Pack Law - 2/4
Two days later, Tommy stood in front of the large mirror in his bedroom, eyeing his reflection critically. It was evening, and outside his windows, Sorei was its usual mix of gleaming lights and gorgeous chaos-not that Tommy noticed. Instead, his attention was fixed on the mirror as he turned this way and that, considering the image he presented.
The elaborate silk long coat had arrived just that morning, as had the close-fitted brown leather pants and tall boots he wore. His mother had hand-picked the silk herself, and even Tommy had to admit it was beautiful, a deep, rich indigo like the harvest sky, and inlaid with whisper-thin gold threads that shimmered in the light with each breath he took. His hair, usually left in a choppy, asymmetric cut sweeping across his forehead, was combed back from his face tonight and held in place with heavy pomade. Wouldn’t want to hide the merchandise, Tommy thought bitterly, hating the way the style left him nothing to hide behind. For a few brief seconds, he considered running out the back terrace, jumping into his hover-car and racing out of the city as fast as he could. Then he steeled himself, standing up straighter and shaking off the idea before it could take hold. Tommy had never backed down from a challenge in his life, and tonight would be no exception.
Just as he finished the thought, the soft click of the house intercom sounded behind him. A split-second later, his father’s voice filled the room.
“Thomas, we’re all ready down here. The first hover-car is only a minute away.”
Tommy glanced at his chrono-display. The banquet was scheduled to begin in half an hour. No turning back now. No petitioning the Tribunal, no running. This was it.
“I’ll be right there, father,” Tommy replied, voice pitched a little louder than normal so it carried to the intercom receiver on the far wall.
When he heard the soft click of the intercom cutting out, Tommy gave himself one last look before walking out of his bedroom. He marched across the landing and climbed down the staircase slowly, moving with all the enthusiasm of a convict on his way to the gallows. Downstairs, he joined his family in the grand marble foyer, breath catching in his chest as the whirring sound of approaching hover-cars reached his ears through the open front doors. He shifted back and forth restlessly as he waited for the first alphas to arrive, eyes darting this way and that, taking in the elaborate decorations that had been put up earlier in the afternoon in preparation for the banquet. The seconds seemed to drag on interminably, slow and torturous until, suddenly, three alphas appeared in the doorway and made their way over to be received by the family.
While there were no particular laws for this mandated gathering that began the courtship phase of the process, there were a few, minor traditions to follow. The werewolf on offer was to be greeted before anyone else; first the alpha presented himself and then presented his Seconds. Only then, would the trio go on to greet the family before moving on to the banquet room.
“We are honored and pleased that you have come,” Tommy said with as much cheerfulness as he could drum up before holding out his arm for the alpha to clasp in greeting.
The alpha returned his greeting before presenting his Seconds. Then he moved on to greet Tommy’s parents and sister. After the introductions were concluded, a pair of hired servers escorted the three alphas to the banquet room while Tommy took a steadying breath. There. He’d done it, hadn’t he? Tommy had barely finished the thought before another group of alphas entered the house and approached the receiving line. It continued like that for the next twenty minutes, a steady stream of strangers clasping his arm and announcing themselves, dozens of faces running together until Tommy stopped bothering to catalogue the differences between them. It was only when Pittman arrived that his glazed expression cleared and he stood up straighter, hackles raised.
Pittman swaggered in with two alphas Tommy recognized from three years ago. His business partners and best friends, both as insufferable as Pittman himself. He recalled the way they’d stared the few times Tommy had accepted Pittman’s invitations to dinner, eyeing him up and down like he was a pet to be passed around among the three of them.
“We are honored and pleased that you have come,” Tommy recited without inflection when Pittman drew to a halt in front of him.
Pittman grinned coldly and gripped tightly when Tommy held out his arm. “I assure you, when we’re mated, the pleasure will be all mine.”
Tommy bared his teeth, a half-second away from growling when, out of the corner of his eyes, he saw his father stiffen with concern. Immediately, he pushed back his aggression and instead plastered on a false smile. “We shall see,” he replied icily before pulling his arm free of Pittman’s grip.
“I believe you know Colwel and Welsford,” Pittman said, stepping aside and gesturing at his Seconds.
Tommy inclined his head slightly, refusing to extend himself any further in greeting. They could take offense all they wanted. And they clearly did, judging from how stiffly they greeted Tommy’s family before marching off behind Pittman as they were led into the banquet hall.
“Tommy-”
“I’m alright,” Tommy said before his mother could ask the question.
“If you’re sure,” she replied before glancing up at the old-fashioned chrono-display on the wall. “Perhaps Lambert has decided not to come, after all?” she said, looking at the others.
Tommy tensed at hearing Lambert’s name. It was almost time for the banquet to begin and Lambert still hadn’t arrived.
“None of the servers has mentioned a comm?” Tommy asked.
“Not a word,” Lisa said. “And this is hardly a night to be fashionably late, if that’s his habit.”
“You may have been right all along,” Tommy said to his father. “Maybe Lambert wasn’t serious after all.”
“Two more minutes and we’ll know for sure.”
If Tommy had imagined time dragging before, now it practically seemed to go backwards, each second going on for days. He watched the chrono-display, fixated as the seconds trickled by. Other than the brief minutes spared for Pittman, Lambert had occupied Tommy’s every thought and overshadowed every waking moment for the last lunar cycle. But here Tommy was, finally at the moment of truth, and the man was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or affronted, but before he could decide, the whirring of a landing hover-car reached Tommy’s ears and twenty seconds later, Adam Lambert walked through the doors.
