Eugenia Barrett is fucking gorgeous. Thick brown hair, dark brown eyes, a few freckles, and full lips drawn into a nervous line. She's not tall but not diminutive. Plenty of curve and muscle. Motherfucking gorgeous. Her scent floats toward us on the gentle breeze, and I fight the urge to drag in a lungful of it.
My stomach turns.
And then I feel it.
Oh, Goddess.
My Goddess, why? Why this cruelty?
Cross's sudden stillness crushes any hope I had harbored that everything, or anything, will be okay. He breathes deeply, his eyes closing as her scent becomes the most important thing in his world.
She's actually his mate. His true Luna. His Goddess-blessed mate.
Goddesscursed.
He will be hers. He will never be mine again. I can already feel their bond crowding me out, and it hasn't even been formed yet. She will be everything to him. His moon will rise and set within her, and I will be no more to him than his Second ever again.
Don't look at her.
Please.
Please don't look at her. Keep looking at me.
Please.
I don't care if she's his mate. I don't care that our pack and hers have had this ceremony planned for years. I don't care about the potential for another war.
I don't care.
He's mine. I'm his. She's just some girl.
Please don't look at her.
Cross's eyes don't leave mine as the expected hush winds through the two gathered packs when his mate begins making her way down the path between them. Her footsteps are light. Nervous. I wouldn't be nervous. If Deanna were in her position, she would run down the path to Cross. She wouldn't creep through the leaves on the balls of her feet like a terrified rabbit.
Cross's mate is young, though. Four years younger than him. Two younger than me. Her pack wanted to do this part of the mating ceremony when she was ten, but Cross's father refused. He wanted both her and Cross to be old enough to truly understand what was happening and what it would mean for the future. She's finally seventeen, and Alpha Cross has been acceptably assured that both she and his son understand everything about what their lives together will mean.
And now I'm standing next to Cross, with his desperate eyes boring into mine like his very life depends on maintaining that eye contact.
He doesn't want this. He doesn't want her. He wants us. It's always been us; whatever that was, it was always him and me. He could have us if it weren't for politics and predestination.
Her tentative footsteps get closer and closer until she's standing right behind Cross.
"Drew Cross, future Alpha of the Cross-Barrett Pack, turn and greet your mate." Alpha Cross's voice travels through the clearing like a funeral bell.
Cross swallows harshly, his throat clicking thickly. He's never seen her. He wouldn't look at the pictures, and he always stayed holed up in my room with me whenever her father brought her for a diplomatic visit.
Just keep looking at me, Cross. Please.
We've spent the last six years talking about what he was going to do when this happened, but now that we're in the moment, it's different from every conversation we've ever had. Cross looks like he's going to vomit. The war between knowing what's expected of him and what his heart wants is painfully etched into his face.
If I were a better person, if I were less selfish, I would relinquish my claim on him for the good of our pack and let him go peacefully to his mate; but he doesn't want her. Iknowhe doesn't.
His grip on my forearm tightens with the breath he takes to speak. "I reject the mating. I reject Eugenia Barrett."
I watch her fall to the ground behind him. The sound of her knees hitting the dirt and leaves is loud in the silence. She desperately grabs at her chest the same moment Cross's grip on my arms turns bruising. His nails dig into my skin as her breaths come in shattered spurts.
Then he walks away.
