Every Were Gets A Mate

Chapter 2

Picture at the top is Jessica.

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After laying on the old sofa in the basement for several minutes, I opened my eyes and sat up. I had to pretend for one more day at least, but I could get to work packing up. I went into my parents' room and pulled two large suitcases out of their closet. We had smuggled any belongings with sentimental value to them once they had found a new home. Tanner and I were both too young to drive our parents' car. It had taken us months to walk things to the nearby human town and use their mail service, but now they had all our pictures, mementos, jewelry, and family heirlooms.

There was nothing I would miss terribly if I was thrown out with nothing. But I saw no sense in leaving my clothes behind. I was expected to pack in order to move into my mate's home anyway, so why waste money on all new clothes once I left if I didn't have to?

I took some joy in carefully folding my clothes and placing them in the suitcases. Freedom was so close. I could taste it. I was not afraid of the outside world. It had to better than Fury Pack. I thought of myself as brave even if I didn't stand up to them or try to run away. I was realistic as well as brave. They would kill me in an instant if they suspected the insubordinate nature of my thoughts. I had seen six people killed with my own eyes and heard of many more, so I had no doubts about the precarious nature of my life here. I had to get away with permission if I wanted to do it alive.

I left out a T-shirt and pajama bottoms to sleep in, underwear, and clothes for the following day. I also took a break to make myself dinner, using the best of what I had on hand, and ate it slowly. Once I finished packing, I took a leisurely walk through my house.

In my parents' bedroom, I ran my fingers over their polished wood furniture and the soft comforter. I still kept everything immaculately clean. It helped me feel close to them to look at and touch the things that had lived in the house with me while they were there. I checked their closet again. Many of their clothes still hung there. My fingers touched the brown suede jacket with cream wool trim that I had always admired. I pulled it out and decided to wear it tomorrow. Mom might like it back or let me keep it.

I touched everything in my brother's room too, smiling at his football hero posters. I went through each room of the house, touching things and letting the happy memories flow through me. This was the home I had grown up in. No matter what happened outside this house, it was always waiting for me, a safe haven filled with love. I don't know why they let me keep it. I suspected it was just less work for them than finding me a smaller place to live. I knew it was never meant to be a kindness. I was grateful but only to Fate. I prayed Fate would give me another gift.

I thought about bringing my parents' and brother's clothes, but I don't want to jinx myself. If Fate thinks I'm counting on not finding my mate here, then I'll find a mate here because I was arrogantly overconfident. I'm probably overthinking, being superstitious, but why chance it? I've heard putting a hat on a bed is bad luck. It makes sense. You are much more likely to sit on the hat if it is on the bed, which would be considered bad luck. If you open an umbrella in the house, you are more likely to knock things off walls or shelves with it. If you walk under a ladder, you are more likely to bump it and have something drop on you or knock the person using it off. My parents have been fine without their old clothes for six years, Tanner without his for two years. There is no reason to tempt fate any more than I already am.

After a relaxing hot bath, I went to bed. Although I woke in the morning and had a small breakfast, I went right back to bed and allowed myself to snooze there until noon. I hoped I would be up late that night getting as far away from Fury Pack as possible. When I became restless, I got up and baked myself a birthday cake. No one else was going to do it. As I used my mother's KitchenAid stand mixer, I remembered how excited she had been when Dad bought it for her. The thing was expensive. I decided to bring it with me, so I cleaned and dried it after making my red velvet cake, extra cocoa powder added, and cream cheese frosting.

Around three o'clock, I put a single candle in the cake and lit it. I closed my eyes and wished with everything in me that my mate wouldn't be in Fury Pack and I would be driving my parents' old car out of here as fast as possible that evening. When I was sure the wish was solid, strong, and unmistakable, I opened my eyes and blew out that candle. The flame extinguished, and a small trail of smoke wafted up towards the ceiling. Aloud, I said, "Happy birthday to me."

I cut a slice of the cake, put it on a plate, sat down at the kitchen table, and took the first bite. The sweet, light, chocolaty flavor and subtle tanginess of the cream cheese flooded my taste buds as I pressed the soft, spongy texture up to the roof my mouth. Heavenly. I knew how important it was to appreciate the small pleasures in life.

I took my time eating my slice of cake, put the rest in the cake carrier, and packed up the old Jeep Patriot. Suitcases. Check. Mixer with all accessories. Check. Cake. Check. Blanket and pillow in case I needed to stop for a nap. Check. Outdated map of the U.S. Check. I was ready to get the hell out of there.

At 5:30 PM, I stood in front of the full length mirror on the back of my closet door. I knew my attire was slightly rebellious, but it was cold out. Normally, young women wore flirty sundresses and high heels for their lineups, wanting to look good for their mates. Starting at my feet, I looked at what I wore. Sturdy black boots with metal hooks instead of holes for the laces. Fitted, dark brown, corduroy pants with some stretch to them. A thick knit, long-sleeved T-shirt in black. My dark brown hair was pulled back into a high ponytail. I put on the brown suede jacket and pulled up the offset zipper, leaving a flap on my chest that showed the soft fluffy cream wool. I looked more like I was going for a trek in the woods then a lineup, but I liked it. What would the alpha do? The lineup was outside. It was mid-January and damn cold out. Just in case, I slipped my driver's license and debit card in my pants pocket.

At 6:05 PM, I exited my house and walked slowly towards the ceremonial field. The cold wind blew across my face, reddening my cheeks. My hands were stuffed into my jacket. I thought to myself that I should have worn a hat and gloves, but it was too late at that point. I couldn't turn back.

At 6:15 PM, I arrived at the edge of the field. It looked like the entire pack had shown up. The unmated males were already forming a long line down one side of the field. Late additions placed themselves at the end farthest from my position. Across from the men were the spectators, family and friends of the men or the merely curious. Alpha Fisher stood at the far end of the field, beyond the end of the lineup, with his son and Arnold. I waited where I was for the call.

Just before 6:20 PM, the alpha's son joined the lineup at the very end. I moved forward, placing myself twenty feet from the beginning of the line. Most of the unmated males were already looking at me. I focused my eyes on the distant alpha. After sweeping his eyes along the lineup, he looked at me and boomed out, "Jessica McIntire! Proceed!"

I moved to the first man in line, turned, and looked at him. Standing just two feet away, I breathed in his scent as he took in mine. Nothing. I lifted my hand, and he did the same, meeting me in the middle for the lightest of touches. Nothing. We lowered our hands, and I stepped to the side to repeat the procedure with the next man. This took a while. It was supposed to be obvious, but I was expected to be thorough. The touch wasn't necessary if the scent didn't excite me, but it was expected as a second check. The scent of my mate should be the best thing I had ever smelled in my life. When we touched, it should send warm tingles up my arm. More touching should arouse me.

I continued down the line and felt nothing. Halfway, a spike of hope rose up inside me, but I pushed it back down. Too early. Three-quarters down. Nothing. Twenty men left. Nothing. Ten. Nothing. Five. Nothing. I stepped in front of Colton, kept my head down a bit, and breathed in. Nothing. We lifted our hands and touched. Nothing.

He grabbed ahold of my hand, yanked me towards him, and said in a gravelly voice, "Mine."

Shocked, I looked up at his face and saw raw hunger and desire in his brown eyes.

What. The. Hell?