He was tall and broad, shoulders strong and imposing beneath the tailored black silk long coat he wore. Tommy stared helplessly as Lambert walked toward him, taking in how his legs seemed to go on for miles, shapely and muscular and highlighted to perfection in the skintight black pants and tall boots he wore, both made of leather, though the boots were more elaborate, inlaid with small stones: obsidian and hematite and dark blue Kerala topaz. Tommy’s eyes darted this way and that, as if unsure where to look first before finally settling on Lambert’s face, tracing over the startling paleness of his skin and the shock of blond hair on his head, so unlike any werewolf Tommy had ever met, golden strands shimmering as brightly as the threads in Tommy’s own long coat in the brightly-lit foyer. Adam Lambert was, in a word, stunning.
Tommy found himself still staring when Lambert stopped in front of him, but just as he was about to pull himself together, Lambert smiled, bright and open, and just like that, Tommy’s thoughts scattered again. Up close, he could see what he hadn’t before, that Lambert’s pale skin was dotted with freckles everywhere. His forehead, his cheeks, his nose-even his lips were dusted with the tiny brown spots. Logically, Tommy understood why they were there: that the werewolf genes in half-breeds counteracted the epidermal breakdown their vampire genes caused, so that, instead of turning black, a half-breed’s skin only freckled and they didn’t die from sun poisoning like full vampires. Even so, half-breeds remained hyper-sensitive to the sun in comparison to full-blooded werewolves, pale skin tending to burn if overly exposed to direct sunlight. Tommy knew all that, but he stared anyway, hopelessly fascinated, fighting the urge to reach out and trace each freckle with his fingertips, to chase them across Lambert’s skin and discover how far down they led.
It wasn’t until Lambert’s smile faltered that Tommy realized he still hadn’t said a word in greeting. Quickly, he held out his arm, face flushed with embarrassment.
“We are honored and pleased that you have come,” he said, a touch breathless. For the first time tonight, he found that he actually meant the words. Shaking his head a little, he skirted around the errant thought, not wanting to examine it further.
“I am honored that you would receive me,” Lambert replied, clasping Tommy’s arm. Lambert’s smile returned full-force then, and before Tommy could think of a reply, his thoughts went skittering in a dozen different directions all over again.
Lambert’s eyes looked incredible like that, practically glittering in the brightly lit space. Tommy had seen eyes that color in the classroom during his biology lessons as a child, and he recalled thinking how cold and lifeless they seemed, a vampire’s eyes, shaded with silver, the color of death. But there was nothing cold and lifeless about Lambert. His eyes radiated warmth, and Tommy found himself drawn to them. So beautiful, like Andorran diamonds or the ocean in mid-winter.
Somewhere in the back of his head, in a place carved from years of lessons and prejudices and military training, a voice spoke up in warning, reminding him that this man was half-vampire, that he was the enemy, but Tommy willfully ignored it. Instead he stared, cataloguing all he could and noting how the images and holograms he’d looked at over the last few weeks failed to do justice to the reality of the man.
“Thomas?”
The sound of his father’s voice pulled Tommy out of the clouds and belatedly, he realized that he was still clasping Lambert’s arm. Instantly, he snatched back his arm, breaking the point of contact and schooling his features into a blank mask. For a moment, Lambert looked startled, then…hurt? Before Tommy could decipher the look that passed over the man’s face, it was gone, replaced by a cheerful expression that looked a little false.
“Please allow me to introduce my Seconds,” Lambert began to say, stepping aside and waving at the alphas behind him. “This is Sutan Amrull,” he said, gesturing at the taller, lighter-skinned of the two. The man stepped forward with a smile that rivaled Lambert’s and clasped Tommy’s arm in greeting. When he was done, the shorter werewolf-Terrance Spencer, as Tommy was quickly informed-stepped forward and greeted him as well. The introductions were repeated with Tommy’s family, and soon enough, everyone had greeted everyone and there was nothing left to do but head to the banquet room.
“May I offer you my arm?” Sutan said to Tommy’s mother, flashing another brilliant smile.
“Please,” she replied, smiling up at him. “It isn’t everyday a handsome man offers me his arm.”
Tommy’s father let out an exaggerated sigh. “My dear,” he said, “you realize I can hear you.”
“Sure I do,” she said, shrugging. “Don’t worry. A little competition will keep you young.”
They all chuckled softly at that, and the tension that had hung in the air ever since Lambert first walked in seemed to ease somewhat. They turned toward the banquet hall, Tommy’s father leading the way, followed by his mother and Sutan. Terrance held out his arm for Lisa, and together, they walked behind the others. Finally, there was only himself and Lambert.
“Shall we?” Lambert asked, holding out his arm for Tommy to take. For a moment, Tommy debated accepting the offer. There were appearances to consider. A werewolf on offer wasn’t supposed to show favoritism during the courtship phase, and to walk in like that, holding on to Lambert’s arm…surely that would be seen as favoritism? To hell with it, Tommy thought rebelliously as he moved closer and slipped his arm around Lambert’s. The other alphas could go complain to the Tribunal for all the good it would do them.
Lambert’s body was warm beside him as they walked, and Tommy found himself leaning closer, reacting blindly to that heat. Beneath his fingertips, Lambert’s muscles bunched and relaxed and Tommy couldn’t help pressing in, testing the banked strength he felt through the layers of clothing. When he realized what he was doing, he eased off immediately. Then he stole a quick glance up at Lambert to see if he’d noticed, only to catch the man looking down at him with a shuttered expression. Tommy broke the look instantly, looking down at the floor instead as they walked. For the second time tonight, Lambert was proving unreadable.
