Capítulo 7: Chapter Seven
By the time Lucas arrives at California airport, he is both thoroughly exhausted and wired. The trip had been far longer and slower than he would have liked, making his anxiousness far worse and his body more jittery, causing his foot to bounce up and down so quickly on the flight that Jasper had stared at him.
"I think you could use a bit of liquid courage, Luke" His best friend had said cheerfully, sipping at a small glass filled with dark liquid. He was attired far nicer than Lucas, as always, in dark Prada slacks and a white button-down with the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his Vera Wang dress jacket tossed over the back of his chair casually. His hair was roguishly tussled, as if he hadn't a care in the world, but Lucas knew personally Jasper had spent almost an hour on his hair before they had left for the airport.
"I don't need to show up to the ball drunk, Jas" Lucas had retorted, annoyed. "You know I'm not a drinker."
Jasper had given him a devilish grin and downed the rest of his drink. His breath already reeked of alcohol, even though it was only ten in the morning. "No, no, especially not since the night we got foxed in the woods by the Pack House and you were too drunk to shift back. I don't think those hikers had ever seen a drunken wolf before." He laughs at Lucas's glare now as they depart the plane, walking to the terminal. "Oh don't be like that, Luke. Try to relax. You're more jittery than a nudist in the winter."
Lucas takes a deep breath through his nose, trying for patience, as they retrieved their luggage, Jasper of whom has nearly four suitcases packed to the brim. "I can't relax, Jasper. I don't think you quite grasp the gravity of the situation."
"I never grasp anything, dear Lucas, except for a cold glass. Among other, more scandalous, things."
The corner of Lucas's mouth tilts up despite his nerves. No matter his terrible mood, Jasper can always be counted on to make him smile, though he knows Jasper only jokes now to distract him from the tense atmosphere that currently surrounds them. Lucas had hoped on the plane that it had only been his nerves, that he would feel calmer as the journey came to an end, but no such luck. Instead, the pressure in his chest feels as if it is only continuing to build, slowly crushing his lungs and stealing his breath.
It is such a foreign feeling that he feels off balance, wobbly. In all things, even when he has been nervous, Lucas has never felt such a tense and suffocating atmosphere and he tries to shake off the building worry coursing through his veins. He knows like he knows how to breathe that Jasper can sense his anxiety building.
They only it two feet past the glass front doors of the airport, however, before finding their path blocked by a towering beast of a man, dressed in a worn grey suit straining to cover bulging muscles and a thick neck lined with veins. A driver's cap sits awkwardly a top his unruly dark hair and Lucas is distinctly reminded of a burly mountain man with no formal obligations to eat humans if the need arose. "Mr. Knight? Mr. Bloom?" He asks in a deep voice, a scowl carved into the harsh lines of his mouth. Several scars peek from beneath his uniform. "I am your chauffeur. I will be escorting you to the hotel."
It is more a command than a polite statement and Lucas sees Jasper arch an eyebrow. "And hopefully to the bar?" Jasper asks hopefully, remarkably straight-faced.
The man only stares at them with an expression carved from ice, though annoyance flares in his dark eyes. Before Jasper can be made into a shish kebab by the beast of a man, Lucas hurriedly steps forward, trying for respect. "Yes, I am Lucas Knight and this is Jasper Bloom. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"Follow me" The driver says curtly before turning and leading them out to a sleek black car, where he promptly loads their suitcases and shuts the door behind them very firmly. Lucas hears the doors all lock in unison as the driver climbs into the front seat.
Beside him, Jasper gives Lucas a puzzled glance but before he can question the driver's odd behavior, the car jerks to a start on their journey, speeding off down the busy streets through downtown California. Upfront, Lucas hears the driver speak into a headset, his deep voice quiet and authoritative. "Car three is now in route to the hotel; both objectives have been acquired."
So the driver is not human. He must be been a member of a nearby by pack helping in security measures, though Lucas can not help but feel annoyed by the man's coldness. It isn't as if Lucas or Jasper would suddenly shift and try to tear each other apart.
Jasper seems to be having the same thought. "He's a pip, isn't he?" He remarks quietly. "Great big marshmallow in reality, I bet."
Lucas rolls his eyes and turns to look out the window. "I will not be joining you in the effort to find out." Though Jasper had given him some light relief with a few clever jokes, his anxiety is rising once again as the road flies away from the tires of the car, bringing him closer and closer to the hotel, the ball, and his mate. Few details have been given in regards to the set up of the ball or even their arrival. Will his mate already be at the hotel when he arrives? Will he be able to tell? Will he be able to sense her, even far off , as no doubt the males and females would be kept apart from each other? What if he finds her before the ball? Will she be able to sense him? Will she even want him?
