Chapter 1: Standing In
Coral shivered slightly as her uncle tightened his grip on her arm and pushed her forward to stand at the center of the Royal Werewolf Court. She could feel the steely-eyed gaze of the court’s high leadership piercing her, but she dared not look up. There was no way she was going to let them see how frightened and alone she felt.
She was there as a substitute for her sister Darlene, who had escaped the grip of their uncle before landing in the very position Coral now found herself in. Even when she had helped her sister to get away, Coral never expected that she would be the one selected as the mate for the alpha. It was Darlene whom her royal family had offered to the courts as substitute mate for the newly widowed Patrick, the alpha leader of North America’s largest werewolf race. Coral had never actually laid her eyes on him before, but she had heard plenty about him. He was said to be one of the strongest leaders ever known, a fierce warrior who ascended to his position as alpha at a very young age. But that wasn’t all Coral had heard about him.
She also was aware of what the women werewolves said about Patrick—that when taking werewolf form, he had legs as strong as tree trunks, but moved with the agility of an antelope and quickness of a cheetah. He was extremely handsome in either form and it is said that his beastly scent can make females want him instantly. Coral was not sure how much of that was true, but as she stole a sideways glimpse in Patrick’s direction, she had to admit, the mere sight of him stirred something deep within her.
Patrick stood casually on the sidelines, his father standing just to his side. For his part, he seemed quite disconnected from all that was going on around him. His face showed pure indifference. Not once had he even looked Coral’s way. Had he bothered, he would have seen a beautiful, young she-werewolf with stunning green eyes, naturally full lips, and a thick mane of long, dark brown hair that seemed to have golden strands that glimmered when the light hit them just right, almost like glimmers of fire.
Coral visibly jumped, startled from her thoughts by the thunderous voice of her uncle, Alastor, formally presenting her to the court, stating, “Your honors, I present to you my niece Coral, a worthy young maiden werewolf of noble blood. She is here in place of her sister, who as you know, is now a fugitive, a runaway, from the authority of the most honored Royal Court. Our royal pack presents the beautiful and enchanting Coral as a gift to the noblest alpha leader of our race, as a token of our gratitude for the many gifts and favors bestowed upon our pack.”
Coral couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him, causing her uncle to grasp her arm even tighter and give it a shake, as though to “keep her in line.” She knew her reaction was not considered appropriate behavior. But Alastor claiming that Coral was being handed over as some sort of token of appreciation was ridiculous. He is lucky she did not laugh aloud.
~~~
Everyone, from her uncle to the alpha to the leaders of the court, knew exactly why Alastor had pounced on the opportunity to hand over his niece—first Darlene, and now Coral—to Patrick: he hoped it would bring him power, prestige, and wealth. That is all. While of noble blood, Alastor had never quite made a place for himself among the uppermost echelon of their race. Coral had heard bits and pieces of his past. She knew it involved his love for a beautiful she-werewolf of another pack when he was young. He had been rejected by her father as being unworthy. She didn’t know more than that nor did she care.
All that mattered was that she was here, standing before the court and standing before her soon-to-be mate. She felt like a lamb led to auction, all eyes upon her, seemingly in expectation. But the expectation of what? Is she expected to look humble? Grateful? Happy? Or, was it scorn she saw in their eyes? Was she to be the target of their anger over her sister’s sudden and unexpected revolt?
Perhaps they were waiting for her true noble heritage to make itself physically apparent in some way. Sometimes, she forgot she was of royal blood. She and her sister had lived under their uncle’s rule since they were young, following the untimely death of their parents. But far from providing a loving home to two young children who felt lost and overcome with grief, Alastor offered nothing but cold indifference. It was a stark contrast to the loving home they had known with their parents. Alastor made it clear that he had only taken them in to gain the riches of their parents. He stripped them of their property rights and stole their wealth, all in the name of compensation for taking them in.
But even that was not enough and Alastor seemed constantly in pursuit of ways to gain stature and wealth beyond what he already accumulated, as though trying to fill a gaping void that he could never satisfy. He spent nearly every waking hour in greedy pursuit of money and power, and Coral had long ago lost count of his many schemes and activities to accumulate more riches, more property, and more status. He was such a dark contrast to Coral’s dear, dead father, a kind and compassionate he-werewolf who loved his daughters unconditionally.
The thought of her parents caused tears to well up in Coral’s eyes. Realizing he had started to loosen his grip, Alastor tightened his clutch on Coral’s arm once again, as though he was worried if he loosened his hold, she would vanish, like her sister. His fingertips began to dig into Coral’s flesh, adding to her discomfort.
