The ceremony was a near mirror of the one from antiquity. Sacrifice and thanks, sex and sweat. The wolves’ eventual run was to take place counterclockwise around the hill upon which the Greenbridge Glen estate sat, mimicking the run around the Lupercal, ending with the captured couples mating in an adrenaline-fueled frenzy. First, though, came the ritual.
Her inattention had caused her to be towards the back of the room once the ceremony finally got underway, and so she did not see the luperci priests ascend the makeshift altar; did not see the anointing of blood and milk and oil, and only heard the echoes of the ceremonial laughter. Pomp and tradition, ageless and endless, a celebration of what they were and where they had come from. Grayson liked the pageantry of events like this, something older than any of them that still lived in their bones. He might be a self-centered prick most of the time, but when the opportunity arose for observance, he was as devout as a pack elder, turning his nose up to any half-hearted celebration, and she found she quite agreed with the sentiment. And sincehisnose was the only one that counted, the others did exactly what he wanted.
They gave thanks to the mother who nourished, paid homage to the first wolves who founded an empire and raised their voices to join in a ceremonial chant. The chase might be the fun part, but the ceremony was a crucial element in the evening’s enjoyment, and if she focused hard enough, Vanessa was certain she could smell the olive blossom and honeyed wine carried on the air from that first, ancient ritual. Her eyes slipped shut, soaking it all in.
She was too far away to see the altar, but the distance had its benefits, for she was in a perfect position to observe the wolves as they entered. The headdresses completely concealed their identity but did little to hide their nakedness as they moved in a procession to the altar. The Brotherhood of the Wolf, a sacred sect born in antiquity, their practices still alive and well amongst modern werewolves, particularly in Cambric Creek. The men were short and tall, stocky and muscular, bare cocks in various stages of hardness and flaccidity, unidentifiable and anonymous. Her wolf squirmed, wondering how many of them would pursue her, whose lashes she would feel as they moved through the crowd.
Other Lupercalia celebrations used more pedestrian methods of choosing pairings — names placed in jars and pulled randomly, the paired-off couple disappearing for the rest of the evening, but such lukewarm arrangements had no place at these festivities. Sex and sweat and screams were part and parcel of the ceremony, and they would not have it any other way. The celebration was primal in nature, thetrueold ways, as she’d learned over the last handful of years, when wolves were given the freedom to run and hunt, chasing their prey until submission, their coupling a prize to be won and not a game of chance for children. Any of these men might have her, and that was simply the nature of the evening.
That this year’s ceremony took place so close to the full moon was happenstance, but a delicious one. The wolves would be heated and ready, their animalistic tendencies rising and their knots swelling every time their cocks grew hard, their breeding instincts triggered by the smell of women in heat. The seat-fillers would fill in the gaps adequately, and every wolf in attendance would get his dick wet by the end of the night, but there would only be a handful of others advertising their readiness. She wouldn’t be the only one with a heat simmering shallowly beneath her skin, eager to be filled and fucked, but she knew from celebrations past that the numbers would be uneven, the she-wolves in shorter supply, making the ones who were there — like her — an even more desirable prize to be won.And he does love to win.
“What do we have to do?!” It was the human from earlier, the excitement over newly-acquired gossip washed away in a tide of panic, now that she realized there was more to the night than simply looking pretty.
Vanessa frowned. It wouldn’t do to have the girl swept up in something she wasn’t prepared for, not if she might claim she was forced later.
“Youdounderstand what this night is about, right?” It wouldn’t do to have complaints of dodgy consent, would reflect poorly on all of them. “If you don’t want to participate, you should go upstairs now. You can hang back and watch with the other gawkers.”
“No, I-I do! I know, I mean. The werewolves . . . I’m going to hook up with a werewolf. But what do I have to do?!”
She smiled at the girl, knowing her canines were longer this close to the turn.
“Well, you have to run. The chase is the fun part. If you don’t run, you’ll be taken as an easy prize.”
“Is that bad?”