Before leaving that morning, his father had pulled him aside and given him a sturdy hug. "You will be incredible, son" Alpha Johnathan had told him warmly. So proud. So confident. If his father could have seen the fear, the anxiousness, the exhaustion in his son, would he have still been proud? His mother had been far more comforting, pulling him in for a soft gentle hug, laying a hand on his cheek as she pulled back, tears glistening in her eyes. "It is okay to be afraid, Lukie" She had whispered, so quietly no one would be able to hear and realize his shameful emotions. "No matter what happens, we will be here for you." She hadn't said anything about making the pack proud or expecting greatness from him. In his mother's eyes, Lucas was already great and in her words he had sensed the truth: no matter what happened, even if he came home alone, rejected and humiliated, or with a mate he hadn't expected or hoped for, his parents would still be there. They would still love and support him and his choices.
Lucas tries to hold that memory in his mind as the car continues moving closer and closer to its destination, finally arriving after almost two hours to a large and beautiful brick manor. He feels his heart begin to pound as the car begins to pull up the drive and he notices Jasper looking at him from the corner of his eye, reaching to lay a hand on Lucas's shoulder.
"It will be okay, Luke" His best friend says quietly, unusually serious. Lucas glances at him to see Jasper's expression is hard like stone, his gaze moving from Lucas to the hotel outside, his spine straight and his shoulders thrown back. Preparing himself, as Lucas is attempting to do.
He manages a deep breath as the car pulls to a stop, feeling as if his heart might burst from his chest any minute, his head light and dizzy and his thoughts all a sea of nonsense. Never in his life has he felt such nerves. Is it normal for his palms to be sweating so much? He hurriedly tries to compose himself. He is the next Alpha of the great and powerful Ileana pack. There is much to be expected of a Knight and Lucas knows all eyes will be on him, now more than ever, sizing up the son of the great Alpha Johnathan. Especially his mate.
As the door opens for he and Jasper, he runs a hand through his hair and straightened the wrinkles from his shirt, schooling his expression into one of someone of grace and importance: calm, almost bored, as if he deals with much scarier events every day. As if nothing could dare bother someone so confident. Stepping from the car, Lucas is immediately struck by the lack of other people. There are no other cars, no other males arriving and unloading their luggage. Lucas frowns. Are he and Jasper late? He is sure they have arrived on time, if not early.
"Gentlemen" a cool voice speaks.
Lucas and Jasper turn to see a tall, willowy man awaiting them atop the front steps. He is intimidatingly lithe and handsome despite his apparent age, his silver hair elegantly swept back from his face, posture perfect and hands folded behind his back as he stares at them with disturbing yellow eyes. Lucas is sure he has to be at least fifty or sixty, but there is not a single wrinkle or wart, not a single swollen knuckle or untrimmed facial hair. He is dressed in a suit an expensive butler might wear, all black and white satin hemmed and fitted exactly to frame.
In his hand, he holds a long roll of yellowed parchment, which he examines for another moment before looking up to meet Lucas and Jasper's gazes. "Welcome. Mr. Knight and Mr. Bloom. I am Mr. Bridgeton and I will be in charge of all events throughout this time and will be the director of any and all of your requests and questions. There will be a tour held in the next few days but in the meantime, you will be taken to your rooms and you will not be allowed to leave. The East Wing is strictly forbidden under all circumstances-"
"Why are we not allowed to leave our rooms?" Jasper asks abruptly. The annoyance in his tone is thinly veiled and Lucas fights a groan. "Are we changing things up and the princes have to be locked away in a tower before the ball? Very modern, I have to say, but also very annoying."
Mr. Bridgeton seems momentarily perplexed by Jasper's attitude, then schools his expression. "All of the females are already in residence in the East Wing. They, too, have been given strict instructions not to visit the West Wing or leave their rooms, save to visit each other. This is a unswayable rule, as we do not want any males or females running amuck and accidentally, or purposely, meeting their new before the ball. And we find that..." He hesitates. "The females do not have as difficult a time staying away. Now that everyone is arriving, some may begin to feel the effects of the bond they share with their mate, even if they haven't met or seen them yet. Not even a fraction of the true bond, mind you, but you may begin to feel strange things that may draw you to act in ways your normally wouldn't."
Lucas barely hears the rest of Mr. Bridgeton's speech. She's here. The realization hits him so hard he swears it could have knocked him off of his feet. His mate is in the hotel. His mate is close. She is here. Possibly only a floor or two away.