Coral appears staunch in her resolve not to let them see a single tear cascade down her perfectly curved cheek—not the court, not her uncle, and certainly not Patrick nor his father. She had so many emotions churning within, for a moment she thought she may be sick or pass out. But she had always been able to draw upon an inner strength from deep within whenever she felt at her most vulnerable and weakest.
It was with that strength that she was determined not to show any outward weakness. She would concentrate on the one bright spot in all of this shameful mess—she was about to be out of her uncle’s house and away from her cruel family. She had often vowed to herself that she would seize any opportunity to be out from under her uncle’s fist once she came of age. This was her chance. While Coral knew little of what might lie ahead, there were few scenarios she could imagine that would be worse than the life she had known under her uncle’s roof.
Coral is suddenly aware that someone is speaking. It is the head of the Royal Elders and he is acknowledging her uncle, much to Alastor’s delight. The senior elder is now formally asking the court to vote on accepting Coral as the substitute mate for Patrick. After some mumbling and a voting process that was far more formal than necessary, their recommendation is unanimously approved. It is now up to Patrick to confirm that he accepts the court’s decision so that Coral can be his mate. Many among the Royal Elders felt this was merely a formality once their decision was rendered. No one dared go against the Royal Elders.
But instead of voicing his affirmation, Patrick remains silent. There is some awkward murmuring among the elders as the seconds—and then, minutes—tick by.
~~~
Ares stood quietly, and just as expressionless as his son, throughout Alastor’s haughty presentation and the Royal Elder’s decision. But he now wondered at his son’s continued silence.
He had been willing to allow the court to choose his son’s new mate without voicing his protest, at least at the start. But as complications arose, he became much less patient with the entire process. Still, he knew there would be consequences if he forced his son to blatantly disregard the court’s decision. For one, his son is the alpha, their rightful leader. The rules of the traditional father-son relationship no longer applied, and they both knew it. His son was likely to respond with fury if he attempted to interfere, especially in such a visible, public way.
The other issue, of course, was that the Royal Elder’s decision was, for all practical purposes, the law of the land. It was the Royal Court that operated at the center of their werewolf universe, determining right from wrong, doling out punishment, and controlling a great deal of the wealth of the packs in the process. If Ares were to ignore the decision of the court, there could be any number of repercussions, ranging from devastating embargoes to imprisonment.
There would be far fewer ramifications if the decision to reject this substitute mate came directly as a result of his son’s own free will if only that will could be manipulated, he mused. Ares gazed at his son and marveled at Patrick’s ability to show no emotion. It was likely this particular trait, honed to perfection, that contributed greatly to his son’s success as a leader. Neither his enemies nor his men knew what he was thinking, which often turned out to be of great advantage.
But since the death of his mate Elsie, Patrick’s ability to appear void of all emotion had gone beyond anything his father—or anyone else—could have imagined. Ares was surprised he didn’t feel more sympathy toward his son’s situation, but the feeling passed quickly. Patrick had realized his destiny from a very young age and Ares saw his role not as a loving father, but as trainer and mentor. From Ares’ viewpoint, the harder he was on Patrick, the greater Patrick’s success and stature as alpha.
Patrick didn’t quite see it that way, however. He knew he was born with the fire in his blood to be the type of alpha that legends are made of, and more importantly, the kind of alpha he was born to be and not some vision that his father or anyone else might hold. To Patrick, his father seemed pitiful in his attempts to take credit for Patrick’s strength, wisdom, and success. Patrick was not particularly boastful; he simply saw this as fact.
As Patrick remains motionless, the silence is suddenly shattered, not by Patrick but by Ares. Despite wondering why his father was suddenly speaking at a time when only Patrick should be responding, Patrick retains his indifferent expression and still does not turn to glance at this young woman who would be his new mate.
“It is my son’s decision to accept this substitute mate…or to refuse her,” Ares proclaimed. “My honorable son, what do you say?”
As all eyes turn to the stoic Patrick, Coral begins to hear a few titters from the crowd that has formed as well as some of the Royal elders themselves. At first, she feels the blood rise and her cheeks grow hot, but Coral is as adept at controlling her emotions when desired as Patrick is at hiding his.
Some in the crowd then began to jeer and shout out things like, “She is a substitute to a substitute! She is not worthy!” Others seemed more sympathetic toward the beautiful young woman before them. Exclamations of, “Such a beauty!” and “She is tantalizing, the perfect mate!” began to rise from among some of the more sympathetic in the crowd. Coral showed no reaction. She was not about to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing their words affect her.
