Page 1 of Claiming Claire

CHAPTER 1

CLAIRE

I closed my eyes tightly and swallowed hard before placing my hand on my stomach, over the place where the nervous butterflies danced. This was happening. There was no turning back now. Not like I planned to turn back. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. This was my last chance to make my family proud, to prove to my father having a girl wasn’t the biggest mistake of his life.

Get it together, Claire.

“Aren’t you just the cutest thing?” the older woman, Martha, stated as she put in the last pin in my hair, forming a crown with my braided hair. When she was satisfied it would hold, she began to pick up flowers and strategically shimmy them into the crown. “You’ll get picked for sure.”

Deep breaths, Claire. This is what you want. You want to be picked.

I licked my dry lips, “I hope you’re right.”

Martha slapped a hand on my shoulder. “Oh, Honey, of course, I am, look at you! And this dress! It has to be the best one out there tonight.”

I looked down at the tulle and taffeta monstrosity I was wearing. It was the best of the worst options, the only thing I could afford at the second-hand store that would work for this occasion. I could only hope they looked past the hideous dress and saw me for what I was.

Desperate.

I was desperate. Which is why I applied for Pack Match without my father’s knowledge. I needed out from under his thumb, I needed freedom, I needed the validation that my life mattered so much more than my father believed.

“Have they explained how this works? Once payment is submitted, there is no turning back. You are bought and paid for,” Martha elaborated.

“I understand.” I understood completely that once their money hit my account, I was considered my new husband’s goods. I had to abide by their house rules, live the life they choose for me. Not like that was any different than the life I was forced to live inside the walls of my father’s den.

Someone poked their head into the room alerting us it was time, and all the surrounding girls giggled nervously as they chattered about what their future husband might be like and sent up prayers for a handsome new husband who knew how to please. I wanted to roll my eyes at the ideocracy of it all. I just wanted freedom while all these women could think about was their future husband’s cock.

After lining up, we were led to a stage with lights so bright I had to squint. After my eyes adjusted, I stared out into the sea of men standing below, looking at the woman on stage with hungry eyes and possessive gleams.

You can do this, Claire. You’ve come too far to back down now.

By too far, I meant the money I secretly saved to pay the fees for the background check and application required to be accepted into Pack Match. Not to mention the deception to my family, the sneaking out during the dark and leaving them nothing they could use to find me. They couldn’t find me, at least not until everything was official and my father couldn’t use his power in his pack to control me.

The microphone squeaked before the speaker tapped it and spoke, “Gentlemen, can I have your attention, please?” There was a pause while the crowd lowered their voice right before the room went silent. “Gentlemen, I want to thank you all for coming out today and participating in this round of Pack Match. Each lady you see before you has gone through rigorous evaluations and should hopefully meet your satisfaction. Take a good look at these ladies because, in just a few moments, I’m going to ask them to put on their blindfolds then I will invite you to get a closer look and maybe spark up a conversation. When your choice has been made, write the number that matches your woman on your ballot and place it in the box along with your highest offer. We will sort through the ballots and announce the winners later this evening before our traditional marriage ceremony. Once your money transfers to the ladies’ Pack Match account, they are officially yours. Remember, that money is theirs to keep and is no longer under pack control.”

There was a round of acknowledgments from the surrounding men before the woman turned toward all the females on stage. “Ladies, go ahead and place your blindfolds on and remember, no peeking.”

With shaking hands and sweaty palms, I lifted my blindfold to my eyes and covered them. Then I secured the blindfold in place with the attached satin ribbon. When all the women had their blindfolds fastened, the men were given the go-ahead to move forward and examine the woman on stage. With my sight gone, the nearing footsteps seemed to ricochet through the room, and I stood straight, trying to remain calm as they neared closer.

The first few men strolled by me slowly, and I was thankful they hadn’t stopped to question me. A few others passed, making verbal notions about my height, hair, body shape before I heard their pencils scrape against the paper.

God, please don’t let me get stuck with these pigs.

I didn’t think this through. I mean, I did, but obviously not enough. Because now, standing here with all eyes judging me, I realized the potential existed that I had put myself in a much worse situation. Men shifters outnumbered the females eight to one, it’s a known fact. Women were in high demand. How did I not consider the repercussions of my actions?

“Blackwell,” a deep voice said thoughtfully, “As in Clay Ridge . . . Blackwell?” I bit my lip and nodded, not trusting my voice to speak. “I was unaware that Blackwell had a daughter. Laden, did you know Blackwell had a daughter?”

I felt the presence of another man step forward. “I’ve heard rumors, but no one has really seen his child, so it was just that . . . a rumor.”

I felt a finger run down my cheek and the deep voice spoke again, “But you very much are real, aren’t you . . .?” There was a pause as paper rustled, the man no doubt reading my name, “Claire.”

I nodded again as he took my chin in his hand, tilting my head to get a better look. “You look like your mother, has anyone ever told you that? You’re fucking lucky there, that’s for sure. Your father is an ugly bastard. Does he know you’re here, sweetheart?”

I wanted to shake my head, but my chin was still firmly in his grip, “N-no.”

“I’ll be damned. Gabriel, what are the odds that this is a bad idea?”

A voice spoke up from my right, “It’s the absolute worst possible idea, I would advise against it.”

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