Page 8 of Bonded Beyond Trickery

It all came down to faith in the witch who created the spell.

“It worked,”my wolf assures me and pulls me out of my thoughts.

Even though the Blood Moon Pack’s packhouse is grand, I’m not intimidated when we pull up to it. Crew and Tristan were friends even before they became Alphas of their packs which means I spent time in Blood Moon while I was growing up.

The moment we step out of the SUV, I take a deep breath, trying to discern if my mate has arrived already. My gut clenches when I realize that I don’t scent him on the air even though I have no right to be upset about it.

“He’ll be here. Soon,”my wolf assures me.

I can only swallow hard and follow Crew and Elodie around the packhouse to the backyard which has been transformed into an intimate, luxurious space reminiscent of a ballroom even though it’s being bathed in the light of the moon.

Considering the number of unmated wolves who will be in attendance and how much nature means to me, having the ball outdoors makes sense. To someone who doesn’t know about our true nature, seeing so many people dressed to the nines, but outside under the stars, might look strange. For us, it’s natural.

I’m barely hanging on as I follow behind Crew and Elodie blindly. There could be a circus going on around me and I’d have no idea. All I can think about is seeing my mate soon.

My mate.

The man I used witchcraft to avoid.

The man who was made for me.

The man who may hate me forever for my choices.

Rejection doesn’t happen often, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility. We are only granted one mate by the Moon Goddess, which means we only have one chance at a mate, a true mate bond.

With rejection comes a lot of pain. You can’t have something tied to your very soul, put there by the Goddess herself, and not experience pain when it’s ripped from you.

“He won’t reject us,”my wolf snarls, but I can hear the uncertainty laced in her words.

A hand on my arm makes me jump and I turn my wide, and probably wild eyes, to Elodie. Her eyebrows are pulled together with concern clear written across her features.

She whispers, “Are you okay?”

I swallow hard and steel myself to spin some bullshit. The way her eyes harden as she searches my face tells me that I won’t be able to get away with it. Not this time.

With a quick glance around, I pull Elodie around the far side of the packhouse and far enough away from everyone at the ball so no one will hear us. Hopefully. The last thing I need is for the shame of what I’ve done, even if I was doing what I needed to do for myself at the time, be shared far and wide.

My voice is hoarse as the words rush from me, “Five years ago, I went to my first mating ball not long after I turned 18. I knew I wanted to go to college, but my parents always told me that because of my Alpha genes that it was highly likely I’d bemated to an Alpha to become his Luna. It was a lot of pressure when all I wanted was to go to college. I wanted to find a way to contribute to the pack beyond being mated into a position of power.”

Elodie’s touch is soft and understanding. “That’s understandable. You should have been able to pursue your dreams.”

I force myself to look into her eyes and shake my head slightly. “You know that’s not how it works for us, not really. It’s far too easy to get lost in the mate bond. I wouldn’t have had a choice anymore. I wanted to be able to make a decision for me before my life became shaped by sacrifice and a pack, especially a pack that I’d be moving to.”

“Okay,” Elodie murmurs. The lack of judgement in her tone, probably because she had no idea about shifters and our culture before finding out she’s mated to Crew, helps to calm me.

See? That’s the power of a Luna. She isn’t even trying and I’m able to find a glimmer of calm even though it feels like I’m trapped in a tempest of emotion and fear.

“I found a witch who gave me a spell that would hide my scent from my mate,” I admit.

Elodie’s eyes widen as she sucks in a sharp breath. I swear the woman doesn’t even breathe for a moment.

“Could you still scent your mate?” Her question is hesitant like she already knows the answer and is dreading it. I nod and she closes her eyes for a moment before grimacing. “You would have met him at that ball?”

“Yes,” I whisper, feeling something broken inside of me, a part of me that has broken with every moment spent apart frommy mate for the last five years, rattle inside of my soul. I swallow hard and tell her the last of it. “I’ve taken the antidote to the spell. I did it on the day we graduated. He’ll be able to scent me now.”

“And you’re worried he’s going to be pissed?” I nod and she sighs. “He might be,” she tells me honestly, the softness in her voice trying to soothe me, “but the mate bond is an amazing thing. Trust in it.” She pauses and something fierce enters her voice, “And be brave.”

I nod slowly and let my best friend, my sister through mating, lead me back to the soft lights and beautifully decorated ball.

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