Werewolf and Vampire Mate [Book 1 Complete]

chapter four.

Orson

The moon is nearly full and I feel its effects like hot lava slipping through my veins.

Irritable, I stand outside the house, waiting for my brethren to finally finish getting ready. The tie around my neck is a noose, choking me. Suits are not what I'm comfortable in and it takes everything in me not to rip off the form-fitting clothes I wear. But this is a formal event and I refuse to make a mockery of my kind by showing up underdressed. The vampires already think themselves so far superior.

"Hurry up!" I call over my shoulder, a growl deep in my voice.

The front door opens and finally North appears, jogging down the stairs toward me.

My eyebrows furrow in a severe, angry slash. "What are you wearing?"

He stops and looks down at his t-shirt and dark jeans. "What do you mean?" He eyes me. "What are you wearing?"

I grit my teeth. "It's formal attire, North."

"Yeah, these are my best jeans."

Fucking hell. I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to keep my cool. I am usually more patient, but as the full moon draws closer, my tolerance for bullshit plummets. "You need to get changed. Now."

"You think I own a suit?" He points to himself. "Come on, man. Be realistic."

"Do you want us to look like absolute fools in front of them?"

"Why the hell should we care what the vampires think of us?" He spits the word vampire like it is vermin in his mouth.

I step toward him, a growl rumbling in my chest. "I have spent the past four months working on this truce. I've spent the last six weeks away from the pack, surrounded by vampires, to ensure that no more blood is spilt. The least you can fucking do is wear a goddamn suit."

North sighs, inspecting my expression for a moment to see how serious I am.

I could force him; I may not be his Alpha yet, but I will be soon enough. He is under my command, regardless. But he's also my closest friend and someone I respect deeply. Forcing him to submit isn't something I want to do.

"I'll go change," he says with a nod and steps back. "You should check on Lark and Heath. I doubt they know the dress code, if they're dressed at all."

Cursing under my breath, I follow North up into the house and storm down the hallway.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I mutter as the distinct sounds of sex reach my ears, well before I stop at the door to their bedroom. I bang on the door hard just as Lark moans loudly. "Get the fuck up, both of you! Right now."

"We're going to need a minute," I hear Heath pant from the other side of the door.

"Or five," Lark adds, equally breathless.

"Get up and get dressed into something half decent or I'm coming in," I say.

"Don't you dare," comes Heath's warning growl.

Ten minutes later, Heath, Lark and North finally emerge from the house and meet me on the grass of the clearing. North is wearing a dress shirt, but is still in his 'good' jeans. Lark and Heath both look thoroughly fucked.

"You know, when I chose you three as my delegates for this event, it was under the guise that you would actually make an effort to uphold this truce," I say, injecting a healthy bit of disappointment into my tone.

Only Lark looks adequately scolded, sinking back into her mate with flushed cheeks. Heath tightens his grip around her waist. "Sorry, Reed. We're going to be polite and civil tonight. Promise," Lark says.