Keeping Up With Their Omega.

Autumn’s pov. Tonight. Today is the day I attend the full moon gathering. Meet my mate. Get claimed. Marked. Bear pups. And my family will be the happiest people in the world. That wasn’t the life I wanted. How was I supposed to stop this from happening? I would be damned before I let myself become some alpha’s mate. “Autumn!” The sharp call of my name snapped from my thoughts. Raelith sat across from me, arms spread wide, golden eyes blazing. “What in all the hells were you thinking? What dreamland did you drift off to this time?” Laughter rippled around the dining table. "I told you. She wasn’t listening." Tyson remarked. Temperance tried to hide his smile behind his hand, but I heard it slip through. When he looked up, his violet eyes found mine. My pulse stumbled. “Let her dream,” Temperance said with a low chuckle, lifting his glass of champagne to his lips. “It’s not every day someone meets their mate.” Temperance’s words stung. Is he really that happy to see me matched? I don’t get it. I’m not one of those omegas excited to meet a mate. Don’t want to be a baby mama to some creep. Life is already hard enough as an Omega. Moon-crumbs, mutt, lowborn, cunt. That’s what the pack calls us. They say we’re the leftovers of the Moon Goddess, scraps she threw together when she ran out of ideas. I’ve heard it all. Lived through it. If it weren’t for my stepbrothers, the gammas, I don’t know how I would’ve survived. Why won’t Temperance understand my worries? I’ve tried explaining a thousand times. I don’t want a mate. Why won’t he get that? Temperance sat with one leg crossed over the other, dressed in simple black trousers and a long-sleeved shirt with the top button undone. His silk-black hair fell straight past his shoulders, parted neatly down the center. His features were calm and sharp: a straight nose, a defined jaw, and a small silver ring glinting on the left side of his lower lip. He was tall, lean, and muscular. An alpha and a gamma of the clan. His violet eyes carried a slow, dangerous allure. Most wolves fell quiet when he looked at them, almost hypnotized. There was command in that gaze, a silent demand that no one dared refuse. And yet, when those same eyes turned on me, they were softer. They had always been the ones who grounded me when I felt small. He was the oldest of my stepbrothers. “Aww, our little Omega is going to get claimed,” Raelith teased. “She won’t be our rebellious little baby anymore.” “That’s disgusting,” I muttered, stabbing at my food with my fork. Raelith Winterfang, my third stepbrother, is an Alpha and the fated Child of the Eclipse. At almost twenty-six, he was tall and broad-shouldered, bronze skin warm against his sharp golden eyes. His dark-blonde hair fell in a messy wolf cut that somehow made him look both dangerous and charming. When he smiled, the whole dining table seemed to brighten. This morning, he lounged in gray sweatpants and a fitted black T-shirt, toast in hand, Nike Palm slippers on his feet. Completely relaxed and amused. He pouted dramatically. “Come on, Autumn. You’re hurting my feelings.” “Go to hell,” I said with a shrug. Raelith tilted his head, studying me. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous about meeting your fated mate?” His voice dropped lower, rougher. “Fated mate?” I asked, though I knew exactly what he meant. “Have you forgotten? The full moon is tonight.” “Oh.” I nodded quickly, pretending indifference. The hours were closing in. The air in the room had thinned. I could barely breathe. “Don’t scare the little chick,” Tyson said calmly, adjusting his glasses. “I’m not a chick,” I snapped. Could he stop treating me like I was thirteen years old? I am eighteen now. “Beats me,” Tyson replied dryly, taking a sip of his coffee. “Be quiet.” Tyson Winterfang was an asshole, a dominant Alpha through and through. At twenty–three, he stood as tall as Raelith: lean, muscular, impossible to ignore. His pale skin was flawless, short brown curls framing an almost unfairly handsome face. His green eyes challenged anyone who dared them. He is my fourth stepbrother. That morning, he wore nothing but black sweatpants, his upper body bare, a white cat tucked lazily in his arms. I shot him a glance. His relaxed expression was deceptive. That soft gaze hid a predator. His crooked smile promised trouble. “But seriously,” Tyson said, voice lazy and cruel, “I can’t believe you’ll be in someone’s bed soon. You were just a little girl yesterday.” “Hey,” Temperance’s voice cut through the air, sharp and warning. “Watch your mouth.” Raelith laughed, unfazed. “She’s not a child, bro. Stop treating her like one.” “You’re disgusting,” Niko muttered. “Damn right,” Raelith shot back with a grin. “I was talking to you,” Niko corrected, closing the fridge. Raelith blinked. “Bold of you to assume I care.” “I’m going to assess him before he marks you. Understood?” Niko said calmly, closing his laptop as he sat down. “Assess him?” I frowned. “Yeah.” He rose from the table again, pushing his chair back with deliberate ease. “No werewolf is marking my sister without my approval.” He winked as he walked off. I sighed and took a bite of my sandwich, my appetite gone despite the plate in front of me. My heart refused to slow down. They were overprotective. And annoying. I just hoped my mate wouldn’t run before anything even began. Who knows? I glanced at Temperance. He was watching everyone at the table, quiet as always, observing. Then his gaze shifted to me. We held each other’s stare for a moment. I looked away first. “As if he needs your permission in the first place,” I murmured. "I heard that." Niko announced. “I need a fated mate,” Riven said, rolling his eyes as he pushed back his chair, folding his legs on the table. “I can’t wait to mark one.” He leaned suddenly on me and growled near my ear. “Haah!” I yelped, covering my ears. He laughed. Riven Winterfang is my fifth stepbrother. I’m the youngest of the Winterfang family. Riven isn’t tall like the others. He’s an average-height Beta who prefers comfort over intimidation. At twenty-one, he often lounges with his legs crossed, quiet and unreadable. He doesn’t speak much, but when he does, it’s usually something playful. Despite his age, he still carries around a large white teddy bear as if it’s a childhood treasure. His shoulder-length blond hair frames pale skin, neat brows, dark eyes and soft pink lips that almost make him look harmless. He isn’t. Niko is simple in appearance but impossible to ignore. At twenty-eight, he’s tall, lean, and subtly muscular. White-skinned and refined, he favors blue jeans and a plain white long sleeve shirt, old-fashioned, understated and sharp. His short, curly black hair is always neat. His ocean-blue eyes miss nothing. They cut straight through you. Niko Winterfang calculates, composes himself, and always thinks three moves ahead. He is the noblest of my brothers. Maybe even more than Temperance. “Your rut is tomorrow, right?” I asked, then glanced at Temperance.