By then, the drums had given up any pretense of being anything other than a heartbeat for the crowd to churn against. Vanessa shrugged, gathering herself for what she knew was coming.
“I suppose not. Not if you don’t care who catches you.”
She heard the first partygoers cry out far behind them, the first slap of the leather against bare skin, and then they were off. The human girl squealed, making for the wall, and Vanessa bounced on her toes. She’d never been this far back in the crowd, and the rising tide of people cresting like a wave in her direction made her cry out in excitement, pivoting on the balls of her feet to dart out of the way. She serpentined along the side of the surge, waiting for the moment that the crowd split, and as soon as she saw her opening, she darted into the melee.Thiswas where she was meant to be. In the midst of the running, whipping wolves, dodging the other partygoers as leather thongs struck the back of her thighs.
To her left, a woman screamed in laughter, shrieking shrilly when she was pulled from behind, an arm encircling her waist and lifting her off her feet. Vanessa dodged around bodies, determined not to be caught that easily. The wolves who claimed women in the ballroom were opportunists — positioning themselves strategically throughout the crowd, so they didn’t need to compete to find their mate for the night. She supposed they were worried about a scarcity in prospects, as if there would ever be a shortage of women at any event he threw. She had no intention of being taken by that sort of hedge-betting strategist. She wanted torun, and any wolf that tried to claim her as the spoils of their victory would need to chase.
As she suspected, it did not take long for the well-heeled guests to lose a bit of their polished shine. She passed Tris Tatterswain near the base of the staircase, his arm around a braying woman with long, blonde hair and the neckline of her dress around her waist, her full breast cupped and overflowing from the palm of his hand. All through the crowd, clothing was shed and dropped; pulled away by the hands of staff hired to work the event, making way for the naked, wolf-headed men to weave through the throngs of people, wielding short lengths of leather, striking out at the women who deliberately got in their way.
The short one came after her first. The one from against the wall with the filthy mouth, catching sight of her as he careened through the crowd, swinging his leather thong back and cracking it against her thighs as she got hung up behind a petite goblin, one she recognized from the only adult entertainment shop in Cambric Creek, who was currently caught between whip-bearers who’d come up from the sides. His cock was short and thick like the rest of him, fully engorged and flush to his stomach, his foreskin already retracted to show a dark, hungry tip.
The foul-mouthed stranger was transparent in his desires and would no doubt be a satisfying prelude to the main course for the evening, and if this were any other night, any other celebration, she might enjoy bouncing astride his hips . . . but Vanessa knew her wolf would not be satisfied; knew the overwhelming need that rippled beneath her skin would not be quelled by him. Besides, she thought, skirting out of the way of a stumbling couple, he wanted to play the alpha with her, and while she clearly had a weakness for bossy, commanding men, her patience for taking orders was only so much, and that slot was currently filled.
Unlike some of the other guests, the stola she’d worn was designed for practicality, skimming above her knees and gathered at the shoulders, an athletic silhouette, perfect for running. She swung out of the way of the short man’s whip, hopping on one foot and then the other, quickly relieving herself of her patent leather heels before darting back through the center of the press of bodies until she was confident she had lost him.
Bracing, midwinter air gusted in from the open doors at the back of the house, opening up to a wide veranda, steps leading down to an expansive lawn, and the ring of dark forest beyond. It was the forest she wanted. She wanted to run,neededto run, needed to let her wolf feel the wind in her hair, with nothing but the moon and sky overhead, outrunning all of her pursuers but the fastest, and she didn’t want to do so on the pavement or across the lawn. There was no sport in that, no hunt, the chase a necessary part of the thrill of being captured.
The sharp bite of leather stung across the back of her thighs once more as a tall man approached her from the rear, swinging the whip back with fervor. Vanessa felt the crack against her skin a second time, then a third, nearly stumbling on the fourth, attempting to weave around the bodies surrounding her in an effort to get away. The man dodged, ducking back around the laughing couple who slowed her progress, managing to catch her once more. That he could have been anyone was the most exciting part, setting her heart hammering in her throat. The yacht club hottie, the handsome blonde with the pointed chin who’d been in the first conversation circle she’d abandoned . . . doctors, lawyers, bankers, company presidents — they were all here, rubbing elbows with art students and baristas, entry-level administrative assistants, part-time realtors . . . this wolf could have been any of the above.
