills any desire I have toward him.

And yet, "I'm in charge of tomorrow's patrol roster. You could come over and keep me company."

For some reason, my heart pounds faster at my invitation. Not with anticipation but as if I'm doing something wrong and there'd be hell to pay if we're caught.

"Maybe I will," he replies.

Suddenly, the scent of his arousal is too much to bare. It tickles my nose in a way that makes me sick and I'm thankful that we rolled down the windows.

The arousal stemming from him isn't the only thing suffocating the car ride. An enormous wave of bad energy emanates from the backseat hanging over our heads like a dark rain cloud about to pop.

"How's that mate search going, Sky?" Carter pipes from the backseat, his tone tight with unapologetic sarcasm. The question comes from a place of spite. Of everyone in our friend group, he is most unfiltered in his opposition to our relationship.

He has nothing against us and wouldn't hesitate to take a bullet for either of us. He loves Ash to death, but he doesn't approve of our relationship.

"Who cares, Carter?" Asher fires. His tone is unusually bitter. "When it happens, it happens."

Carter laughs and I see him tossing his head back in the rearview.

The sound is sarcastic, and full of venom as we drive into the school's student parking lot.

He laughs as though it's a great joke and to him, it is.

He's had his share of flings but never entered anything serious.

He's been strict about boundaries prioritizing the notion that only his fated mate is entitled to his loyalty.

When he sobers, the sinister grin pointed at Ash in the rearview sends a chill over me. Carter is not usually so spiteful.

Something happened to trip him off if he's so centered around the 'mate' issue. I'm in no rush to find mine. Older Weres like to use a saying to motivate younger wolves to find their significant others: "A higher up is never at their strongest without their fated."

It's true to some extent. But I could manage taking on the responsibilities of gamma without a mate.

Until then, I have needs and I'm living life my way.

"Careful, Ash. For a moment there, I almost believed you'd fallen for Sky."

Silence pulses instead of Asher's usual quick wit. His gaze drops to his lap, jaw clenched tight. In the rearview, Carter's gaze twinkles with malice as he turns away from looking at Ash to the students idling nearby.

Asher takes crap from no one so the fact that Carter's provocative statement has rendered him speechless makes me uneasy.

There are supposed to be no strings attached.

"Just remember," Carter drawls, "you both still have your mates. Wouldn't it suck for them?"

Something happened.

Carter gets out of the car and shrugs on his football jacket heading for the school.

It's as if he's done a complete transformation.

He talks with his football friends as though he hadn't been grumpy and spiteful the whole ride and without meaning to, a flutter of irritation bursts through at his nonchalance.

It's rare we fight. We might disagree, insult each other the only way life-long friends can. It's uncommon that tensions run this high in our group of four.

"I'm sorry about him, Ash."

"He went overboard," Ash spits quietly, avoiding my gaze.

"You know how he is." The last thing I should be doing is excusing Carter's bad behavior.

He's an asshole when those mood swings kick in.

Possibly the worst kind of person to be around.

He's impulsive, unpredictable, and his words – insulting and malicious – are deliberate and carefully chosen.

"Those mood swings mess him up and he says shit he doesn't mean half the time. "

And that's a big fat lie. A man will spill his sober thoughts under the influence of liquid courage. Carter is as blunt and unfiltered as a drunken man when he's hyped up on unstable emotions.

Asher remains silent for some time, finding interest in his backpack. He has yet to look at me and by the chaotic energy swarming him, I don't need a professional to tell me that Carter's words bother him.

This is bad.

"Yeah, whatever. I should go. There's that quiz this morning," he states, already pushing the door open. I catch his elbow. Ash stiffens, the sound of his beating heart louder than the cars and chattering outside.

I regret what I'm about to ask because I can guess what the answer will be. It will mess up everything.

"Ash, do you have feelings for me?"

He refuses to make eye contact. But when he does a moment later, I catch the glistening moisture in his eyes.

"I'm a fucking fool for it."