Not for the first time in his life, Tommy wished scent-reading wasn’t a long-dormant werewolf trait. Before the intricacies of language, werewolves had relied on scents and gestures for communication. Now, one couldn’t scent emotions anymore-save for the strongest ones: fear, aggression and desire. And even then, only when they were felt strongly. Tommy glanced up again, but Lambert’s gaze was fixed straight ahead, scent revealing nothing. It was just as well, because they’d finally arrived.
The banquet room was noisy with the loud hum of conversation. All around, alphas crowded around the massive, ornately-set banquet table, talking in small groups, some seated already while others remained on their feet. When Tommy entered the room on Lambert’s arm, all heads turned toward him, conversation dying out until the room was almost eerily silent. Within the span of seconds, surprise gave way to curiosity, and then to open hostility, aggression rising in the air as dozens of alphas glared at Lambert. Immediately, Tommy released his hold on Lambert’s arm and stepped aside, putting a reasonable distance between them. It wouldn’t do to derail the evening with unnecessary hostility.
“You are welcome,” Tommy’s father announced. He stood with his arms outstretched, palms held open in a sign of greeting and non-aggression. “Please be seated.”
With that, everyone took a seat at the table and the banquet commenced. Tommy’s parents and sister took the three seats at one end of the long table while Tommy sat down at the opposite end, as was the custom. Whether by design, or by luck, Lambert and his Seconds wound up seated at Tommy’s end, with Lambert only two chairs away from Tommy. But before Tommy could examine the spark of joy the happy accident gave him, he saw Pittman sit down four chairs away to his right. Wonderful, he thought before turning his attention to the other men at the table, trying and failing to remember all their names. When everyone was settled, the hired servers began carrying countless platters and bowls of food to the table, grilled meats and seafood, savory sauces, fresh bread and cheeses, expensive wines and delicacies from all over Lycan-as rich a meal as anyone could ask for.
As they ate, the hum of conversation rose up once again, building on itself until Tommy could barely hear anything above the din. Not that he particularly cared to, because, mostly, the alphas were recounting their histories and boasting about their inheritances, about their lands and property, preening and posturing for Tommy’s sake and to assert their dominance in the hierarchy of alphas gathered in the room. For long minutes, Tommy picked at his food and only listened half-heartedly to what the alphas closest to him were saying. Except when it came to Lambert, that is. When Lambert spoke, Tommy strained to pick out his voice among the others, wanting to hear that clear, lyrical cadence again. Idly, Tommy wondered if he sang. It would be a shame if he didn’t. Lambert’s voice was made for music.
Through the first hour, Lambert didn’t say much-and when he did, he mostly talked to his Seconds who were seated immediately to his left. Tommy could see why. Even now, the other alphas were still eyeing him with suspicion and disdain, expressions openly hostile. He must experience that every day, Tommy thought, wondering at the surge of protectiveness he felt toward Lambert all of a sudden. Tommy considered his own behavior toward half-breeds, how, even though he’d never been hostile toward them, he had never really tried to befriend or understand them either. In a way, he was just as bad as the alphas glaring at Lambert. The thought sobered him further and he picked at his food with even less enthusiasm than before.
“Are you not enjoying your meal?”
Tommy looked up in surprise when Lambert spoke to him. “I am,” Tommy replied, giving him a half-smile. Lambert smiled back, and Tommy’s breath caught as something light and warm fluttered low in his belly. “I’m just distracted by all the…recitals.”
As if on cue, Pittman’s voice cut through the din right at that moment as he began to count off his various properties and holdings loudly to the alpha seated directly across the table from him. Toward the end, Tommy caught Lambert’s gaze, and without thinking, he rolled his eyes, lips twitching with the effort not to laugh. Lambert’s eyes glittered with amusement as he smiled, holding Tommy’s gaze, sending him into a momentary tailspin as that thing fluttered again, light and strange, warming him from the inside out.
Tommy didn’t know how long he and Lambert looked at each other, but it must have been for a noticeable while, because when he finally looked away, he saw Pittman staring at him with narrowed eyes before pinning Lambert with a cold, hard look.
“What about you, Lambert? You haven’t said a word all evening,” Pittman began.
Tommy sat up straighter in his chair, tension rising. Around him, the room grew silent. This couldn’t possibly end well.
“Excuse me?” Lambert said.
“We’ve all shared our particulars. What about you? Tell us, Lambert, what property does your father own?”
Lambert’s shoulders stiffened. “I wouldn’t know. I never met the man.” His voice was even, and Tommy wondered how he could manage it in the face of such animosity.
“Tell us about your birth-father then. Or is it your mother? What does she own?”
“My mother is dead,” Lambert said through clenched teeth.
“Surely she must have left you an inheritance?”
“If you’re so eager to find out, then I suggest you visit the Chamber of Information. You can read my file to your heart’s content.”
“But why do that when I can hear the story straight from the horse’s mouth?” Pittman leaned forward at the table. “I’ve always wondered about you half-breeds. The way I see it, you shouldn’t exist. Because if I were a beta or omega carrying the enemy’s spawn, I’d kill myself before letting it live. And yet, here you are, alive and well. Why is that?”
Lambert turned even paler, color draining from his face. On the table, his hands curled into tight fists and the scent of aggression spiked high and sharp in the air.
