Feral Hearts

37

Time passed by, and the awaited event started.

 Lukas fucking hated these things.

 He growled to himself and drained his glass, well aware that his thunderous expression ensured that the other guests at the ball gave him a wide berth.

 So, they should. He wasn’t in the mood for either company or the simpering, airheaded females who were throwing their selves on him all evening. And if they weren’t under foot, they were gathered in clutches, blocking the walkways around the edges of the dance floor and waiting for an unwary male to stumble into them. When they did, the groups snapped shut like some sort of communal Venus fly trap, and the guy was doomed.

 As if the women weren’t enough, the males were just as bad. Already he’d been accosted three times tonight. Two had been ambitious minor lords looking for his support with some bill or other they planned to put before him. He snorted to himself, studying the bottom of his empty glass.

 Now if one of them was looking for support to develop a self-filling glass? That he could get behind, especially for events like this. A high and steady blood-alcohol level was the only thing keeping him sane.

 He glowered, making a nearby guest squeak and scuttle away. It was enough to make a man run for the hills, or in this case, the nearest door. He didn’t run, though. Instead, he motioned one of the circling waiters over and snagged another glass of wine from the tray he carried, downing it in one gulp.

 He couldn’t run. They are still waiting for the full moon to rise.

 Their customs had made it very clear that he had to attend this ball and behave. 

 That meant nodding and smiling through inane conversations with ambitious fathers and subjecting himself to the twittering offspring of gold-digging mamas. And there were definitely more of the latter, something he suspected were made before and planned to do it orchestrating. 

 When Lukas arrived, with his beta, Krid leaned in and whispered, “I don’t think you can find your mate. All I can smell right now is the smell of werewolves and I guarantee that a hundred percent there's no witches here.”

 Krid sighed.  

 But Lukas is determined, he just knew that his mate would come. Snagging another drink, he looked around the room, trying to see if any of the women caught his eye. Instead, Lukas spotted Edward with his mate and he was acting a bit odd around the woman, he acted like a self-appointed bodyguard perhaps, looking pissed. Edward the assassin had stationed himself just behind the tiny woman, his eyes constantly moving as he assessed each and every person for a possible threat to the woman he protected. With an aura of danger wreathing him like a cape, no one could mistake him for anything other than what he was—lethal.

 Is this how a person should protect a mate?

 Lukas thought before smiling.

 As Lukas watched Edward's mate, he can see her laughed at something someone in the group she was talking to had said and turned away, tucking her hand around Edward’s arm, even though he hadn’t extended it. The male flicked a glance down, and just for a moment his mask slipped. Under it was all the heat and possessiveness of a man who’d found his woman.

 Lukas blinked to himself as Edward looked up, his expression instantly shuttered again, but it didn’t matter. Lukas knew, and Edward knew, what he’d seen. 

 Lukas wanted to have his own mate like that, someone he can own, someone he can protect and someone he can call his. 

 Forcing himself not to stare and watch the two, Lukas looked around the rest of the room, checking for the other members of the council. Half weren’t here, with three on duty and three on leave for a week.