He was tall, tall and somewhat broad-shouldered, and for the briefest moment, her blood thrilled as he caught her around the waist, thinking it washim. The scent of her captor caught her nose then — warm, golden-brown, dusty dirt roads and sun-dappled trees, and a watery cool, aquamarine-scented cologne that made her nose twitch, and she knew he was not the one, bore scant resemblance to the only wolf she hoped would chase her. He was not broad enough through the chest, his washboard abs too sculpted, his body honed for aesthetic instead of strength, and his smell was all wrong. His cock was hard, though, jutting out like a handle, and she gripped it as he swung her out of the crowd's path. Long with a steel-like firmness, he was longer than she was used to, and her cervix winced in her body. As her fist tightened around him, she decided he did not possess the girth she liked, the solid thickness that reliably made her scream in pleasure, and that if she were settling for a lesser wolf, she would have been better off with the stranger from the wall.
Vanessa twisted out of his arms, giving him a flashing smile of her own as he feinted, reaching for her again. Escaping his persistence was no easy feat, but she managed to find another break in the crowd, sprinting through bodies until the sharp night air sliced at her bare arms and legs. There was a sense of claustrophobia within the press of partygoers, people shrieking and laughing, jostling each other as they half ran, half-staggered along, and she increasingly felt as if she were being carried upon a fast-moving current rather than being fully in control, a sensation she could not abide. Leaning forward, she barreled through the bodies in front of her, cresting the wave until she was the lone leader, making for the doors.
She wondered, for the first time, as the open doors beckoned her forward, what would happen if Trapp were to be the one who caught her. The shock of the possibility made her slow for the space of several heartbeats, leaving her vulnerable to the wolves at her back, but for that brief moment, she didn’t care. He was also tall and solid with muscle, athletic and fast, and he would undoubtedly be able to outrun most of the other wolves in attendance. His smell was one her nose knew, painfully similar to the wolf she wanted. In the heat of the moment, her nose might be tricked, the lust spurned on by the chase demanding to be satisfied, his similarity to Grayson in height and build and smell leaving her confused, and he might fuck her in the mud, right there on the edge of the treeline, and no one would ever need to know.
Nothing could be held against them on the night of the wolf, for the night was about the chase, and there were no repercussions for the couplings that might occur. Her mind conjured an image of his body curled over hers — solid and sculpted, hips pistoning, leaves in her hair, his cock hitting her in just the right spot, pushing his knot into her as he came . . . and then his smile.
His bright, mega-watt, panty-melting smile, the one that had the whole of Cambric Creek wrapped around his little finger, and her being forced to bear the brightness of that smile and the sparkle in his dark eyes, contemplating what they’d done until his knot subsided . . .
Vanessa cackled in laughter, shrieking when a leather thong caught the back of her thigh. It was the short stranger again, more determined to have her than she’d previously given him credit for. She continued to laugh as she threw herself forward, weaving through bodies until she was at the front of the press, bursting first out the veranda doors.He would have the wolf head on, you wouldn’t need to see him . . . but Trapp isn’t going to catch you.He would undoubtedly be a satisfying fuck, but the night would end eventually, and she’d be reminded that he was too bright and sunny for her liking, that he possessed a fiery temper instead icy aloofness, and that he wasn’t the one she was running for.
Her toes curled over the edge of each concrete step as she hopped down, squealing when her toes hit the icy cold grass. It had been warm that week, an unusual spike in temperature for mid-February, but the forest would still be chilled in icy cold water, muddy from the melted snow. The thought did not slow her.Run, rabbit, run. She’d not been the only one to take to the outdoors. As soon as her feet hit the grass, Vanessa could hear the other revelers spilling out of the ballroom at her back, pausing in her retreat to eye the crowd.