A strange feeling behind to spread throughout Lucas's body, so soft and subtle he almost does not even realize it's presence. As if it is something that has always been apart of him, waiting in secret until this very moment, though he would not know how to describe it if it tried. Something both electric and warm, calm and also surprisingly energetic, very similar to the feeling of cold liquid spreading out one's body after inserting an IV. Only this feeling was something deeper, instinctual and burning within him, taking away every other thought and action possible in his mind.
The mate bond. It could be nothing else. Lucas swallows, trying desperately to get ahold of his more primal urges, though his eyes begin to travel to the upper floors of the manor, studying the windows. What if his mate can sense him as well and she, too, feels so pulled towards him?
Mr. Bridgeton nods as he takes in Lucas's expression, eyes suddenly hardening a little. Jasper stares as if Lucas has grown three heads. "Yes, yes it can be a bit overwhelming." Looking over Lucas's head, he snaps his fingers twice. "Coryo," He says commandingly.
The driver from Lucas's and Jasper's suddenly appears at Jasper's shoulder. "Bloody hell!" Jasper exclaims.
"See Mr. Knight and Mr. Bloom to their rooms" Mr. Bridgeton commands with high authority. "Mr. Knight is beginning to feel a few side effects, have someone stationed at his door."
"That will not be necessary" Jasper interrupts, clearly annoyed. He takes a subtle yet determined step in front of Lucas. "I will be staying with Mr. Knight and will make sure he doesn't wander off."
"I'm not a child" Lucas mutters, though the irritation in his voice is weaker than he meant it, a vast majority of his mind still distracted by the warm rushing in the back of his head.
Mr. Bridgeton ignores him and focuses on Jasper with a narrowed eye. His smile is abruptly condescending, sickly sweet, and he eyes Jasper with a sense of thinly veiled distaste. "And how could we expect you to keep an eye on your friend, Mr. Bloom, when you yourself may get swept away in the premature feelings of a mate bond?"
Jasper raises an eyebrow and Lucas prepares himself for a fight. Jasper has never taken anyone questioning him well, especially in regards to the topic of mates. Lucas prepares himself to step forward, to shake off his strange and alluring high, but Jasper only gives Mr. Bridgeton a sarcastic smile, a dangerous glint in his startling grey eyes. "It will not be a problem, seeing as I have no mate, Mr. Bridgeton. I unfortunately am destined to be alone, spending my lonely nights in the woeful company of beautiful men and women drinking themselves silly and waking up in a nude pile the next morning. A pile Mr. Coryo, by the way-" Jasper eyes the muscular driver with a leer- "is more than welcome to join."
A tense moment of silence passed as Mr. Bridgeton chokes in surprise and outrage swelling red. "Well- I-how dare-"
Fearing a possible stroke, Lucas jumps to intervene, roughly shoving Jasper behind him. "My apologies, Sir. My friend here is a Single. He is merely here to accompany me. I am sure it will be most helpful to have him in an accompanying room so that he will help-" Lucas grits his teeth- "keep me in line."
Behind him, Jasper looks as if he is about to wet himself.
Mr. Bridgeton, clearly unsatisfied with such an answer, continues to sputter in protest for a moment before turning to notice another incoming car. He huffs snootily and straightens his jacket, waving a hand at Coryo. "Fine, fine, go. Take them."
Coryo begins to herd Lucas and Jasper into the foyer.
Lucas shoots Jasper a glare. "Must you always cause trouble wherever you go?"
Jasper stares at him in horror, offended. "Of course! Why even ask such a thing?" ~*~*
The room they are escorted to is quite luxurious and spacious, Lucas has to admit. Even better than his own rooms at the Pack House.
"I suppose this will do" Jasper declares airily, glancing around the large living area decorated with tan lush carpet, gold veined ceilings, gold trimmed-walls, antique Victorian coffee table and chase lounge complete with a plasma screen TV and six person velvet couch. He gives an unimpressed glance into the two bedrooms, identical in their California-king size beds, oak-wood Victorian vanities, floor-to-ceiling windows and 72-inch screen TVs. "Though they could have included a pony or two."
Lucas scoffs, rolling his eyes as he tosses his suitcases into one of the two rooms. They do seem quite comfortable, even consisting of two glass doors opening to a wrought-iron balcony outside. He wonders if such lush accommodations are given to every pack member in the hotel, or if it is just another physical symbol of his family's power and the expectations resting on his shoulders.
"So, " Jasper says, leaning against the doorframe into Lucas's room. His jovial mood has vanished as quickly as it had come at Mr. Bridgeton's expense. He suddenly looks very tired and worn, his ever-watchful eyes only on Lucas as he takes in his best friend and future Alpha's expression. "That was an interesting reaction you had a moment ago. Have you been indulging in little spotted mushrooms while I haven't been looking or was that the bond you felt?"
