Page 80 of Chasing The Alpha's Son
I’m even starting to confuse myself with these sports analogies. And Olivia is looking even more tempted, staring at Mia, biting her lip, but she’s not sold just yet.
“Jasper is with her now—he’ll have your back.”
Words I never thought I would say about Jasper, but it’s not untrue. He may push you away, treat you like garbage, but when the shit hits the proverbial fan, he’s somehow always there.
“I don’t know.”
Man, what is it going to take to get this girl to act!? Wait—
“I have an idea,” I say. “One second.”
I run back down to my little group. They’re all looking at me like I’m being weird, which—well, yeah.
“Can I borrow this?” I ask, snatching the thermos from Mason’s hands before he can respond. I jog back up to Olivia and hand it to her.
“Here, offer them some of this. There’s no way you’ll throw a gutter ball with this.”
“You’re annoyingly persistent,” she says, but I know I’ve beaten her down.
“That’s what they tell me. Now go.”
I give Olivia the gentlest of shoves as she heads up to join Jasper and Mia. At first they’re a little shocked to see her; Mia especially looks quite taken aback. Maybe she’s had the first whiff of her mate. When Olivia holds out the flask, Mia smiles and takes it graciously, and the two of them fall easily into conversation. Jasper glances back in my direction and nods ever so subtly, acknowledging that I’ve helped his friend.
Falling back to my group, I’m met with confused glances yet again.
“What’s going on?” Katie whispers into my ear.
“Sometimes you just have to be persistent,” I say and grin.
The wind has dropped away and the night is calm when we reach Wolf Point. The sky remains overcast, gray clouds hanging so low I think I could touch them, but stepping into the circle I suddenly feel warm. Like I’m standing in front of a roaring fire. I whip off my mittens and unzip my coat.
Quietly we move around the circle, feeling the lunar energy crackling like static between us. We really are closer to the moon here. Morven has stepped up onto the central rock where we left our offerings. There’s no sign of the pile of gifts. Did someone come and collect them or…? No, that’s ridiculous—they probably just blew away.
“Wolves!” Morven speaks, and we gather around him. “The blood moon is a symbol, a sign, representing the blood we share with all the wolves across the globe. Tonight every pack is joined by our connection to the moon.”
That he’s neglected to include rogues in his definition of “all the wolves” doesn’t escape me.
“So as we wait in the hope that these clouds will part and the moon will bless us with her presence, take a moment to remember your family, your pack, and open your mind to the wolves of other packs. Despite the boundaries that separate us, we are one pack in the eyes of the Moon Gods. One pack under the moon.”
At the end of the speech, all eyes are on the clouds. How cool would it be if, after Morven’s declaration that we’re all one pack, the clouds rolled away and we were bathed in red moonlight? Only that doesn’t happen. Morven steps quietly down and we mill around the space.
Some of the older wolves move to the stones and place their hands against them, heads bowed, eyes closed, lips twitching in silent prayer.
Others stand facing out onto the mountain range, feet planted, palms forward, ready to accept the blessing of the moon the second she shows up.
But she doesn’t show up—at least not for the next hour or so.
After wandering around for a bit, then chatting with Katie, I head toward the edge of the circle and sit. It’s like sitting at the Earth’s end. I pull my knees up to my chest and stare at the low-hanging clouds. Morven’s words echo in my mind.
I can’t get past the way he excluded rogues when he was talking about all wolves being connected. Because we have to be, right? Connected to them in some way. Just because they don’t have a pack doesn’t mean they aren’t still wolves. And then I start thinking about the connections between wolves, because when you break it down, what separates me from any other wolf on the planet?
I’m an Elite Pack wolf, but why? Because of where I was born? Because my parents are? Because years ago some alpha won a war and claimed our territory and gave us a name.
If what Jasper said is true and our territory is under threat, what’s to stop us from being conquered? What pack would we belong to then? Would we be rogues? And would that change who my friends are? My family? My mate?
It’s all made-up. Someone named us the Elite Pack, someone called this the Rocky Pack, they called the people without homes rogues and left them in the shadows of the valley.
And then there’re the new connections I’ve been making—to Mason, Mia, Olivia. Off to my left, Mia is leaning against a boulder while she chats with Olivia. They haven’t stopped talking since Olivia went to offer her hot chocolate, so that’s going well. Mason is laughing with one of his friends form the Rocky Pack; he looks happy and relaxed. And I realize that even though we’re different from other wolves, and from each other, we’re connected in our otherness.