“Stop it, Monte,” Tommy said quickly, before the situation worsened. “We’re not here for this.”
Pittman glanced at him. “Come on, Tommy, I had to ask the question.” He turned to glare at Lambert once again. “You can’t fault me for taking advantage of the situation. After all, it’s not every day I get to break bread with a deathmonger’s bastard.”
Lambert stood up abruptly, teeth bared in a growl and fists pressed down hard on the table. “That’s enough! Say one more word, Pittman, and I swear to God, I’ll-”
“You’ll what? You’ll do what?” Pittman snarled, standing up as well.
“Lambert, please don’t,” Tommy said.
Lambert turned to look at him, teeth still bared and chest heaving. His eyes were glowing now, facial features pulled tight as his wolf threatened to break through. He turned back to Pittman and growled again, low and deadly, muscles bunching and rippling beneath his clothes. But just as Tommy began to lose hope, some of the tension bled out of Lambert’s body and he drew back.
“Forgive me, Thomas Luna,” he said, low and rough, visibly wrestling his wolf back into the deep. “Mr. Ratliff, Mrs. Ratliff, please accept my apologies.” With a respectful nod to Tommy’s parents, Lambert walked out of the room with his Seconds following close on his heels.
“Was that absolutely necessary?” Tommy hissed at Pittman when Lambert and the others were gone.
Before Pittman could reply, Tommy straightened to his feet and, with a murmured excuse, he marched out of the banquet room and rushed toward the front doors. Outside, Lambert and the others were walking toward the other side of the circular driveway where their hover-car was fast approaching. Tommy hurried across the driveway as the car landed and called out to Lambert before he could climb in.
“Wait! Lambert, please wait!”
All three men turned around, wide-eyed with surprise as Tommy practically ran toward them. When he’d finally bridged the distance, he saw Lambert mutter something to his companions, and soon after, the other two climbed into the hover-car and shut the doors. Then Adam walked toward Tommy, eyebrows raised in question.
“I’m sorry for what happened in there,” Tommy said.
Lambert shrugged his shoulders. “In such a big world, these little things happen,” he replied in a flat tone.
“That wasn’t a small thing. That was…it was….” Tommy’s trailed off, suddenly at a loss for words.
“Thomas-”
“It was cruel, but you have to know that it was all directed at me. Three years ago, I rejected Pittman’s mating proposal, and it seems he’s still licking his wounds. I’m sorry he turned his anger on you. He said those things because of me.”
Lambert shook his head. “It had nothing to do with you. He would have said them anyway. Everyone in that room was thinking the same things. Pittman didn’t say anything I haven’t heard before, and believe me, I’ve heard far worse.”
“It shouldn’t be that way.” Tommy looked down, shifting from one foot to the other as guilt cut through him for the second time tonight. “I’m sorry for my part in it.”
When he looked up again, Lambert was staring at him, forehead creased in a frown. Tommy couldn’t help the feeling that he was being measured, his strengths and failings held up to a light and carefully sifted through. When Lambert finally looked away, Tommy wanted to ask what he’d concluded. But the thought of how strange it was that this near-stranger’s opinion mattered so much stopped him.
“They’ll do the same thing to you, if you were mated to me,” Lambert said quietly. “It won’t matter that you’re the Victory Child. They’ll mock you behind your back and insult you to your face. They’ll call you a vampire’s whore.”
Like they must have done to his mother. Tommy imagined Lambert as a child, small and defenseless, forced to listen to all that hatefulness. Protectiveness surged through him again, and Tommy reacted with it, raising his chin defiantly and saying, “I don’t care.”
“No. You just don’t know.” He exhaled sharply and stared at some point over Tommy’s left shoulder for a long moment. When he finally spoke again, his voice was low and strained, almost like it pained him to say what he was about to. “If you want me to withdraw my proposal, tell me so, and I will.”
Tommy started with surprise at Lambert’s words. Why would Lambert offer to withdraw without a fight? Why did he send a proposal for Tommy in the first place? Tommy wished Lambert would meet his gaze, but he continued to look away, body rigid with tension and expression carefully blank. There was something more at work here, but what that thing was, Tommy couldn’t begin to guess.
“You would have me mated to the likes of Monte Pittman?” Tommy asked, keeping his tone light to ease the tension in the air.
Lambert laughed-or at least he tried to, only the sound came out all wrong, rough and hoarse and joyless. “No,” he said. “I wouldn’t wish him on anyone-least of all you.”
“Then you have to stay in, if only to improve my odds.” Tommy took a step forward, and when he spoke again, all the lightness in his voice was gone. “Don’t withdraw your proposal.”
Lambert stood silent for a long moment, long enough that Tommy began to worry he would refuse. For a moment, he wondered at that, why he was suddenly so anxious at the thought of never seeing Lambert again. He had been dreading this man’s arrival for a full lunar cycle. So why was he standing here, heart pounding in his chest at the thought of him leaving?
Tommy took another step forward and set his hand on Lambert’s arm. “Please stay in,” he said, and God help him, he meant it.
Lambert looked down at his arm, staring at where Tommy’s hand rested on the rich black silk of his long coat. Then, finally, he met Tommy’s eyes. “Careful, Thomas Luna,” he said softly. “Someone might accuse you of playing favorites.”
“So let them.”
