Page 51 of Howling Mad
“As I’ll ever be.”
We enter arm in arm, greeted immediately by Red herself, resplendent in a crimson gown.Her hair is piled atop her head in an elaborate structure, and she looks regal.“My stars have arrived.”She enfolds us both in a perfume-heavy embrace.“Everyone is dying to meet my most challenging success story.”
“Challenging?”I raise an eyebrow.
“Darling, you were the Mount Everest of matchmaking.”Red pats my cheek.“A corporate wolf, who allergically sneezes on dates and works in finance?Lesser matchmakers would have retired in defeat.”She turns, waving expansively at the crowded ballroom.“But I knew exactly what you needed.”
“A matchmaker with a gambling problem who needed to meet her quota?”Finley suggests innocently.
Red laughs, swatting her arm.“Cheeky.Now come, circulate.The formal recognition ceremony begins at nine.Until then, enjoy the open bar and the stuffed mushroom caps.They’re shaped like little paw prints, adorable and only slightly disturbing.”
She swirls away in a cloud of crimson, perfume, and enthusiasm, leaving us at the edge of the crowd.Servers circle with trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres.The room glitters with chandeliers and sophisticated shifters in their finest attire.
I’m just beginning to relax when I spot them across the room—two tall figures in archaic ceremonial wear, one conferring with a server while the other scans the crowd with calculating eyes.
“Finley.”I grip her elbow gently, steering her subtly toward a large floral arrangement.“Don’t look now, but my father and Alpha Dexter are here.”
She freezes mid-reach for a champagne flute.“What?How?This is by invitation only.”
“Red must have invited them,” I mutter, positioning myself to block their line of sight.“She probably thought it would make a good story, the estranged pack leaders witnessing our triumph.She probably expects my father to admit he was wrong.Fat chance of that.”
“Or your father pulled rank to get in.”Her expression darkens.“That’s far more likely, and after the pack gathering fiasco, he might be looking for round two.”
We watch in horror as Heath and Dexter make their way through the crowd, both wearing ridiculous “traditional leadership formal wear” that includes the ceremonial fur capes that shed visibly with each movement.Small tufts of fur drift into cocktails and canapés as they pass, leaving a trail of discreetly grimacing guests.
“Should we run for it?”she whispers.
“They’ve already seen us.”I sigh, recognizing my father’s purposeful stride.“Time to face the music.”
Before they can reach us, Red intercepts them, her dress billowing dramatically as she corrals them toward a group of elderly panthers, who immediately look thrilled at the opportunity to corner authentic wolf pack leaders.
“She just bought us some time.”Finley inhales and exhales slowly.“Let’s mingle our way to the opposite side of the room.”
For the next hour, we engage in an elaborate ballroom dance of avoidance, circulating among guests while maintaining maximum distance from my father and Dexter.The effort would be comical if it weren’t so nerve-racking.
Our strategy works until a waiter backing away from a particularly enthusiastic bear shifter collides with Finley, sending her champagne sloshing directly onto the silk gown of none other than Dexter’s mate, Margaret Wilson.
“Oh!”Margaret gasps, looking down at the spreading stain.
“I am so sorry.”Finley grabs cocktail napkins, frantically blotting at the fabric.“The waiter bumped me.I didn’t mean—”
Margaret’s initial shock fades into recognition.“You’re the wolf from the pack gathering, who pinned Claudia Hayburn.”
Finley freezes, napkin suspended mid-dab.“Um, yes?”
To our mutual surprise, Margaret bursts into laughter.“Good.That girl has needed taking down a peg for years.Always swanning around like she owns the territory.”She leans closer, conspiratorially.“Between us, I’ve been hoping someone would challenge her properly.Didn’t expect it to be you, but then again, appearances can be deceiving.”
Finley blinks, clearly thrown by this unexpected ally.“You’re...not upset about your dress?”
“Silk dries.”Margaret waves dismissively.“Bruised egos take longer to heal.Now, tell me how you learned that maneuver.I’ve never seen anything like it.”
As Finley is whisked away by an unexpectedly friendly alpha’s mate, I find myself cornered by three elderly wolves, who recognize me from my childhood pack visits.
“Young Thornton.”The tallest one claps my shoulder with unnecessary force.“Just the wolf we need.We’ve been discussing investment strategies for our retirement funds.”
I try to demur.“I’m not really working tonight.”
“Nonsense!Just a quick consultation,” another insists, producing a napkin covered in what appears to be a crude drawing of a roulette wheel.“We’ve developed a system, you see.Guaranteed returns.”