He seems genuinely curious and Lucas wonders if it is because it is something Jasper will never get to experience. Lucas wonders if his friend has ever mourned that. He gives a shrug and sits on the edge of his bed. The strange tingling had ceased as soon as they hit the fifth floor. "I don't know..." He says with a sigh. He flops back onto the bed, exhausted. "I've never felt anything like it. As soon as Bridgeton said she's in the hotel, that she's here-" He breaks off, feeling the weight of those words in the air. "Something came over me."
Jasper nods. His expression remains the same, but Lucas can't help but notice something shift in his eyes, something hidden behind the rich color there. "What did it feel like?"
Lucas stares at the ceiling. For a moment, he tries to find the words, but there seems to be no explanation for what had come over him. It was sudden, instinctual, there and then gone in the blink of an eye but delicious and warm while it had stayed. There didn't seem to be any words even close enough to describe such a feeling.
Closing his eyes, Lucas allows his mind and body to relax and allows the mental walls he keeps down, allowing Jasper to see into his thoughts. It is still strange to allow another person into his head, even after years of practice and use through the pack telekinetic link. It feels almost like a small wave washing over him, a cool breeze filling the space in his head and he knows that Jasper is watching.
A moment passes before Lucas begins allow the memory to come to the surface and he hears Jasper let out a startled breath, though he can not open his eyes to see his reaction. The memory is almost as overwhelming as it had been in the present- warm, electric. Lucas is surprised to find that the more he experiences such a feeling, he craves more and the urge to leave his room and wander the manor rises once again.
The memory is not yet over but Lucas opens his eyes to watch Jasper, whose eyes are closed as he takes in everything Lucas is showing him. His expression is calm, peaceful, but Lucas knows his friend well enough to see the hidden emotions lurking, to see the sad tilt to Jasper's mouth, the tightening crinkles around his eyes as he remains deep in thought.
"It felt...almost like a rush of Serotonin or Dopamine in the back of my head. Really warm and tingling and....almost like a high" Lucas says quietly as the memory comes to an end and Jasper opens his eyes. He does not say anything but Lucas can not stand the silence, can not stand seeing the faraway look in his friend's eyes. "It felt...better than anything else I've ever felt."
Jasper nods. His voice is oddly flat and empty and he does not meet Lucas's gaze. "That would have to be the bond then. In the few times my father has tried to show me the errors of my ways, he described it similarly. Said that one day I would understand when I felt it."
Only he won't.
Lucas sits up to look at his friend, hearing the tone in his voice. "Jas-" He starts. Regret and guilt immediately force his chest to contract. He should not have shown Jasper something he will never have.
But he only shakes his head and pulls on a small smile neither of them believe, cutting off Lucas's apologies. "I'm fine, dear Luke, I'm fine. Don't worry yourself with me. After all, there is a beautiful young lady here in this very hotel waiting for you."
Lucas opens his mouth to argue, to try and comfort his friend, but the expression that suddenly crosses Jasper's face stops him short. In all of their years of brotherhood, there has never been an emotion or expression Jasper had that Lucas could not interpret or read, but the look Jasper wears now is something Lucas has never seen- something sad and broken yet also something hopeful and accepting. A sadness cushioned by some sort of silver lining Lucas can not see.
Despite his guilt and worry, he exhaled and allows Jasper to retreat back into the main sitting room. Only a moment passes before he hears Jasper rummaging around in the minibar, the clink of wine bottles bouncing off the empty walls. ~* Though they can not visit the West Wing, it seems the unmated girls residing in the East Wing have taken the exception that they can visit each other quite seriously.
Though Carter is sure many of them actually didn't know each other before arriving at the hotel, as soon as they are shown their individual rooms, there is a may-lay of activity, girls running to and from each other's rooms, a constant stream of loud chatter bouncing off the walls as they exchange shoes, handbags, makeup, accessories and hair products, asking opinions on everything from hairstyles for the night of the ball to the gowns they would wear to (to Carter's horror) the undergarments that would be worn under them. "Does anyone have any waxing gel?"
"Do these shoes match the dress?" "Is this color too slutty?" "Is a neckline to your naval too subtle?" "Does anyone have any hot pink panties!"
Carter watches all of this in absolute mortification as she is escorted, with the rest of the girls who would be residing on her floor, to her room, trying to discern whether some of these topics are actually serious or if they are just a comical question to bat away oncoming insanity in the face of the nerves of the ball. Already the girls in her group are chatting amongst each other, linking arms and talking as if they have known each other for years, already the best of friends.
