Beneath the Skin (3 page)

There were always a few who never bonded, but there was usually something wrong with them. After they turned twenty-six they lost their privileges and kept to the fringes of their birth packs where they were looked after but never treated as equals. Some people turned their backs on the Great Pack and lived in the world of the Others. They denied their wolves and who they really were. Most of the time these were people who’d lost their bond mate and didn’t want another. Some of them, like me, had been exiled for some transgression or crime they’d committed. Those exiled had to exist on their own for two years before they could even attempt to find a new pack. When they did return, everything was forgiven and the slate was wiped clean.

In theory. In practice, some people kept score and judged. I supposed that was only natural, but I was determined to keep my past exile a secret at this Great Gathering if I could help it. I knew I’d have to tell some people, but the whole damn Pack didn’t need to know.

A set of stone stairs led up to the massive front doors of the chateau. They were thrown open and light spilled out into the courtyard from a large reception hall. Skirted tables were set up along the walls manned by mostly women with laptops who searched for names in the database. When they found the right one, they clicked a few keys and a nametag spat out of a printer next to them.

The nametag contained the person’s name and their pack, as well as their country of origin.

It stuck with adhesive to clothing, for which I was grateful. No pins to ruin my new expensive French gown.

When I pasted my nametag on my chest, I felt exposed because all it said was
Constance
Newcastle--Boston, Massachusetts, USA
.

Of course my jewelry also proclaimed me as unbonded and unaffiliated with a pack.

To indicate mated status, everyone wore pendants with different colored stones in them.

Birthstones--one stone for the unbonded, two for a duo, three for a triad.

My pendant was a simple peridot suspended by a silver chain.

Pack membership jewelry differed. Bracelets, rings, necklaces: they were distinctive and designed by the pack. It wasn’t hard to spot a piece of pack jewelry, but it wasn’t as specific as a mating status pendant.

It was hot in the chateau with the press of bodies, and I took off my coat somewhat awkwardly, trying to balance it and my purse and not bash anyone in the face with a flailing arm.

Distinctive laughter rang out and I spun on my heel. I knew that laugh. It was Callie, from my old pack. Peter and Vaughn flanked her protectively. Peter pretended to cop a feel as he stuck Callie’s nametag on her dress. He was always the jokester, Peter.

I smiled to see them and warmth stole through my body. I suddenly felt at home. I had been alone for two years, and seeing them now made those years disappear somehow.

“Callie!” I called and the three of them looked at me. All the laughter and fun died out of their faces. Callie took Vaughn’s hand and tugged him away. Peter followed, his gaze the last to leave mine. They turned their backs on me, shunning me, and disappeared into the crowd Someone near me laughed. I don’t suppose they laughed at me. No one paid particular attention to me, but that laugh cut through me like a sword, sliced me open, exposed all my weaknesses and vulnerabilities.

Ashamed, I pushed against the tide of the crowd and forced my way back onto the stone steps only to see the last of the buses pulling away. The first departure was not until midnight.

By my watch, it was barely seven o’clock. For a moment, I observed people as they flowed up the staircase and inside the chateau. They all seemed to arrive in pairs or groups. Search as I would, I couldn’t find anybody on their own. I imagined stories for them as they passed by without even seeing me. All the stories were happy because everyone smiled. It was a Great Gathering. Alliances would be forged, friendships renewed, memories made.

Of course I couldn’t achieve any of those things if I stood all night long on the front steps and waited for the damn bus to come back.

Back inside I let the crowd direct me to a winding staircase that I followed up a level.

The entire second floor of this particular wing of the chateau was a ballroom. An intricate floor made of blocks and strips of wood had been inlaid with painstaking precision by hand. Eight massive crystal chandeliers hung suspended like glittering ice from the ceiling that was painted with a series of frescos of men, women and wolves, all intertwined and frolicking together. Some of the people looked half wolf, some of the wolves half human.

I could have looked at the ceiling for hours, but I couldn’t stand there with my head tilted back like a dolt, gaping, so I found a seat at a large round table in the corner of the room, a table that was not prominent and reserved, as were several of them--the ones near the front.