Lambert stared at him, giving him that long, measuring look once again. But this time, all Tommy could think about was how, even out here in the night, Lambert’s eyes gleamed brightly, dazzling and warm and unlike anything Tommy had ever seen. A soft breeze passed over them, and suddenly, Tommy realized how close they were standing, close enough to share the same breath, close enough that Lambert’s heat was a palpable thing even through his layers of clothing. Lambert tensed, as if he’d just realized the same thing as well. A second later, his gaze dropped to Tommy’s lips and his eyes seemed to darken. Lambert looked like he wanted to kiss him, and with a jolt of surprise, Tommy discovered that he wanted him to. Right here, out in the open, where anyone could walk out and see.
“Alright, I’ll stay in,” Lambert said, breaking the heavy silence and stepping back so that Tommy’s hand fell from his arm. “I should go. It’s rude of me to keep them waiting,” he said, gesturing at his hover-car.
“I can’t convince you to come back inside?”
“Not tonight. I’ve had about as much fun as I can take.”
“I wish you’d return,” Tommy said, trying to tamp down his disappointment. “But I understand.”
“Goodnight, Thomas Luna.”
“Tommy.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You can call me Tommy.”
Lambert smiled, warm and bright, and Tommy felt that odd fluttering sensation once again. “In that case, I insist you call me Adam.”
“Fair enough,” Tommy said, returning his smile. “Goodnight…Adam.”
Tommy watched as Lambert walked away and got into his hover-car. Then he raised his arm in a parting gesture as the motors kicked into high gear and the vehicle sailed off, growing smaller and smaller in the distance until it was just another bright spot in the Sorei sky roads. When Lambert’s car was well and truly gone, Tommy sighed and steeled himself before turning back toward the house.
He offered no explanation for his absence when he returned to the banquet room, despite the questioning looks he received from the alphas at the table. Instead, he stared them down-Pittman in particular-daring them to ask their questions aloud. In the end, no one did, choosing instead to launch into renewed posturing. The rest of the banquet passed by in a dull blur for Tommy, like the events were happening a hundred miles away. Finally, blessedly, the gathering ended and Tommy and his family stood in a line at the door once more, seeing off the alphas as they left in small groups.
“What happened with Lambert?” Tommy’s father asked the moment the last alpha was gone.
“Nothing worth telling,” Tommy said, somehow managing to keep his voice level even though the mention of Lambert’s name had set his heart pounding. “I apologized for Pittman’s insult, and he accepted my apology and left.”
“That was all?”
Tommy thought of that moment between them. How Lambert’s eyes had grown dark and how much Tommy had wanted his kiss.
“That was all.”
He couldn’t tell them much more than that, not while the whole evening and his reaction to Lambert was still a hopelessly confused mess in his head. Later, when he spoke to Kris on the telecom, Tommy held his thoughts and feelings close to the vest once again, giving his best friend a strictly factual account of the evening’s events and nothing more. Toward the end, after he’d told Kris about the conversation with Lambert outside the house, Tommy could hear Kris hesitate, clearly wanting to press him further, but he didn’t, and Tommy was silently grateful. After a half hour had passed, they cut the connection with promises to meet up the next day, and finally Tommy was left alone to sift through his thoughts.
He laid in bed for a long while, staring blindly into the distance as he examined each moment, each look, and each word spoken. He thought about how handsome Lambert-no, Adam-had looked with his golden hair and silver-blue eyes and pale skin, all the features Tommy had been taught to despise, but instead of recoiling, he’d been inexorably drawn to Adam. Drawn to his brilliant smile and clear, lyrical voice and the constellations of freckles dotting his skin, each imperfection making him that much more perfect. Tommy had wanted him, he admitted to himself grudgingly. Lying here in the dark, thinking of Adam’s broad shoulders and long legs, his soft lips and dazzling eyes, Tommy still wanted him.
But he wasn’t supposed to want. Pack Law dictated that he had lost that right the moment that the banns were first read for him. In less than four weeks, he would be claimed by the winner at the mating ceremony, whether he wanted the man or not. Until then, during the so-called courtship phase, he was to accept the alphas’ invitations as they arrived, play his part, smile when he was supposed to, laugh when the moment called for it, refuse any overly-forward advances and treat each alpha equally. He could do anything but want.
Tommy shifted around restlessly in his bed. “I’m being ridiculous,” he whispered into the darkness. Even if Pack Law allowed him a choice, surely it was foolish to want Adam? So what if he hadn’t postured and preened at the banquet like the others? He was just like the rest of them, wasn’t he? An alpha looking to claim a prize? But he’d offered to withdraw for Tommy’s sake. Tommy thought about how reluctant he’d sounded. Was it the thought of losing the prize he was after? Or could he have truly wanted me? On and on it went, one question after the other until Tommy finally fell into a fitful sleep just an hour shy of daybreak.
The first invitation arrived just before noon the next day. Tommy had just returned to his workstation following a division meeting that had lasted two incredibly long hours to see his mobile telecom blinking red with a new message. He sat down heavily after he read it, willing the rising bitterness away. He’d known this was coming. These next three weeks were the denouement, the slow march toward the inevitable conclusion at the rise of the full moons.
The courtship phase. It was a bit of a misnomer, the title given to the weeks between the first gathering at the home of the werewolf on offer and the mating ceremony. Calling it courtship implied genuine feeling. Instead it was an insurance process of sorts, a series of outings, one with each prospective mate, to decrease the chances of a beta or omega refusing the winner’s claim at the end of the mating ceremony. As if a few hours at a restaurant or the theater would make him more amenable to the thought of getting mated off to a stranger, Tommy thought derisively, before logging on to his holo-computer and getting back to work on the algorithms he had been programming for four months now.
