Ruining the Show
1157 Words
His hand reached for my bare shoulder.
I didn't flinch. I just took one smooth step backward. His fingers grasped empty air.
"Careful," I said, my voice completely flat. "You'll wrinkle the silk."
Vance blinked. He stared at his empty hand as if his brain couldn't process what just happened. In my past life, I would have leaned into his touch. I would have sought his warmth like a desperate, starving pup.
"Sloane, what is wrong with you today?" he asked. His handsome face twisted with sharp irritation. "Change before the ceremony starts."
I didn't answer him. I just turned my back and walked down the hall. I left him standing alone, holding his stupid bouquet of white lilies.
The heavy bass of party music swelled as I reached the top of the grand staircase.
Below me, the massive ballroom was packed. Hundreds of Crescent Pack members stood shoulder to shoulder. They laughed, drank champagne, and waited for their future Luna to make her grand entrance.
My bare heel hit the first marble step.
The talking near the stairs stopped. Then, the silence spread. It rippled through the crowd like a wave until the entire ballroom was dead quiet.
Heads turned. Eyes widened in shock.
They expected a sweet, submissive girl in delicate white lace. Instead, they saw a woman dripping in blood-red silk, walking with her head held high.
I let my Alpha aura slip. Just a fraction.
The air in the room instantly grew heavy. As I walked down the steps, a few of the younger wolves in the front row instinctively bared their necks. They lowered their heads, yielding to a raw power I used to hide just to make Vance feel stronger.
I wasn't hiding anymore.
I reached the bottom of the stairs. Through the sea of staring faces, I found her.
Blythe.
Right now, she wasn't the pampered mistress wrapped in expensive winter coats. She was just a clumsy, ordinary human.
The pack had taken her in as a servant out of pity. She wore a cheap grey uniform, holding a silver tray with two tall glasses of red wine.
I remembered this exact moment.
Five years ago, Blythe approached me with that same tray. She "accidentally" tripped and spilled the dark red wine all over my pure white dress. The entire pack laughed at me. I cried, and Vance defended her. He told me she was just a fragile human who made an honest mistake.
It wasn't a mistake.
She walked toward me now. Her head was bowed. She played the part of the shy, terrified servant perfectly.
As she got within three feet of me, her ankle deliberately rolled. She pitched forward, throwing the heavy silver tray of wine directly at my chest.
My wolf hummed with explosive speed.
I didn't just step aside. I reached out and grabbed Blythe's wrist with a crushing grip. I twisted her arm forcefully back toward herself.
Splash.
The dark red wine exploded all over Blythe's face. It soaked her blonde hair and heavily stained her cheap grey uniform.
The heavy glasses shattered against the floor.
The ballroom erupted into loud gasps.
Blythe stood totally frozen. Red wine dripped from her nose and chin. For one split second, her eyes flashed with genuine, ugly venom. Then, she remembered she had an audience.
Tears instantly welled in her eyes. Her bottom lip trembled.
"Oh no," I said. I let go of her wrist and offered her a cold, empty smile. "You really need to watch your step, Blythe. People might think you threw that on purpose."
"What happened here?!"
Vance's angry voice cut through the whispers. He pushed his way through the crowd, rushing straight to Blythe's side.
His eyes scanned her wine-soaked clothes. His jaw tightened instantly. He whipped his head around and glared at me.
"Sloane," Vance growled, his voice dropping to a low, warning pitch. "Did you push her?"
"She tripped," I said simply. I brushed a speck of dust off my red dress. "Luckily, she missed me."
Vance opened his mouth to shout, but a loud tap echoed through the overhead speakers.
Elder Thorne stood on the raised stage at the front of the room. He tapped the microphone again, calling for the pack's attention.
"Welcome, Crescent Pack!" Thorne's booming voice filled the ballroom. "It is time for the Mating Ceremony! Alpha Vance, please bring your fated mate to the stage."
Vance froze.
He looked at Blythe's tear-streaked face. He desperately wanted to comfort her. But he looked back up at the stage, remembering he had an audience. He had to play the perfect, strong Alpha for the pack.
He left Blythe standing in the puddle of wine and walked over to me. He offered me his arm for the crowd, but his voice was a furious, violent whisper in my ear.
"We are going to talk about your vicious attitude after this," he threatened.
I didn't take his arm. I just walked past him toward the stage steps on my own.
"Oh, Vance," I whispered back without looking at him. "We definitely will."
I walked up the wooden steps. Vance hurried behind me, pasting a fake, charming smile on his face for the cheering crowd.
We stood in the center of the stage. The bright white spotlight blinded me for a second. Hundreds of wolves watched us in total silence, waiting to witness the sacred bond.
Elder Thorne smiled warmly. He held a silver bowl of moon water. He turned to Vance first.
"Alpha Vance," Thorne said formally. "Do you accept Sloane as your fated mate and the future Luna of the Crescent Pack?"
Vance puffed his chest out. He shot a quick, hidden look at Blythe crying in the crowd, then looked back at the Elder.
"I do," Vance said loudly.
The crowd clapped and howled in approval.
Thorne held up a wrinkled hand for silence. The room quieted down again. He turned to me, his eyes full of respect.
"And do you, Sloane, accept Alpha Vance as your fated mate?"
The ballroom went dead silent. You could hear a single pin drop on the floor.
I looked at Vance. He was smiling at me, completely confident. He thought he owned me. He thought I was just a naive girl who would follow him blindly into the dark.
I looked down at the crowd. I saw Blythe glaring at me through her wet, wine-stained hair.
I remembered the freezing marble altar. I remembered the heavy silver needle piercing my neck. I remembered dying for them.
I reached out and took the microphone directly from Elder Thorne's hand.
The cold metal felt heavy in my grip. It felt like power. It felt like freedom.
I brought the microphone to my lips. I stared right into Vance's arrogant eyes.
"I, Sloane," my voice echoed through the massive speakers, completely clear and steady. "Reject Vance of the Crescent Pack as my mate."
- Writer
