The Alphas Sister (Complete)

Chapter Thirteen: Firelight and Fault Lines

The Midnight Pack's field pulsed with life as the aging ceremony party kicked into gear, the night air thick with smoke, pine, and the tang of spilled liquor. Tents dotted the grass near the pack house, their canvas shapes flickering in the glow of the central bonfire, its blaze roaring high, spitting embers into the starry sky. 

I elbowed my way to the makeshift bar, a wobbly table of splintered wood, bottles glinting atop it, set up between two tents, the ground slick under my boots from an earlier drizzle. "Three shots of bourbon" I barked at the wiry bartender, his hands darting as he poured amber bourbon into chipped tumblers. 

I knocked them back, one, two, three, the burn clawing down my throat, a rare jolt for me. I wasn't a drinker, water or a stray beer usually did it, but tonight demanded more, something to melt the knots Natalie's rose scent and Amelia's venom had twisted into me.

I wove through the crowd, the bonfire's heat pulling me in, and dropped onto a rough-hewn log, its damp bark cool against my jeans. 

I stared into the flames, their dance numbing my edges. These mate parties never changed, single wolves from half a dozen packs piling onto some field under a full moon, chasing that fabled spark. 

I'd lost track of how many I'd slogged through, each one bleeding into the last, firelight, hopeful stares, the same tired chants. Years in, and the Moon Goddess still hadn't bothered with me, maybe I was too jagged for her to bother fixing.

A ripple ran through the crowd, tugging my gaze. Wolves were clustering at the field's far end, near a low stage draped in midnight-blue cloth, set up against the pack house's cedar wall. I'd lost time to the fire's pull, the bourbon fuzzing my clock. 

With a groan, I hauled myself up, swinging by the bar for one more shot, liquid courage, bitter and biting and joined the throng. Torin and Seline stood atop the stage, the Alpha's greying hair catching the firelight, the Luna's silver braid stark against her dark dress, the pack house looming dark and quiet behind them. Ten new eighteen-year-olds fidgeted in a line, five guys, five girls, their faces twitching between nerves and thrill.

"Welcome, everyone, to another mate party," Torin's voice boomed, warm but firm, slicing through the chatter. "This month, we've got ten wolves who've come of age, searching for their mates." He grinned, broad and proud. "May the Moon Goddess bless them and bring their mates swiftly, so they can know the wonder of the mate bond." He pulled Seline close, kissing her forehead, her blue eyes softening as the crowd cooed, a few wolves whistling.

I scoffed under my breath, the bourbon souring the sweetness. Years of these nights, and I was still empty-handed, either the Moon Goddess had skipped me or I wasn't worth the ink on her list. 

We lined up, a ragged queue of singles snaking across the damp grass, the ritual as worn as my patience. Fifteen minutes dragged by before I climbed the stage steps, boots thudding on the creaky wood. The first girl, a petite blonde with a shy smile, offered her hand, I shook it, felt nothing but her sweaty grip. 

Next, a lanky guy with a jittery grin, pack rules meant checking all, no exceptions, though I'd never leaned that way, another handshake, another blank. Down the line I went, ten hands, ten nothings, my dark green eyes meeting theirs with fading sparks. "Another month, still no mate," I muttered, stepping off, the weight settling like wet dirt in my chest.

The bar tugged me back, a bourbon cradled in my hand as I slumped onto a wobbly stool, the field spinning with life around me, tents flapping, wolves laughing, the fire's crackle a steady pulse. 

Six of the ten had paired off, giggling and starry-eyed, hands locked, whispers traded in the shadows. I was glad for them, sure, but their glow carved a hollow in me, a void I couldn't shake.