“We gather tonight to honor the ancient tradition of the mating lottery,” she intones. “A tradition that binds us together, strengthens our unity, and guides compatible souls toward one another through magic older than memory.”
I’ve heard variations of this speech at every lottery since I was a kid, but this time, my attention is scattered across the crowd. Fern and Connor stand near the front, and Luna and Nic occupy the elevated platform with the other members of the inner circle. Their bonds are visible in the way they angle theirbodies toward each other without seeming to realize they’re doing it.
Everywhere I look, there are mated pairs. Everywhere I look, there’s proof that the lottery works.
“Tonight, we welcome all eligible wolves into the drawing,” Elder Amelia continues, and my attention drifts. I’ve heard this part before. The rules, the traditions, the ancient magic that supposedly guides the selection. My gaze wanders across the crowd, and that’s when I spot him.
Bryan is standing near the edge of the gathering, half-hidden in the shadows between two torches. My stomach lurches at the sight of him, and I have to tear my attention away before he catches me staring.
Why is he here? Attendance is mandatory, but he just got back. Surely Nic would have given him a pass for tonight.
Luna steps forward to stir the contents of the bowl, blessing the selection with whatever magic she possesses before Ameia reaches inside, and her wrinkled fingers disappear among the folded slips of paper. The crowd holds its collective breath as Amelia draws the first slip of paper. She unfolds it slowly, and her eyes move across the name written there.
“Bryan Dinac.”
My blood turns to ice.
No. No, no, no.
I look back toward where he’s standing. His posture has gone rigid, and his hands are clenched at his sides. Even from here, I can see the shock written across his face.
This isn’t happening. This cannot be happening.
Amelia reaches into the bowl once more. My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat, though I’m not sure why. There are dozens of eligible females in the pack. Dozens of names still in that bowl. The odds of my being drawn are impossibly slim.
She draws the second slip and unfolds it, and I hold my breath.
“Skylar Reyes.”
The world tilts sideways.
I hear cheering. I see faces turning toward me, smiling and celebrating. Someone claps me on the shoulder—James, I think, though I can’t be sure because my vision has gone fuzzy. The noise crashes over me, but I can’t process any of it.
My name. They drew my name.
For Bryan.
I’m going to be sick.
Across the Hollow, Bryan is staring at me. His gray eyes are wide, and his mouth is open. The bond between us comes to life, pulsing with recognition, with want, with a decade of suppressed longing I’ve never been able to fully kill.
He starts making his way through the crowd, pushing past celebrating pack members who try to congratulate him. His eyes never leave my face. They stay locked on me, making my skin prickle. He’s coming toward me, and I know if he reaches me, if he touches me, every wall I’ve built will come crumbling down.
So I do the only thing I can think of.
I run.
I turn and shove through the crowd, ignoring the confused shouts behind me. Ruby calls my name, but I don’t stop. My feet carry me away from the Hollow, away from the torches and the cheering and the man I’ve spent ten years trying to forget.
The forest swallows me whole, and I keep running until I can’t hear anything but my own ragged breathing and the pounding of my heart.
Chapter 3 - Bryan
Skylar vanishes into the forest before I can shove my way through the crowd to reach her.
I push past the celebrating pack members and ignore the hands grabbing at my shoulders. Someone shouts my name, but I don’t stop to see who. Connor steps into my path with his mouth open to say something, and I sidestep him without breaking stride. The only thing I care about is the woman who just bolted into the trees like her life depended on getting away from me.
Maybe it does. Maybe seeing my face again is the worst thing that’s happened to her in years, and she’d rather take her chances with the forest at night than spend another second breathing the same air as me.
