A NEW SEASON
“Hey Bonehead, where are you?”Jasper’s voice arrives in my mind without warning. Not that I mind.“Don’t tell me,”he continues, an amused smile audible in his tone,“you’re running late?”
“I’m almost there!”Easily, I’m able to access the connection between our wolf-brains. Though of course, the truth is I’m farther away than I’d like to be.
Right now, I’m hustling down Tenth Avenue, sprinting uptown to the packhouse.
Though I still can’t seem to manage showing up places on time, at least these days I can let Jasper know without texting and running, which, as history has shown, usually ends with me crashing into something or someone.
After his brush with death last year––the shooting and that moment at the hospital when I thought I’d maybe lost Jasper forever––we were able to access our mind-link, and I still get pumped every time we’re able to communicate without words. A skill that’s come in very handy as we’ve continued to be long-distance mates while Jasper has been away at Harvard or traveling on pack business. If it means he’s alive and well, Jasper can interrupt my runaway train of thought any day.
“Just hurry, okay?”he says.“I can’t wait to see you.”
As I cross the street, grinning despite how much I wish I wasn’t running right now, I catch a glimpse of the setting sun, all peach and violet, reflecting on the Hudson, casting rays between the high-rises of Manhattan. It’s summer in New York, which means it’s hot. And running means I’m sweating like nothingelse, praying to the moon gods my maroon dinner jacket will hide the overt pit stains on my dress shirt.
I’m sort of excited about tonight. Any excuse to hang with Jasper and eat free canapés is a reason to get out of bed, but tonight is the Blue Moon Celebration, a pack party I didn’t even know happened, but apparently does, a few weeks before every Blue Moon Festival. It’s a chance for members of the Elite Pack to celebrate a new crop of matings, at least, the members who’ve warranted an invite, and for the High Moon Priest to bless this year’s attendees and announce who will be in charge of the festival. This is the first year I’ll be attending, not just as a member of the pack, but as the mate of the alpha’s son.
Oh and did I mention Jasper looks hella sexy in formal wear?
Holy moly, do I not want to show up wheezing and sopping wet.
When I reach the packhouse, I stop for a moment to stare up at the towering building, the glass panels reflecting the sunset, and I flap the lapels of my jacket, hoping to cool myself a little before I step inside.
“I’m here,”I tell Jasper.“I just need—”
“An energy drink and a comb?” Jasper says, not in my mind this time, but for real. I spin and find him emerging from the shadows under the building’s awning. He was waiting for me.
Gush.
“No, I just need a minute. Is it that bad?” I ask, trying to smooth down my curls which have most likely frizzed into an untamable nest.
Jasper grins, stepping toward me and taking my furiously working hands in his, holding them still. He places them at my sides, then rubs his hands down my shoulders, holding me just above the elbow.
“You look amazing,” he says, all the stars of the galaxy shining in his stupidly green eyes.
I roll mine. “You have to say that.”
He shrugs. “You always look amazing. What can I do?”
I glance behind him, to where Verity is waiting with her cat’s-eye glasses and her tablet to check in the guests as they arrive.
“Have you been in? What’s it like up there?”
“The same old crusty elite I assume,” he says. “But I haven’t been up yet. I wanted to arrive with you.”
I melt in his grip. “You didn’t have to—”
“Max,” he says, the firmness in his voice stopping me cold. “I don’t mind waiting for you. I’ll always wait for you.”
That’s enough for me. I go in for a kiss, planting my lips on Jasper’s and running my fingers up the back of his head, probably mussing up his perfectly slicked-back style. He returns my kiss with equal intensity, pulling our bodies closer, so our chests are pressed against each other. If we weren’t standing on the street or about to walk into a party full of the most important wolves of the Elite Pack, I would want to do a lot more than kiss Jasper right now, but despite how close we’ve become over this last year, I still have some sense of decency. So for right now, kissing will have to do. Although I have slipped one hand as low as humanly possible into the small of his firm back.
As we pull apart, a growl rolls in Jasper’s throat, his fangs have elongated ever so slightly, one catching on his bottom lip in a way that stirs some intense feeling in my stomach. I don’t need a mind-link to know he was thinking similarly filthy thoughts.
“Get a room,” a familiar voice says, interrupting our steamy sidewalk moment. We step back awkwardly, Jasper standing at a funny angle and pulling his black satin jacket closed in a way which makes me think he was even more excited than I’d thought.
“You spying on us, Squishface?” he asks his little sister. Jodie has just stepped out of the back of a sleek black town car, with a couple of friends in tow. She’s wearing a canary-yellow dress complete with black Chucks—which is very Bella Swan of her—and an unimpressed expression that, I think, means she’s gotten too old for that nickname.
“I don’t need to spy if you’re going to make out on the street,” she volleys back.Touché.