Carter tries to force down the rush of shame that fills her as she gazes at all of her companions, so easily welcomed by each other, so confident in themselves and their abilities to make friends. Aside from Joey, she has never had another friend before in her entire life. She had tried, of course, when she was young and small, still vulnerable and hopeful that someday her pack would forgive her and welcome her back with open arms. But as that had never happened, she had remained devoid of girl friends and here she stands, watching the other girls in pastel dresses eye her curiously, the one loner, the weed among roses.
Their gazes had followed her all throughout the tour Mrs. Fuller had led of the estate, first leading them outside to show off marvelous gardens sculpted with hedge mazes and beautiful figures of wolves, bedazzled by crystal tables for cakes and tea and cherry blossom trees filled with pink blooms. After, they had taken a peek at the stables, housing majestic stallions of all heights and colors, in case one felt like riding the cobblestone trails through the small park in the back of the gardens. From there, they had been paraded back into the manor, up and down winding staircases, ogling sitting rooms decorated in pastel flowered wallpapers, gentlemanly parlors in dark colors and rich velvets stocked to the brim with cigars and brandy, and libraries filled with volumes of dusty tomes.
That had been the only room of any interest to Carter, who had been itching to read the cover titles, but was quickly steered out to view a gallery of vivid oil paintings- all wolves of course. She is relieved when she finally (finally!) is brought to her own room, mercifully tucked near the end of her hall, away from all of the noise and chaos. The attendant, in a uniform of a black skirt and apron, a white cap and white gloves covering her hair and hands, who escorted her gives her a sad smile, as if she is truly sorry Carter didn't receive a room in the middle of the hall like the other girls. "So sorry, miss, but this was the only room left."
Carter tries to look put out for the attendant's sake but scurries into the room as fast as she is able, slamming the door before the attendant can even explain when the rest of her luggage will be brought. With a sigh of both relief and exhaustion, she sinks against the closed door, closing her eyes as she tries to block out all of the chatter and noise from outside.
She rests her forehead against her knees and lets out a quiet sigh. The trip alone had been exhausting and stressful and already Carter is ready to go home. Perhaps if she leaves, she could tell her father she went to the ball and was rejected. That was if he even noticed she had come home. Chances were if she left now and hid in her rooms at the Pack House, it would be long after the ball was even over that her father would notice she was back. He would not ask any questions; he would already expect she would come back with no one on her arm. Outside, she hears a particularly shrill voice exclaim, "When do the boys get here?"
Carter winces at the girl's volume but briefly allows herself to wonder the same despite her best interests. Had the boys arrived before they had? No that couldn't be; Joey had gotten on his plane three hours after Carter. He would be arriving for at least another two hours. So would her mate…
Her mate. Carter winces. Despite her nerves and anxiety, it has been easier to focus on that of the ball than the actual prospect of her mate. Never once has she daydreamed like all of the girls outside her room, never once has she pictured what he will look like, what he will act like. The topic has always been a dagger in her heart and Carter has never allowed herself to imagine and fantasies about someone who will no doubt run at first sight of her.
In the few times she has thought of him (whoever he may be) Carter has pictured someone like Garett- someone cruel, cocky and immature, someone she would never want to be with anyone. It is easier to picture her mate that way, instead of someone she could ever actually come to care about.
Still, despite her best efforts, late at night when she can not sleep or has been woken by vicious nightmares, she has found herself thinking of the dreams that once haunted her, the man with the blue eyes…
No, better to focus on other things. Joey- yes, Joey. Carter would have to make this event all about him and his finding of a mate. Surely he would find such a girl here; if only he would stop worrying about her so much. While she knew it was deeply imbedded in Joey to be a protector and a guardian, someone who took the needs and worries of someone else on his back, Carter wanted him to enjoy this experience. It was far more likely than he would leave here with a mate despite his low-ranking pack status. Carter wanted him to be excited, to be nervous, for at least one of them to get to experience what it would feel like to find the one who wanted you as well.
She would have to find him the night of the ball and wear her most convincing smile. She would have to push him to focus on his own mate and his own journey, so that at least one of them would get to enjoy this experience. Growing irritated at all of the ruckus outside, she stands. Carter has never been one to deal well with restlessness, especially while not in motion. Determined to drown out both her inner turmoil and the noise outside, she goes to explore her temporary room.