His dampened mood lasted for the next few hours until he met up with Kris at a canteen halfway between their offices. There, they pored over the details of yesterday’s gathering all over again, both of them purposefully skirting around any mentions of Lambert or Pittman. Later, when Tommy returned to his workstation, he sent off a quick acceptance to the alpha who had sent the invitation. Almost immediately, he received a return comm with details of when and where to meet. He would have to do this twenty-nine more times over the next three weeks, in the morning, the afternoon, at nighttime-whatever the alpha requesting his attendance wanted. Over and over and over again, whether Tommy wanted to or not. Suddenly, he felt incredibly tired. Without giving himself a moment to reconsider, he deactivated his holo-computer, threw on his jacket and left the building. By Pack Law, werewolves in his position were allowed as much work leave as they needed during the courtship phase. He might as well take advantage.
Marcus Aquila looked as disconcerted as Tommy felt. That was the thought that crossed Tommy’s mind as they sat down to their table at Hadrian’s, the restaurant that Aquila had chosen. The alpha was large, all broad shoulders and thick arms and thighs, an overabundance of muscle flexing beneath the navy blue short coat he wore. After they made their orders, Aquila shifted around restlessly in his chair, fingers fiddling with the stem of his wine glass as he seemed to look everywhere but straight at Tommy. Was he nervous because he knew he was the first alpha to do this? For the sake of fairness, the outings were done in alphabetical order. Aquila was top of the list, and in thirteen days, it would be Adam’s turn-not that Tommy had counted. Flushing with guilt, Tommy pushed away the thought of silver-blue eyes and endless freckles and resolved to focus on the man in front of him.
Aquila was a tribune’s son, Tommy recalled vaguely from the reports he’d reviewed and from last night’s introductions. Aquila’s father wasn’t particularly high in the ranks at the Tribunal, but still, he was an important man and someday, he could be even more so. Oh. Tommy narrowed his eyes and leveled a hard look at Aquila. Perhaps that was it. It was easy to imagine a politician looking to improve his standing pressuring his eldest son into sending a proposal for the Victory Child. That must be it, Tommy thought, finally relaxing for the first time since he’d arrived. Aquila didn’t want to be here either, which meant that they were kindred spirits in a way. It was alright to let down his guard. And so he did.
Somewhere between the first and second course, they reached an equilibrium, and the conversation flowed faster and easier between them. Aquila was something of a historian, as it turned out, which is how they wound up talking about the Boeshane civil war and the Pretorian migration five thousand years ago-or really, Aquila talked and Tommy listened.
“You could be a history professor,” Tommy said afterward.
“I wanted to be, but my father didn’t approve. A military career is more fitting for a future tribune, he said. And so, here I am.”
Aquila looked pained for a moment before he forced out some laughter and quickly segued into another topic. His Seconds joined them for the final part of the outing, as was the custom, and all four sat through the dessert course together, chatting idly about current affairs. In the end, the evening wasn’t the absolute disaster it could have been, Tommy decided later as he dressed for bed. It wouldn’t be so awful, being mated to Marcus Aquila. Maybe, as the decades passed, they could even grow to be good friends. He wasn’t so bad-but he’s nothing compared to Adam. Tommy clamped down on the traitorous voice in his head. Nothing good would come of thoughts like that.
But no matter what Tommy did, thoughts of Adam kept cropping up. A woman’s blouse in a shade of blue on the way to work the next morning that reminded him of Adam’s eyes. A co-worker he’d never noticed before who walked almost like Adam did. The old-fashioned fountain pen in his supervisor’s office that gleamed golden in the sunlight like Adam’s hair. By the time the second invitation arrived that morning inviting him to a luncheon, Tommy was a mess, suddenly seeing Adam Lambert in every detail. He fired off his acceptance immediately, almost glad for the invitation. Perhaps it was what he needed, a firm reminder of the game and the rules that governed it. This was a public claiming, not some schoolyard romance, and Tommy would do well to remember that.
If Tommy had arrived with greater expectations for the outing after his evening with Marcus Aquila, he was soon dragged back down to base level. This alpha droned on forever, reciting his family’s history and listing off every piece of land he owned and all his bank account balances, barely letting Tommy get a word in edgewise. When he was done with that, the man moved on to the roles of alphas and omegas, and what he expected from his future mate, which apparently was one hundred percent blind obedience and zero percent original thought. By the time the alpha’s Seconds arrived, Tommy had long given up, staring at them blankly and counting down the minutes until he could leave.
On the walk back to work, Tommy kept his head low as that familiar bitterness churned low in his gut. In less than three weeks, he could be mated to that alpha, irrevocably bonded and expected to kowtow to him for the next one hundred years. Tommy let out a pained groan at that thought and began to walk faster, cutting through the crowded sidewalks until he reached the massive tower where his division of the Chamber of Defense worked. When he returned to his workstation, he flung his jacket aside with a touch more force than absolutely necessary and sat down. Then he pulled out his mobile telecom to give Kris a quick update on the afternoon only to see his display flashing red with an unread comm.
I hope the rest of the banquet went well.
