Page 2 of The Lunatics

“Why would they?” I asked. “They don’t even believe in the Goddess.”

“My mom said they don’t believe in true mates either. So, what are they doing here?”

I shook my head. “No idea.”

The driver-side door opened, and out stepped a man who, regardless of why he was here, clearly didn’t belong. He was on the shorter side for a male shifter, close to my own height at five foot nine. The thousand-dollar suit he wore was perfectly tailored to his form. Wide shoulders, a thick waist, and tree trunk legs spoke of a stockier build that would excel in a bare-knuckle match, though I’d bet good money he’d never sully himself by taking part in one.

As if unconcerned that he was being watched by so many eyes, he tightened his tie and ran a hand over his head, smoothing his palm slowly over dark brown hair that was so well-coiffed, I doubted a single strand had been out of place. His attention then went to his sleeves, gently brushing them free of whatever road dust had dared to settle on the dark blue fabric. Finally, his fingers fell to his wrists. He checked over his buttons before tugging at the hems of his shirtsleeves to ensure a thin band remained visible below the cuffs of his jacket.

There was something about his movements that made them look methodical. Like this was the same ritual he performed every time he stepped out of a motor vehicle.

He glanced at the crowd passing by, and I was given my first good look at his face. His skin was flawless and pale, with golden undertones that made me think he would tan easily if he spent less time in a boardroom and more time outside. The impeccably manicured three-day beard that covered the lower half of his face was even darker than his hair, shading his square jawline and framing lips that were so full they seemed in danger of dominating the rest of his face. Only his nose saved him from that, being strong enough to balance them out. His brows were full and slightly arched in the center, framing brown eyes a few shades darker than my own. As I watched, one of them arched even higher, his expression the perfectimage of disdain as he turned away from the crowd in obvious dismissal.

I frowned at his retreating back. “I can’t tell if he’s handsome or not.”

“He would be,” Gia said, “if someone pulled that stick out of his ass.”

I smothered my laughter. “Shh, he might hear you.”

“Doubtful. From what I’ve heard, they’re so tame that they’re barely even wolves anymore.”

“Do you really think they only shift once a month?”

She nodded in my periphery. “And only because the full moon forces them to.”

“That’s so sad,” I said, watching the man round the SUV.

“I don’t feel bad for them. It’s their own doing. They traded the freedom of the forest for money and power in the human world.”

“Why would anyone do that?”

“The Goddess only knows,” she said. “Oh, look, the golden son.” A blond man well over six feet climbed out of the passenger side. “Must be Nathaniel.”

“Which means the brunet is the oldest sibling. Michael.”

“Yup. Lucky us. This should make the ceremony interesting. Maybe my curiosity over what the hell they’re doing here will distract me away from my anxiety.”

I turned toward her. “We can still leave.”

She shook her head, a familiar, stubborn expression settling over her features. “Nope. I’m seeing this through. Just promise me that you’ll be here to pick up the pieces if it all goes sideways on me.” Her gaze went back out the window, toward the Kolbecks. “And if one of them ends up being my mate, you’ll help me feign my own death to get out of it.”

“Done,” I said, grinning.

With that, we climbed out of the truck.

This year’s summer bonding ceremony was taking place on our pack’s land, in a clearing half a mile deep in the dense woods of northern New Hampshire. The cars parked around us had license plates from as far away as Florida. All of the Eastern Seaboard packs were invited. By the size of the crowd, it looked like every one had members in attendance. People talked loudly and animatedly, jostled their friends, and smiled jovially in greeting at wolves they didn’t know. Even those at war with each other would keep the peace on a day so sacred to our kind.

Three other ceremonies were scheduled to take place across the country, one in the Midwest, one in the South, and another out on the West Coast. It was the same across the globe. In the fields of Europe, the forests of Russia, the jungles of South America, and the savannas of Africa, werewolves gathered on the eve of the summer solstice to seek out their mates in a ritual so old, we’d lost the story of its origin.

The crowd around us compressed at the trailhead that led to the clearing. We stood nearly shoulder to shoulder with wolves we had never met as we paced beneath the towering pines. I’d run this path so many times in both human and wolf form that I knew each and every rock and just when to leap to keep from getting tripped up by tree roots. That familiarity was a comfort to me now, surrounded by so many strangers.

Inside the truck, the world had been muted. Now that we were outside, I was on the brink of being carried away by it all. The rhythmic pounding of hundreds of heartbeats filled my ears. The buzz of conversation was damn near deafening. By instinct, I strained to catch the smaller noises: fabric shifting and sliding over skin; the distant slam of a car door; an army of footfalls marching together toward the same goal.

Beneath the smell of cotton and denim, hints of musk and fur tickled my nose, tinged with sharper notes of fear, excitement,and worry. Gia and I weren’t the only ones running the emotional gauntlet this afternoon. I glanced heavenward, praying to the Goddess that she would see Gia through this. That one of these wolves was good enough for her. And that it wasn’t one of the Kolbecks.

I strained so hard to pick up on my surroundings that the shield guarding my metaphysical power loosened. A woman nearby snapped her head around and looked straight at me.

Gia leaned in, her shoulder brushing mine. “Put a lid on it, will you? I don’t want to fight anyone today.”