It is a large and very lush holding, made up of golden-brass carpet, gold-veined marble walls and arched ceilings stretching out over a moderate area for entertaining guests (including a soft Knole sofa, thick Victorian coffee table and grey marble fireplace with a black iron grate) and a master bedroom. The bedroom, is filled made up of a luxurious king-size bed ( complete with jacquard lace canopy in tones of rich burgundy and emerald, flowing around it from atop the ceiling) and antique two-person vanity. However, the gorgeous room is tiny compared to that of the bathroom, stretching into half the size of the entertaining area, complete with antique clawfoot white bathtub, stand-in glass shower, two-person counter holding six pull-out drawers each and a walk-in closet. Carter is sure every girl has been given a similar bathroom, as they would need the space for preparing for the ball, though she is positive it is wasted on her. She has never owned a single dress and hadn't bothered to shop for one. She had planned on arriving to the ball as she is dressed now: plain and shabby but herself. There would be no point in getting dressed up for someone who, Carter is certain, would take one look at her and run when he discovered exactly who she is and her disability and shameful reputation.
Suddenly feeling small and exposed in the vast space of the bathroom, she ducks out and moves back into the living area, tucking herself back against the wall into the corner. Here, pressed against the wall and legs tucked to her chest, she feels as if she can breath. Somehow, it is easier to be smaller here, to go unnoticed as she always has, to hide away from all that overwhelms her. Gazing at all of the beauty and grandeur of the room, she suddenly wishes she had packed more of her clothes and blankets just so she could toss them over the floor and furniture as she does with her rooms at home, to hide away from all of the beauty and expectations laid at her feet. Instead, she lays her head back against the wall and closes her eyes.
There is a storm brewing deep within, a swirl of emotions Carter can't discern apart from anger, anxiety, fear, and exhaustion. She is angry, furious, at being forced to come here and go through all of this nonsense when everyone is certain just as well as she that thanks to her reputation and the blame she faces for the death of her mother not a single person, mate or not, would want her within their world. She is anxious because she has never done well being forced to sit and wait when there is nothing else she could do but wait for the damnable future. There is fear because, above all else, she does not want to face any more rejection. She does not want to face any more hardship. And finally, she is simply exhausted. Exhausted by her life, exhausted by who she is and who she has failed to be. Exhausted because for the rest of her life, no matter what she does, it will never be enough for the one day in her life she can never take back. A woman's screams- the metallic scent of blood in the air- the howls of the damned dragging her away as she screamed for Carter to run-
She jolts back, slamming into the wall, angry tears welling. This can not be the rest of her life. It will not be the rest of her life. She suddenly thinks of her father and what will become of him if she fails. She thinks of sleezy Garret and his taunts over what will become of her when he becomes Alpha. She thinks of Joey who, though he loves her more than anyone besides her mother ever had, will only be dragged down by his friendship with her and will never be able to focus on his own life as long as she remains in it. Even now, at the most important event of his life where he could potentially find the love of his life, he will be worried for her. It seems that in every scenario, Carter is the problem. That if she was simply removed from it all, everything for everyone she cares for would finally be solved.
Slowly lifting her head, she meets her own gaze in the floor length mirror across from her.
For a stranger, she is sure it would be difficult to pinpoint her exact age. Though she is small, she is also extremely pale and thin, the skin stretched taunt over scant muscles and protruding bone. Her eyes, the one thing she truly inherited from her mother, though beautiful in color, are dull, hollow, filled with a sort of lifeless anger and hung with pale purple crescent moons. Her hair is wild and unbrushed and her lips are pale and chapped, cracking along the corners.
She does not look like a child of the Moon Goddess, though she does not appear quite human either. There is too much anger, too much exhaustion. Carter wonders if the feral pain in her gaze is as evident to her as it is to others and if it scares them the way it does her.
She thinks of her mother, watching her from the After with shame. She thinks of her father, who can not look at her because of her weakness. She thinks of Joey, who has alienated himself from the rest of the pack by publicly aligning himself with her.
Maybe, after it is all over, she will leave. Go off into the mortal world and become a human, as some of the rogues do. No matter what she does now, she will be continually rejected, both by her mate and all of their community. No mate will want her, as their social culture has deemed her an object of shame and ridicule. That is a pain she will have to face. But what about after? No one said she had to return home. No one will be there waiting for her. Her father would find it a relief more than likely, as he would not have to be reminded of his dead mate anymore. He would most likely be challenged by Garret when Garret's father stepped down as Beta and Garret took the title but Garret would not be cruel to her father without Carter there to suffer for it. He would surely fall to a very low rank but he would live well within the pack. He would no longer face ridicule from the rest of the pack, who would also be relieved about Carter's departure.
She would not miss being a wolf as those of rogues, who were thrown from their packs because of terrible crimes. She had lived her whole life nearly as a human already. It would not be so hard to adjust to a new life. She had almost finished high school. She could work and go to a community college, find a job perhaps and a small apartment. She would not live well but she would live.
The only person who would be truly affected would be Joey. Joey. Oh how heartbroken he would be. But perhaps after all of this was over, he would have mate on his arm, a future bride, who would ease that pain. The idea of Joey finding someone to replace her as she had previously worried is still painful, but perhaps it would become a pain Carter could bare if it meant giving him a better life. One without the pain of her being in it.