Tommy checked the frequency code of the sender but found that he didn’t recognize it. He frowned at the display for a brief moment before it clicked into place. Adam Lambert. It had to be. Who else would be asking about the rest of the banquet? Adam and his Seconds had been the only ones to leave before it was officially over. But how had he gotten Tommy’s frequency code? Tommy read the message again. Of course. Lambert may be half-vampire, but he was rich, and that second fact likely mattered more to a good number of people. A few hundred lakhs promised to some telecom operator and Lambert would’ve gotten all the information he wanted in an instant. But should he respond? His outing with Lambert was still several days away. They weren’t supposed to communicate until then. Tommy knew the rules. Still debating, he turned the device over in his hand. Then he did it again. And again. On the fourth iteration, he made up his mind.
As well as could be expected, he replied.
They were reporting about your outings on the midday broadcasts today. Are you enjoying yourself?
I seriously considered clawing out my eardrums with a salad fork this afternoon. What do you think? Tommy couldn’t help a half-smile as he sent the reply.
Adam’s return comm came in fifteen seconds later. I hope you didn’t tell him that. We alphas may act tough but our egos are fragile.
And oversized too.
You wound me.
Tommy chuckled when the message came in. I don’t mince words. You’ve been warned, he wrote back.
Good to know.
Tommy held the telecom in his hand, re-reading Adam’s last comm over and over again, fingers idly tracing over the cerileum glass screen. A brief while passed before he caught himself, realizing with a start that he’d been grinning like an idiot for the better part of a minute, waiting for Adam to send him a new message. He dropped the telecom instantly and pushed it off to the side of his desk. For the next hour or so, he went back to work on his algorithms, pretending all the while that he wasn’t checking his telecom every few minutes, watching out of the corner of his eyes and waiting for the display to flash red again with an incoming comm. When it finally happened, he picked up the device in a flash, excitement rising, only to have his hopes dashed away when he saw that it was just another invitation to an outing. He grudgingly fired off his acceptance, hating the way disappointment curled low in his belly. He had wanted it to be Adam so badly.
That evening, he found himself still wishing this latest alpha was Adam. Peter Bennett was a jewel trader specializing in Andorran diamonds-a fact which sent Tommy on a brief spiral into thoughts of Adam’s eyes before he managed to steer himself back to the conversation at hand. Not that his attention lapse really mattered, because like the last alpha, this one barely let him speak and very obviously only half-listened when Tommy spoke. Maybe that was why he didn’t seem to hear the words “stop” and “breaking Pack Law” the first four times Tommy said them in the restaurant’s parking lot when Bennett escorted Tommy to his hover-car and crowded him against the door, hands roving all over Tommy and mouth straining to meet his. Although, to his credit, Bennett definitely did seem to be paying attention when Tommy snapped the man’s wrist and shoved him to the ground, growling as his wolf rose to the surface. All in all, a good time was had by no one-and still twenty-seven more to go.
Tommy was staring at his computer screen listlessly the next day, irritation still simmering close to the surface from yesterday’s events, when his telecom blinked red on his desk, announcing an incoming comm. Tommy reached out and tapped the screen. Adam. Instantly, he sat up straighter, senses suddenly at high alert. He looked over his shoulder guiltily, eyes sweeping over his co-workers at their workstations nearby. No one was paying attention to him, but still he hesitated, starting at Adam’s frequency code. He shouldn’t. Once was excusable, twice was blatant disregard for Pack Law. He shouldn’t let himself be drawn into another conversation with Adam outside the public claiming process. Tommy knew that and yet, after another moment’s hesitation, he tapped his screen again and read Adam’s comm.
You were on the morning broadcasts today.
Tommy cringed inwardly. Kris had woken him up with a comm earlier in the morning alerting him to the same thing. Oh? he typed back.
I guess I don’t have to ask how your evening went if it ended in a fight.
It was hardly a fight, Tommy replied, replaying last night’s scene in his head.
Uh…you broke his wrist.
I gave him fair warning. Not my fault if he wasn’t listening.
You know, you really ought to see a professional about these violent tendencies of yours.
Tommy grinned, imagining Adam’s playful smile on the other end. I’m a werewolf, he replied. And worse, I’m omega. I should see a professional if I DIDN’T have violent tendencies.
Hahaha. Fair enough. So I guess I’ve got the rules clear for our turn: show up on time and keep my hands to myself?
Tommy thought about Adam’s hands, how large and strong they’d looked, how powerful. He imagined Adam’s hand wrapped loosely around his throat while Adam kissed him…or pressed firmly against the back of his neck while Adam fucked him. Unconsciously, he raised his hand to his throat, fingertips skimming his suddenly flushed skin while he wondered what it would be like. He’d been taken before, but no alpha had ever tied with him. Because of the irreversible chemical imprinting that happened during a full mating, Pack Law restricted marking and knotting to mated pairs only. Tommy had always wondered, idle thoughts that never led anywhere-certainly not far enough to disobey Pack Law or risk his life with an illegal imprinting. But there was nothing idle about his thoughts now as his mind teased him with laser-sharp images of Adam’s strong hands holding him down, of Adam’s large body thrusting between his thighs, tying with him, making him take it, making him love it.
Blushing hotly, Tommy ducked his head at his workstation, irrationally certain that his co-workers could see his thoughts written all over his face. Looking down, he read Adam’s last message again. Keep my hands to myself.
I’d make an exception for you, Tommy thought-and very nearly replied too, before his common sense prevailed. Quickly, he deleted the response and typed a new one.
Look at that. You’re learning already, he replied, hoping Adam wouldn’t say anything about the long pause.
Help me learn some more then.
What do you mean?