A huge head table had been placed just before a series of arching floor-to-ceiling

windows--for the Council and their bond mates.

The Great Council comprised the crème de la crème of the Great Pack. Members of the Council were all past Alphas of their packs. Theirs were influential ones.

Councilors chose Advisors. Advisors were the record-keepers of the Great Pack, the

guardians of our knowledge, our numbers, our secrets and our past. Many Councilors were once Advisors.

In conjunction with the Regional Councils, the Great Council oversaw disputes and

investigated accidents and murders. They sent Advisors in first to gather the facts before the Councilors made a ruling.

The seats on the Council fluctuated with our population. Councilors on the Great Council generally had two or three Advisors--whereas Councilors on the Regionals normally only had one.

We were taught to both respect and fear the Councils, especially the Great. Most of us were mainly in awe of it.

The head table was set for at least fifty tonight, which meant about twenty-five

Councilors were in attendance. A good turn-out, but then, this was a Great Gathering.

Beyond the windows was a decorative pond with several splashing fountains lit up in pink, green, blue, purple and gold.

Tablecloths of dark gold adorned each table. Chairs were wrapped in gold and plum

fabric tied back with broad ribbons. Dark purple goblets and matching napkins folded into intricate shapes marked each place setting.

It was gorgeous and very French.

I draped my coat over the back of one of the gold chairs and sat so I faced the windows and fountains, my back to most of the room.

I had this ridiculous urge to start crying, because everybody in the room had somebody else to be with and I didn’t. Who else my age didn’t have a pack or a bond mate? What if I were the only one? I was supposed to be there to find a bond mate and new pack, but what if there were no one who wanted me? I’d been lonely on my own, but this gnawing, horrible feeling of inferiority and worthlessness was worse than the loneliest night I’d spent in Boston. Which was stupid, because I’d been waiting so long for this chance. Sure, at first after Grey and Elena died and Riverglow had turned against me, I’d sworn I’d never belong to another pack. But that was at first when my grief and betrayal both burned so hot and high I didn’t have time to be wistful.

Lately, wistful was pretty much all I ever felt. I wanted to belong again.

I had nothing to be ashamed of. My pack may have blamed me for the deaths of Grey and Elena, but the Councils had not.

They’d sent one of the American Great Councilors to our pack in Connecticut, and after he had heard all the evidence and my story of what had happened, he and the Regional Council cleared me of all culpability. My pack still severed ties with me. I could have been taken into Jonathan and Nora’s duo and we could have made a triad, but they had not even considered the idea.

Tonight the wistfulness was accompanied by guilt. Was I really here to replace Grey and Elena? Just so I wouldn’t be alone? But I wouldn’t ever forget them. How could I? Was it a crime to move on? Is that why I felt so guilty?

Instead of dwelling on my guilt, I focused on the sights and scents around me.

Music was piped into the room through strategically placed speakers. At the moment, it was American pop, but later in the evening it would change to something fast and danceable.

The tables were arranged so a huge space for dancing remained. At the moment, tables piled with cheese, fruit and sliced meat, as well as savory things wrapped in pastry and baked until light golden brown, filled this space. The food smelled divine and I realized I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

I fixed myself a heaping plate of almost everything and, with a crystal glass of

champagne I’d snatched from a white-coated waiter bearing a full tray, I retreated to my table.

It was one with seating enough for ten. During my absence, a duo with twin teenage boys had taken seats near mine. The woman was dark-haired and, although she looked to be around twenty-five or thirty, she was probably closer to fifty. Her bond mate was about the same age with untidy brown hair and a look of being perpetually dismayed by the things his offspring chose to do and say.

The twins looked no older than sixteen. Tall and gangly with the same untidy brown hair as their father but with their mother’s cool, gray eyes, they openly ogled me as I sat. Well, I couldn’t blame them. My cleavage was very much on display.

One of them nudged the other hard with his elbow, so his brother dipped his fingers in his glass and flicked the water at his twin who then retaliated.

