The Feisty Mate

Beloved Son

Weston froze. His senses were picking up on something closing in on him. Left side. Male. Pack. Jerome.

"Jerome, you tackle me and It'll be a fight to the death," Weston growled.

Silence.
"Bro, just step out here and quit trying to sneak up on me," Weston turned in the direction he heard his best friend.

"Wes, I swear you're becoming a lame!" Jerome said stepping from behind the trees.
"Why cause I won't let you tackle me like an idiot?! Come on J. I don't feel like playing right now," Weston started back walking towards the cliffs.

"What's up bro? You good?" Jerome fell into step with his friend. He felt something was wrong with his big dog. Not only were they pack members, they'd been friends, more like brothers since they were born.

"Just thinking about this mate thing," Weston sighed.

Jerome nodded but remained silent. He felt bad for Weston. Being the future alpha and dealing with all the expectations couldn't be easy. So far, Wes had handled everything like a champ except finding his mate when he turned 18.

Weston Gunvoy, 25 year old son of the great Chief Superior Dean Gunvoy was not ready to become Alpha.

Dean Gunvoy. That name alone created a sense of authority, pride, heritege. Chief Gunvoy, alpha of the Silver Night pack, was a well respected leader. He lead his pack like he lead his family, with patience, integrity, and discipline. If perfection had a name it would be Dean Gunvoy. He has governed Silver Night for the past 42 years, reestablishing it superiority among the West Virginia packs, minimizing rogue interference, keeping the pack safe from rival pack. The last 5 years of his tenure, he's spent grooming his successor, Weston.

As the oldest of 4, Weston was his father's pride and joy. Standing at 6'6, green eyes like his mother, build like his father, and a heart like Chief Thomas Gunvoy, his grandfather, Dean knew his son would make a great alpha. Weston knew the traditions, could recite the customs by memory, understood diplomacy, wasn't afraid of a fight. The only issue was that Weston was mateless. At 65, Dean was still spry enough to handle pack business, however he was ready to transition out of his role. He was losing his heart. Literally.

Mary Gunvoy, the current Luna, the glue of the Gunvoys and the pack, was having an ongoing battle with pancreatic cancer for the past 15 years. She'd defeated it once before when she was first diagnosed 15 years ago. Mary went to the best doctors money could buy, she underwent extensive treatment to be give a diagnosis of remission. However now, with a body weakened by age and previous treatment, the demon had returned and all hope seemed lost. Dean wanted to spend as much time with his wife as possible without the worry of pack meeting, council reviews, or land acquisitions. After giving his life to the pack for 42 years as it's leader, Dean selfishly wanted these last few years for himself and his love.

Weston understood his fathers desires and however he could help, he was committed to doing so. The issue was that Silver Night customs demanded that all new alphas must be mated before transfer of title. Thus, Weston's plight and sorrow.

As the pair neared the cliffs, the lookout area of their surburban town, Antioch, Weston's thoughts became clouded with his parents predicament. It seemed like a millions questions were running through Wes' mind.

"Yooo! You're going to have to chill!" Jerome complained clinching his head.

Wes turned to his friend and saw his agony, "my bad man."