Well, I have to plan the perfect outing for you, don’t I? Least I could do, really, considering your bad luck so far. So tell me, what do you do for fun? Do you like the theater? Music? What’s your favorite color?
Tommy chuckled at the barrage of questions. My favorite color?
Sure. I’d hate to show up dressed head to toe in green only to find out you hate the color.
Head to toe green?! Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of fashion icon? That’s what the broadcasters say.
We all make mistakes.
Tommy thought of how immaculate Adam had looked at the banquet. I can’t imagine you making a mistake.
You’re right. I’m practically perfect, really.
Tommy bit down on his lip to hold in his laughter. Ah, there’s that alpha ego.
So, cut me down to size. Tell me everything there is to know about you and quiz me afterward. You’re welcome to mock me if I don’t remember.
That was how they wound up talking for hours, countless messages sent back and forth as Adam fired off questions at breakneck speed and Tommy hurried to answer each one, pulse racing and fingers fumbling across his telecom screen in his haste. By the end of Tommy’s workday, he’d told Adam all about growing up in Sorei, about summers spent at the military training camp in Biishkek, his love of music and theater, his friendship with Kris and his work at the Chamber of Defense. Somewhere in between, Tommy had managed to shake some details loose about Adam as well, brief stories about his childhood in the Kaduna territory and his life so far in Sorei. It was no more than they would have shared at their outing, Tommy reasoned to himself when guilt hit him hard on his drive home. They hadn’t crossed any lines today, and besides, it was just this once.
Only, it wasn’t. The very next day, Tommy’s screen blinked red with a comm from Adam and once again, he hurried to answer it, ignoring his work and losing an hour to aimless conversation, struggling to hide his smiles and bursts of laughter at Adam’s jokes and stories. It happened over and over again during the next several days, minutes and hours whiled away talking to Adam about music, politics, theater, fashion, travel-anything they happened to stumble upon in the time stolen between Tommy’s algorithms and Adam’s business meetings. At the beginning, Tommy would hesitate when he saw Adam’s frequency code on his screen, telling himself that he shouldn’t, resolving firmly that he wouldn’t. But he always broke, lasting all of five minutes before he grabbed his telecom and fired off a response to Adam and shifted around restlessly afterward, waiting anxiously for a reply.
By the fifth day, they began talking outside of Tommy’s workday, meandering conversations that weaved in and out of early mornings and late nights. Sometimes, after an outing with an alpha, he would check his telecom to find a stockpile of unread messages from Adam, a stream of consciousness chain of idle observations and vague snippets of stories. Sometimes, Tommy was the one sending the chain of messages while Adam was stuck in a meeting or presentation, typing out random thoughts as they occurred to him and smiling when he imagined Adam reading them later and laughing because of something Tommy had written, silver-blue eyes glittering in the light.
I shouldn’t. I won’t. Resolutions made and broken in the same breath, until seven days in, Tommy barely heard the warning voice in his head, the one that cautioned against breaking the rules, the one that reminded him that Adam was just another alpha jostling for position, working the advantage he’d found to its fullest effect. Tommy couldn’t want him, shouldn’t want him, except he did-he did.
By the time Tommy finally told Kris what he had been doing, he didn’t hear that warning voice anymore. He couldn’t, not when his head was filled to capacity with thoughts of Adam.
“Are you listening to yourself?”
Tommy paused mid-sentence and stared blankly at Kris. For the first time in what felt like ages, Tommy had been free for the evening and Kris had joined Tommy’s family for dinner earlier in the night. After the meal, they’d gone up to Tommy’s room, sat down on his bed and made idle conversation, until Kris mentioned Adam and Tommy had broken-unable to hold it back anymore. Tripping over his words in his nervousness and excitement, he told Kris about their messages, about Adam’s razor-sharp wit and easy humor and the way he always seemed to know exactly what Tommy was thinking.
“Seriously,” Kris continued, “are you listening to yourself? You sound like you’re in-”
“Don’t say it,” Tommy said hurriedly before Kris could finish. He couldn’t bear to hear the words said out loud.
Kris gave him a hard look. “What are you doing, Tommy? Do you even know?”
“I know it’s wrong to talk to him. I know I’m breaking Pack Law.”
“Pack Law? That’s hardly your biggest problem.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that this could all be a game to him. Have you thought about that? Lambert is a business man. Ten years ago, he came to Sorei with almost nothing and now he’s one of the richest alphas in the city. You don’t make a fortune that quickly unless you know how to spot weaknesses and press your advantage. What makes you think he isn’t doing that with you? If he can make you care, then he’s guaranteed an acceptance if he wins at the mating ceremony. And if he loses, he can rest assured that you’ll refuse the winner and give him a chance to claim you again.”
“Don’t you think I’ve thought about that?” Tommy ran a hand through his hair roughly. “I’m not a complete idiot.”
“I never said-” Kris broke off and shifted closer to Tommy. When he spoke again, his voice was pitched lower. “I’m sorry, Tommy, but I can’t let you lose sight of the fact that he sent a proposal same as all the other alphas looking to claim the Victory Child. And maybe that’s all this is to him: winning a prize.”
“I know.”
“And even if he is sincere, he may not win. Chances are twenty-nine out of thirty that he’ll lose. And then where will you be?”
“Nowhere.”
Tommy laid down on the bed, suddenly exhausted, and flung an arm over his face. A moment later, Kris laid down beside him.
“I have to stop this,” Tommy whispered. “I have to end it with him.”
Kris squeezed his hand but said nothing.
PART 3