Escaping Rogue

nine

"What even is this stupid ball for?" I sat on Christian's desk, fiddling with the invitation he handed me a few seconds ago. Chris was sitting down behind me, watching. I skimmed the note again.

"You're formally invited to the Hanson Pack's Christmas Ball." I looked over my shoulder. "Who even is the Hanson Pack?"

Chris leaned backwards in his great leather chair. He reached for one of his drawers, and pulled out a stack of papers that was ridiculously huge. "These are all the packs within five hundred miles." There were a lot of packs not very far from here, then. He flipped a couple pages in, then pulled out a paper-clipped stack of papers. "Here."

God I really wished I would have payed attention to all the surrounding packs in high school.

I grabbed the stack from his outstretched hand. It was heavy, probably one of the thickest stacks in that pile. There was a picture of a man and woman on the front. The man looked young enough, with the woman looking even younger. They both had vibrant smiles pasted on their faces, and instantly I could tell that they were the more cheery type of people. I bit back a scoff.

After a few more minutes of skimming, I dropped the file back onto his desk and stood up. "They're rich socialites. Don't seem to have very good fighting abilities, and yet, you know them well enough to be invited to this extremely posh looking ball. How?"

He smiled, looking at his hands before glancing back up. "You obviously don't seem to take a liking to them." Such an observer. I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms. "Lena, the only reason I know them is because they're in this file and my parents knew theirs. I'm invited because of old family connections."

There was something off about his tone, something I didn't like. He sounded like he was trying to hide something from me. Chris looked me in the eyes, and yet I could tell it was a ploy to try and disguise his lie.

"Are you sure that's it?" I whispered. He looked down again, this time reaching for the file and placing it back in the pile.

He took his time, all the while still avoiding my gaze. Finally, he answered with, "Whatever you want to think, Lena."

I decided not to try and fight. I wasn't feeling up to arguing, not lately it seems. I feel like I'm getting a cold, except that's odd because werewolves can't get colds. My head hurts and I feel like I'm always going to throw up. How can someone with accelerated healing be feeling so sick? I sat down in one of the chairs.

"So what am I supposed to wear to this ball?" I smirked, crossing my arms over my chest. Am I supposed to be Cinderella in this position? Wear a fancy dress and dance the night away? That's kind of not my thing.

"Well, I've had my mom pick out a few dresses for you to pick from." He said, standing up. I watched him round the desk and stride behind me. He grabbed my arms, leaning down close to my ear. "As long as it's red. You look good in red."

I looked up, my eyebrow arched. "Man whore." I muttered. I haven't used that nickname in a long time. He smiled, letting go of my arm and grabbing my cheek.

"Only to you, princess."

I couldn't help the eye roll. "Where's your mother?"

Christian quickly pecked my lips before going back behind his desk.

"Spare bedroom. She's already got the dresses set out. Pick a good one." He smirked, plopping himself back into his chair. I walked toward the door, halfway outside.

"Yeah, whatever alpha."