Mating ceremony
1304 Words
SLOANE
Twelve hours.
That’s how long it took for my mother’s words to turn completely useless.
Because right now, I’m standing in the driveway of the pack house… and Alyssa is in the car again.
A goofy smile is stretched across her face like she didn’t just get a full lecture less than half a day ago about how I’m apparently her biggest distraction and how she shouldn't drive me anymore.
But she just did.
She leans back in her seat, one hand on the wheel, looking entirely too pleased with herself like this is fun.
I fold my arms, raising a brow at her.
“You do realize,” I start slowly, “that if Mom finds out about this, she might actually combust this time.”
Alyssa snorts.
“Mom will be fine eventually but you might not.”
I chuckle dryly. For we both know it's the other way round.
Her fingers tap against the steering wheel and after a few seconds, she says,
“Call me if anything—”
“I won't.” I cut in lightly.
She gives me a side eye and I shrug.
“If anything happens, it means I survived long enough for something to happen and that's progress.”
She shakes her head as her fingers tap against the steering wheel. “f**k you.”
That earns me a small smile. And then, she blows me a kiss which I swat away with a laugh and drives off.
I stand there for a second longer than I should, watching the empty road, my lips still curled in a smile.
Then, I exhale and turn towards the pack house.
Minors aren't allowed inside the pack house on mating ceremony day.
Everyone knows that.
It’s not even a rule that needs enforcing. It’s just… understood.
Today is for 18+ wolves.
Not almost-wolves or half-shifts or mistakes.
My fingers brush lightly against the strap of my dress, adjusting it where it slips just slightly off my shoulder.
Black silk.
Soft and smooth and completely unnecessary for someone like me.
I huff out a quiet breath as I step over the threshold and into the pack house.
The only people here are cleaners.
But well, I’m early on purpose.
Because if I’m going to be here, then I’m not doing it the way everyone else is.
I won't stand around pretending and waiting for something I already know isn't going to happen.
So, I’d decided to slip in before the crowd builds.
I make my way up the stairs like I've done it a hundred times before.
Upstairs is quieter and dimmer and the noise from below barely reaches here, just a dull hum through the walls.
I head straight for the storage room at the end of the corridor and push the door open.
It creaks slightly, reeking of dust.
I slip in anyway and shut it behind me, the darkness wrapping around me for a second before my eyes adjust.
Boxes.
Old decorations.
Things no one needs until they suddenly do.
Perfect.
I move a few aside, clearing just enough space for myself before sitting down on the floor, back resting against the wall.
Then I pull out my phone and my earpiece.
I scroll for a second before picking a show at random, something mindless enough to drown everything else out.
“Two hours,” I murmur under my breath, slipping the earpiece in like I’m making a deal with myself.
“I’m not moving until it’s almost over.”
Because by then, the ceremony will be rounding up.
People will be distracted and busy, wrapped in their own… whatever this is.
And I can leave without anyone really noticing I was here.
My gaze drops briefly to the black silk pooled around me and a small huff escapes me.
“Waste of silk if you ask me.”
I pause then shrug lightly to myself.
“But well…”
My thumb taps the screen as the show starts.
“Since I’m already a burden—”
I settle back against the wall.
“Might as well commit.”
.
.
.
I don’t realize when the episode ends.
Or the next one.
Or the one after that.
Time just… passes, soft and easy and quiet which is exactly how I wanted it.
Until a vibration against my side.
I blink, pulling the earpiece out to check my bag where my other phone is vibrating.
Ohh.
Two hours already huh?
“That was fast,” I mutter, pushing myself up.
My legs protest slightly from sitting too long, and I stretch them out before brushing invisible dust off my dress.
Not that it matters.
Waste of silk anyway.
I grab my bag, shoving my other phone in as I reach for the door. I pull it open, carefully this time.
The hallway is different now.
Louder and fuller and alive.
And unfortunately… hornier.
My nose wrinkles almost immediately.
One couple is pressed against the wall sucking face like oxygen is running out tomorrow while another has somehow progressed to full-on groping.
I stop.
Blink once.
Then twice.
“Oh my Goddess,” I mutter under my breath. “At least get a room you hormonal psychopaths.”
Nobody listens.
A girl literally moans somewhere down the corridor and I physically gag.
“Yep. Time to go.”
I tighten my grip on my bag and start making my way toward the stairs, weaving around bodies and wandering hands like I’m navigating an obstacle course specifically designed by traumatized therapists.
The deeper I go into the hallway, the worse it gets.
Kissing.
Laughing.
Hands everywhere.
I finally reach the staircase and exhale in relief.
Freedom.
Or so I think.
Looking down from above, almost everyone below seems to already be paired off somehow.
Typical.
But there’s also a clustered crowd near the center of the hall like some kind of commotion broke out.
My brows furrow slightly.
Well, who cares anyway?
I start descending the stairs.
One step.
Then another.
And then—
I stop.
My fingers tighten around the railing.
Because suddenly there’s this… pull.
My brows pull together.
Weird.
Teachers have explained the mate pull so many times over the years that I could probably recite the symptoms in my sleep.
Warmth.
Recognition.
Instinctive attraction.
Blah blah blah.
This feels… similar.
But no.
That’s impossible.
Right?
Still—
The feeling tightens and tugs like invisible fingers curling around my ribs and dragging me forward.
My feet move before my brain catches up.
Step after step after step.
The closer I get, the stronger it becomes.
And then—
A scent hits me.
Sweet and dangerously addictive.
My breath catches slightly.
Another follows immediately after.
And another.
Three.
Why the hell are there three?
The crowd noise grows louder.
Whispers and murmurs and excitement.
Then suddenly—
“Everyone wait.”
The voice cuts through the noise like thunder.
It's Zeke's.
My stomach drops instantly
No.
Absolutely not.
People begin whispering louder now.
“What’s that look?”
“Did they smell their mates?”
“No way—”
The crowd parts slowly.
And just like that, a pathway opens directly between me…
…and them.
Three massive hockey idiots standing side by side like the universe personally decided to ruin my life for entertainment.
Zion.
Zeke.
Zayden.
Their eyes lock onto me at the exact same time.
And the second it happens—
Something snaps hard and their expression changes instantly into shock, then recognition, and then possession.
“Mate,” they growl together.
My jaw drops.
“What the hell?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
Gasps erupt around us immediately.
“No f*****g way—”
“Barehide?”
“HER?”
“The Halcyons’ mate is Barehide?!”
- Writer