It is a hollow plan, one without any real merit, but it is still nice to dream of. For a moment Carter imagines herself in the human world, back at the cafe she had seen during the drive to the manor. She imagined herself free to travel, free to have a career. Free to have a new life. Free, perhaps, to one day share it with someone. Human males would most likely still find her speaking disability a little odd but nothing so shameful as to outright reject a relationship.
But no, Carter is probably too jaded for such things. Best to focus on herself in this innocent little fantasy. Though the more she thinks of it, she begins to wonder if one day it is a fantasy that may come true. ~*~*
Dark halls. Dark walls. Dark windows, their weakening rays of sunlight filtering through lace curtain and shadow, filling the dim office with dancing black specters and hollow memories. It is nearly nightfall. The Pack House is all but silent but to the ears of the great Alpha Soren, the silence sounds booming, overwhelming in its emptiness. The Alpha sits before his large and imposing desk, papers scattered here and there, ignored reports flung carelessly to the side. A small glass filled empty of ice and dark liquid sits by his open palm, already twice refilled and drained. The decanter, only a quarter full now, sits tucked against his hip against his chair, the top forgotten on the floor. Both his shirt front and his breath reek of alcohol. Strong alcohol.
Finally giving in, Alpha Soren tosses the small glass aside and instead takes a long swig from the glass decanter. He gives a harsh sigh, running a calloused hand through his thinning hair and closing his eyes. His thoughts are a mix of drunken depression and sluggishness, his body exhausted but his mind far too stubborn to finally let his grief and guilt settle. No, he is far too damned for sleep in his position.
He places the decanter on the desk with a heavy thud and leans back into his chair, staring up at the ceiling if only to avoid the pictures along the wall, watching, judging. If only to avoid torturous thoughts that always creep at the edge of his mind, whispering, hissing, demanding his suffering and attention. They are never far away, since his beloved died. And in a way, his daughter.
His daughter. His dear sweet little girl, who he has failed so miserably with his weakness and cowardice. His daughter, who he had sent off on a suicide mission to earn favor from other packs who would no doubt spit on her name, to try and earn the heart of a man who would never love her. Because of him. Because of him and his selfishness. So many times he had wanted to pull himself together, to march to his daughter's room and hug her, beg for her forgiveness though he did not deserve it and knew she would never give it to him for not defending her against their own people, for not comforting her in the death of her mother, for not even so much as looking at her in the past thirteen years.
He is no father. He is a failure and a coward. What would his darling Cordelia say to him from the After, watching him with remorse and anger at how he has treated their child.
Cordelia. It has been thirteen years but still just the name of his dead mate is so agonizing that it feels as if Alpha Soren will suffocate, the air stolen from his lungs as fire races down his veins, a boulder of memories and anger and tears crushing his chest and his spirit until he has no will left to breathe, let alone stand. It is the grief of a human magnified by one hundred fold, to lose a soul mate.
Humans, Soren had heard, describe it often as losing a hand or a leg but still somehow thinking it is there or feeling it. But to Soren, it is as if his entire body is gone, leaving only a head and a dead heart wrought with depression and unbearable pain. It is not only losing a person but losing a connection deeper than one would ever truly know or understand but would feel so deep within themselves that it is stronger than the instinct to breathe, for a heart to keep beating.
The day his beloved died, was the day everything went black. The sky turned black, the sun turned black, the faces around him turned black. Even his own daughter, whose name he changed because he dared not speak her given name, for fear he would grow to resent or hate her for it. He had thought that by giving his daughter space, by leaving her alone, he would give them both time and space to heal. He would give himself time to mourn so that he would not grow to hate his child for the death of her mother and for how, with every passing day, her face became more and more like her's: soft, delicate. Like that of a fiery angel.
Instead, Soren has ruined her life, shutting her away like an outcast, a freak. He has not defended her when he should have. He has let his own people, his pack members, belittle and blame their future Luna for Cordelia's death. He has allowed them to take their grief and hatred out on her. If he had spoken up as soon as the incident had happened, if he had had the strength after losing his mate, he could have declared Carter a miracle in disguise for surviving, a true warrior no longer with a mother to guide her, someone to be pity for her loss but never her spirit or who she truly is. He could have helped her through her grief, helped her to regain her speech and shifting maybe through therapy of some kind or just his support, possibly revered to be one of the strongest Lunas that ever existed, admired for her strength, wanted by all.
