Page 4 of Black Moon

I groaned, downing the rest of my champagne and setting the flute aside on the tray of another server. If I was going to turn our direction, I needed the leverage of two free hands. “There’s an open bar. Let’s go to where thewineis.”

“You’ve had enough,” Chase practically growled.

With a roll of my eyes—of my entire head—I looked up at him. “There is no such thing asenoughat a gala. Anyway, I meant you like imposing your big bad alpha will on unsuspecting humans, don’t you?”

“Doesn’t work like that.”

Maybe it didn’t. Maybe there was nothing innate about alphas that got them their way outside of a traditional pack setting. Of course, if you went around the world expecting to get everything you wanted, it often worked out that way. It’d been a process of almost three decades, but I was finally getting the hang of it.

And in that spirit, I jerked my head at another nearby waiter, catching his attention just in time to snatch another flute of champagne off his tray. Chase sent me a narrow-eyed glare.

“Don’t worry, big bro,” I said, raising the flute to him before lifting it to my lips. “I’ll take the town car home.”

We all would. There was a requisite Doherty-family post-mortem after any society event.

“I need you to keep your head on straight,” Chase warned once we got far enough away from the main crowd and the bright chandeliers overhead that he thought we were safe to talk. “Dad needs Walsh’s endorsement if he’s going to keep his Senate seat. You can’t go fucking it up.”

That deserved another eye roll if anything ever had. “Walsh is not interested in pissing Dad off. He’s interested in getting laid.”

It was a thing with some humans since werewolves had come out of hiding decades ago. You heard about a big, hot, muscly alpha who’d dominate you in the bedroom, and that sounded like an adventure worth trying.

Or, if you were the dominant type yourself, maybe you got it in your head that you’d like to bend over a boy who got wet between the legs for you, who went into heat and lost their entire fucking minds for your dick.

One quick internet search revealed a veritable mountain of werewolf porn to satisfy every proclivity, and honestly, most of it was in good fun. I didn’t mind the thought of a human finding their way between my legs—or hell, even under me. There was something freeing about shedding those traditional roles that so many wolves fell into upholding.

But when it came to Mr. Walsh, I wanted no part in appeasing him.

“Well, you don’t have to be rude,” Chase corrected.

I arched a brow at him. “We both know father wouldn’t actually tolerate Mr. Walsh’s interest in me if it came to anything real. He’s waiting to push me off on the next alpha who uses their thick skull to break their way into politics.”

“No,” Chase admitted, giving me a thin-lipped once-over. “Walsh is not a suitable mate, but Father does like to keep his connections open.”

I rolled my eyes again. The night wasn’t even halfway through, and they were already starting to ache. “I swear, sometimes I think he’d sell a night with Mom for a shot at a cabinet position.”

A low growl rumbled in Chase’s throat, but Caitlyn had a broad, white smile for both of us as she approached.

Cait, too, was an alpha—and, trust me, Dad took no small amount of pride in siring two alphas before I wiggled my way into the mix. She walked around with a big smile, perfectly coiffed blond hair sprayed so it kept an incredible amount of volume even when it hung straight around her shoulders, and immaculate mascara. Always.

She was Dad’s darling.

“Manners,” she reminded in a sing-song voice. “We can’t have the well-to-do of the district thinking werewolves are anything but charming.”

She looped an arm through Chase’s, and through mine next. “Don’t you think the gala is going incredibly well?” She swept a look around the room.

This was all Mom’s doing, of course. She’d planned the event, had hired staffers capable of putting together such a fete.

Tonight, we were raising awareness, and a significant chunk of change, for the Condition—the mysterious deterioration of omega werewolves everywhere. It broke her heart, she said, after being blessed with three wonderful children, to think omegas were suffering now.

“So well. Mom did a great job,” I said sharply. So far, she’d spent the whole night standing behind Father’s arm while he took credit for all her hard work.

Cait smiled at me. “She sure did.”

She said it like appeasing a child, like even Mom wasn’t really as competent an adult as the lowliest alpha, even though she was, you know,our mother.

That was all Dad’s influence for sure, and that mark hit home as the microphone at the front podium of the large ballroom crackled and Dad stepped up to thank everyone for coming.

“Tonight’s an important night for omegas all across America,” Dad was saying as he stood tall over the podium. Cait ushered us to seats at our round dining table, right in front of the stage. “Through the efforts made by you generous heroes, packs all over our great nation will thank us for their health and stabilization.”

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