Their mother removed the plate of food between them adroitly and their father looked as if he wanted to pretend he didn’t know them.

“Forgive their rambunctiousness, please,” he said. His accent was Australian, although I’d picked that up from his nametag. His name was Evan. His bond mate was Deb and his sons were Max and Matthew. They were from a pack called Moonglen. I’d never heard of it.

The parents peered blatantly at my pendant. Evan’s eyes widened in surprise, while

Deb’s mouth tightened.

“I think the singles tables are over there.” She pointed imperiously toward the other side of the room where a group of early twenty-somethings laughed.

I was only thirty-two, but I felt a lifetime older than them. I had experience as a contributing pack member, as a bond mate in both a duo and a triad. If they were still single, chances are they’d never been outside their own packs save for perhaps a few Gatherings, most likely Regionals.

They knew nothing compared to me.

But I picked up my glass and plate then had to set them down again to get my coat and purse. In the end I abandoned the champagne and walked away.

I heard Evan remonstrating Deb and she gave a sharp reply that shut him up. As I walked away, I could feel the twins’ gazes as they ogled my ass as I walked.

The twenty-somethings fell silent at my approach, and two of the men eyed me

appreciatively.

The prettiest woman at the table scrutinized my name tag. When she saw I didn’t have a pack she knew I had to be at least twenty-six years old. At twenty-six, unbonded people lost all their birth pack rights.

“You’re kind of old for us.” She tossed her glossy blond hair and the two men who sized me up were suddenly captivated by her. The name tag on her low-cut blue halter dress read
Tora
Nilsson, Frostpaw, Lund, Sweden
. She pointed vaguely in the direction of yet another table then turned her back as if I did not even exist.

Funny how I hadn’t wanted to sit with them, because I thought they were too young and inexperienced, yet rejection made my cheeks sting. For a bitter moment, I wished I’d stayed in Boston, screw this, but then my better sense reasserted itself. Of course this wasn’t going to be easy. Nothing ever was.

I sat at my third table and decided I wasn’t going to move again. To hell with anyone who said anything. My food wouldn’t stay warm forever and I was hungry.

The people at this table didn’t say anything when I settled. They hadn’t said much of anything before I took my seat. There were three woman and two men. They all reeked of frustration and anger. Great. I had blundered into a table full of fighting pack mates. I kept my gaze on my plate and ate everything. I was starving.

“Constance, my dear, how wonderful to see you!” A man’s voice broke into my reverie. I looked up, hoping I didn’t have crumbs stuck to my lipstick, and almost died.

Jason Allerton stood beside the table. Councilor Jason Allerton. Handsome, rich, polished and smooth--the man from the Great Council who had cleared me after the accident.

“Why don’t you come have a drink with me?” Councilor Allerton hovered his hand at the small of my back, not quite touching me, and with the power of his voice and presence, led me to the bar in the back of the room.

“You certainly can’t sit there,” he told me as if he cared one way or the other. “There’s a table up front where I’d like you to sit. I want you to meet someone.”

I was instantly suspicious but also intrigued.

He snapped his fingers at the bartender who leaped over to us. Everyone responded to Allerton’s powerful aura, even the Others.

Some of the service people were Pack, some were Others. Of course on the night of the Great Hunt, there would be no Others present--only Pack. Tonight, however, was simply the meet and greet, and the Others working here thought we were members of an esoteric club. They didn’t appear to be interested in the particulars. They weren’t paid to be.

The bartender made us gin and tonics and the Councilor left him a two-euro coin before he led me toward the head table.

Several Councilors and their bond mates were already seated there, eating and talking among themselves.

Allerton didn’t bring me to the head table, rather to one of the seven tables in front of it.

All ten seats were already occupied, but at a look from Allerton, one of the men got up with his plate and glass, and melted into the crowd.

Allerton gestured for me to take his place, gallantly pulling out my chair.

“Everyone, this is Constance Newcastle from Boston, Massachusetts,” he introduced me.