Instead, she is off at a ridiculous ball, hated by all those there, soon to be rejected for a reputation she does not deserve, for one he has given her for all of his weakness and pride. But maybe not so ridiculous. He is sure some small part of him, in truth, is biased. After all, it is where he had meat his own mate. His own beautiful heart's half. He takes a breath and places his head in his hands. He can only hope his child, his beautiful daughter Cordelia, named so after her beautiful mother, will have such luck. ~*~*
The next day dawns annoyingly bright and cheerful, waking Carter up to an already rotten mood. Woken by the brilliant rays of sunlight streaming through the windows and lace of her master room, she hides in the intoxicating comfort of her borrowed bed, stubbornly refusing to leave the safety of her warm and heavy blankets. The night before, a part of her had longed to be hard-headed and sleep in the floor, refusing the luxury of a place that she clearly did not belong in. But, faced with the prospect of such a large and warm bed, a place Carter had long come to associate with peace and safety, she had given in, wanting to moan at the plush mattress and expensive material of the blankets. She was sure every son and daughter of an Alpha had had such posh accommodations back home in their own rooms but Carter, who no longer speaks to her father and has never been able to, has not requested such things as she has got older.
"Does anyone have any flat ironing spray!"
Carter groans internally and pulls a pillow over her face, trying to block out all of the noise. Ever since the rise of the sun, the noise from the previous day has doubled, girls darting in and out of each other's rooms, calling for maids, and scrambling to get ready for the afternoon's garden party, desperate to make their best impression on the other girls to strength their relationships with other packs. After witnessing how quickly the girls in her hall had become chummy and giggling, she is sure it would be a festival of gossip, swapping social medias, drooling over potential mates, and eyeing the weird girl who can't talk. Carter, however, is determined not to go. The only event that truly matters is the ball, where she will face the rejection of her mate, and then this will all be over. There is no point going to frilly garden parties and dinners and tea parties to impress popular cheerleaders, straight A debate team leaders and beautiful pack daughter debutantes.
But you would have been one, a tiny voice in the back of her head whispers. If your mother hadn't died. You would have been impressive and accomplished like those girls. You would been one of them.
She immediately shoves the thought away. To think of her mother is always torture, trying to remember a beautiful and comforting soul that brought an unspeakable amount of safety and warmth, no longer for this world and no longer for Carter. To try and imagine what it would have been like had her mother still been alive on this day, so excited for her to find a mate, both of them going shopping for a ball gown, her reassuring Carter with comforting words as they hugged and parted ways-
Everything would have been different. She would have been the Alpha's daughter everyone desired, including a mate soon to reject her. It is best not to open that door, however, because if she does, she will start to want things she would never be able to have: a dead mother brought back to life, the love of a father who can not even look at her, maybe even to know what it would feel like to actually be accepted by a mate and be in love... Angry at herself for the weakness she is allowing herself, Carter groans internally and throws a pillow at the wall with a thud, just as a quiet knock sounds somewhere deep from within the doors at the front door. "Ms. Dawson?" An even quieter, shy voice calls.
Carter sighs. Her quick-spun plan to hide in her blankets and not answer the door has already flown out the window. Dragging herself from the bed, still dressed in her holey jeans and sweatshirt from the day before, she makes her way into the entertaining area, where a small girl dressed in a demure servant's uniform stands, platinum hair tucked up into a simple white cap.
"Oh" The girl says, clearly startled by Carter's messy appearance and grumpy frown. She falls into an awkward curtsy. "I'm sorry to have woken you, miss. All the other girls have been up for hours." She straightens. "I have been sent to assist you in getting ready for this afternoon's garden party."
Carter frowns, confused. She has not asked anyone for help in readying herself for any of the events, as she hasn't even been planning on going. She begins to shake her head that she requires no help, frankly planning on biting the girl if she tries, before the girl takes a folded piece of paper from her skirts.
"Oh, and this is from your brother" She says meekly. "We are forbidden from allowing the men and women from communicating, but as he knew you by your first and last name and assured me-" She blushes very deeply and won't meet Carter's gaze- "he was your brother, I made an exception." She hands Carter the note. "Would you like to begin getting ready?"
But Carter is no longer paying her any attention, staring at the unfolded note in her hands, caught between amusement and irritation. Sunshine, Take the girl's help. Don't cower away in your room. Now is the time to show them that you are a force to be reckoned with. Try not to bite the girl; she's already pretty flustered from my charms. Joey Carter fights a smile. Stubborn, nosy Joey. Of course he would be thinking of her, knowing she would be hiding away, refusing to come out. And how clever of him to use his charms and claim to be her brother, knowing he would never be able to contact her otherwise. No one who would actually be her mate would know her first and last name yet. "So," The maid says awkwardly. "Would you like to get ready?"
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