Lyric peered around the trunk of a large tree at the several figures walking up the narrow path that led to her Village. They were all clad in dark, semi-formal clothing, but that was all she could make out from her place on the hill. She could, however, catch their scent when the wind blew just right and she knew that they were like her. Rather, they were like the others in her Pack. No one was like her. She was a misfit, even in the werewolf world.
"Jesus, here you are," a voice said and she spun around. "Quit spying on the Alpha and his family. Lyla's expecting you back at the house."
"I already told her that there's no point in me taking part in the damn Ritual tonight," she groaned, rolling her eyes. "He's not going to pick me, Bryan."
"Lyric," Bryan sighed, shoulders slumping. "C'mon, you're twenty-three and still aren't mated to anyone."
"As if you have any room to talk," she growled. "You're a year older and aren't mated either."
"Well, I haven't met the right girl yet," he shrugged. "Now, come on. Lyla will kill me if I don't get you back in time to get ready."
"Bryan," she whined.
"Nope," he said with a firm tone and a shake of his head. "Let's go."
"What if I refuse?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Lyla told me to use force if I had to," Bryan said.
"You wouldn't freaking dare," she growled.
"I will if I have to. Lyric, please don't make this impossible," he sighed.
She glared at him for a moment before softening her stance and letting out a deep sigh. Her sister wouldn't let her worm her way out of this. No way in hell. It was an important deal. Bryan smiled and extended his hand. Lyric walked by him, slapping at his hand, and started making the walk back to her small home.
"My God, finally!" Lyla all but screamed when Lyric walked in. "You are so late. I have the generator on so you can get a shower. No soaps with perfume. Light deodorant. You know the drill. We've gone over it a million times. I set your outfit on the bed. You've got no more than twenty minutes to get your ass to the Clearing."
"Twenty minutes!" she scoffed. "Lyla, it takes that long for me to just rinse my hair!"
"If you'd come with Bryan right away instead of putting up a fight and being your stubborn self, you'd have twice that time to get ready. Now, quit wasting time and get moving."
With an eye roll, Lyric sulked off to their tiny bathroom, and got into the small stand up shower. She hurried to get washed, pissed that she hardly had enough time for the water to even get warm, and rushed to comb the tangles out of her wet hair once she hopped out. A low groan left her when she saw the outfit laid out on her bed.
"Oh, Lyla, no," she whispered.
The plain white dress had seen better days, even with the adjustments Lyla had made, and Lyric found herself hating it. She would have preferred a black dress or something in purple, but the rules of their Mating Ritual clearly stated that all eligible females were to wear white—to symbolize their purity. The purity aspect made her snort to herself. Out of the whole Pack, she was maybe the only one of Mating age who hadn't lost her virginity to their Alpha-son, Liam. Liam had made it his life's mission to put as many notches in his belt as he could. Even with Lyric's oddity, he had made every pursuit possible.
She pulled the dress over her head, really tugging at the hem to make it cover her thighs, and slipped on a pair of simple white strap flats. One quick look at herself—and one more tug at the dress—and she was on her way to the Clearing. Lyric's nerves got more and more wild with every step towards her destination. Just as the flickering light from the bonfire and the sounds of chatter hit her senses, she scurried behind a tree so she could calm herself and regain control. Luckily, she managed to catch herself before she had actually started to change and it didn't take all too long to settle herself—and her wolf—down. After one last shaky breath, she deemed herself in full control, and pushed away from the tree trunk.
"Ah, there you are," a silky voice purred and she was shoved back against the tree.
"Leave me alone, Liam," she grumbled, trying to push by the Alpha-son.
"Hey now," he chuckled, gently shoving her back. "Are you going to treat the only male in this Pack who will give you the time of day so rudely?"
"Go to hell!" she snapped, pushing much harder this time in her attempt to get by.
"Lyric," he snarled in a strangely sweet tone, "stop it." This time he shoved her back with such force that the back of her head collided with the tree trunk and she cried out. "Why can't you see that I'm the only guy who will ever want you? I mean, why are you even bothering with the Ritual? You really think any respectable Alpha-son would pick a freak like you? I wouldn't. I would consider keeping you around as a . . . well, a side bitch," he smirked, running a hand down her side. His blue eyes wandered over her body, seeing through the dress, and it made her skin crawl.
His touch filled her with disgust and rage and her control slipped. It was so sudden that none of her usual warning signs were present. Lyric put one hand—tipped with the start of wolf-like nails—to his chest and pushed with all of her power. Like any werewolf, she had all the perks: heightened senses and some very impressive strength. The Alpha-son stumbled back, blue eyes going wide with shock and then anger, and she tried to get around him. He moved fast, grabbing her arm with enough force to make a whine escape her throat.
"You teasing little bitch," he growled, jerking her flush to his body. She could smell the blueberry wine on his breath and curled her lip. That explained the sudden boldness.
This time, Lyric didn't bother with a verbal response. She drove one of her knees into his groin and pulled her arm away as he let go to cup both hands to his crotch. To add insult to his injury, she used one wolf-nail-tipped hand and brought it across his face. She took a small amount of pleasure in seeing the lines of blood form on his cheek. Before he had any time to begin to recover, she hurried away, and dared just one glance back to be sure he wasn't after her. One of the strangers from the path had appeared beside Liam. They were neither offering a hand to help him or acting at all concerned. Whoever it was simply knelt down beside the blond—who was now collapsed to his knees—and seemed to be saying something to the young man. With the blood pounding in her ears, she couldn't hear what words were being exchanged, but from the look on Liam's face, she guessed that it was serious. Lyric turned her focus on herself and was pleased when she felt her wolf receding.
"You're late, again!" Lyla whispered when Lyric found her in the Clearing. "And you're filthy! What—how did you get back all over my Ritual dress?" Lyric felt a stab of guilt when she heard that. She'd forgotten that Lyla had once taken part in the Ritual and would have worn a white dress. And the first thing Lyric had thought after seeing it was that she hated it.
"I leaned against a tree to calm myself," she said, avoiding the woman's gaze. "I'm anxious and my control wanted to slip. I'm sorry."
"Sweetie," she whispered, brushing the bark from her back and hair. "Are you all right?" The unspoken question in her voice was 'Will you stay in control during this?'.
"Yeah."
"Are you ready?" Lyla asked, nodding at the roaring bonfire and the girls who stood in a line, all dressed in white. Behind each eligible female stood their mother and each mother held a simple blindfold.
"I guess," she sighed.
The two of them walked to the last place in the line; Lyla took her place behind Lyric. She could hear the immediate whispers and comments about her presence and she just kept her head and eyes down, trying to focus on the bonfire. Their Alpha made his way down the line, wishing each girl luck on his way, but came to a halt in front of Lyric.
"Is this wise?" he asked Lyla.
"Why wouldn't it be?" she replied. "It's not as if she is diseased. She is a werewolf. And unmated. Lyric deserves a change just like any other female here."
"Do you agree?" he asked, looking to Lyric.
"Yes," she whispered. She really wanted to say 'No', but she knew Lyla was too excited and hopeful.
"Well then," he said. "Best of luck, Lyric."
She quietly thanked him, blushing when she heard some barely whispered sneers. One of the Elders came forward, three handmade flower crowns in his hand, and everyone fell silent.
