Chapter 1 ONE

The allure of the night of mating has always captivated me, instilling a sense of hope and endless possibilities within the pack. It goes beyond simply bringing the pack together or offering a break from the chaos of city life. Mating nights hold the power to ignite a flicker of optimism, urging us to envision a future that we believe we can attain.

The air is charged with anticipation as the pack prepares for this significant event.

My closest friend, Molly, is visibly flustered by the upcoming festivities.

"I just can't seem to get my braid right," she grumbles, her frustration evident.

Sensing her unease, I position myself behind her, gently taking hold of her hair.

"Your braid looks great," I assure her, although I begin to comb through it with my fingers, offering a soothing touch.

Deep down, I understand that her anxiety stems from more than just her appearance. Tonight holds immense significance for her.

"You'll find a wonderful match, I'm sure," I reassure her, attempting to ease her worries.

"The odds are in your favor this year. There are eleven eligible men and only five women."

Molly nods, finding solace in the numbers.

"At least I won't be left without a partner," she remarks, acknowledging the favorable gender ratio within our pack.

However, I can't help but voice my concerns.

"We shouldn't settle for that," I respond.

"We need more women. The fact that there are so few of us..." I trail off, aware that this is not the time to dwell on the challenges we face as a pack.

Tonight is meant for celebration, a night to revel in the possibilities that lie ahead.

Molly's voice trembles with uncertainty as she asks, "Do you think we'll be able to have healthy pregnancies?"

She is plagued by doubts about our reproductive capabilities.

"The alpha will pair us with someone who offers the best chance of a successful pregnancy," I explain, drawing from the knowledge instilled in us since childhood.

While it is a comforting thought, it also signifies the gravity of the situation.

"I have this fantasy that I'll be the one to triumph," Molly admits, her voice filled with longing.

"To carry a baby to term."

I empathize with her deeply.

It is a rare achievement in our world, particularly under the influence of the Inverse Moon.

Curiosity gleams in Molly's eyes as she inquires, "Who are you hoping to be paired with?"

I deflect the question, feeling as though it would be tempting fate to reveal my desires.

However, Molly sees right through me, a knowing smile gracing her lips.

"You want Vermon, don't you?" she states, her words sending a surge of warmth coursing through my veins.

Of course, I long for his companionship.

Vermon is not only the most attractive man within our crew but in the entire pack, in my opinion.

I have harbored a crush on him for years, and now that I have reached the age of mating, I am determined to be with him, regardless of whether he becomes my alpha mate.

In a world where women are encouraged to seize every opportunity to conceive, there is something undeniably special about having an alpha mate.

Our bond would be solidified by our pack's alpha, and we would spend a significant portion of each month together, during the time when conception is most likely.

We would immerse ourselves in the pursuit of creating life, spending a week in intimate communion.

The thought of spending a week in bed with Vermon every month is akin to paradise.

The intensity of our connection might render other potential partners irrelevant.

"Everyone desires Vermon," I respond to Molly, skillfully evading her question.

"He is the strongest member of the pack and the most likely to father a successful pregnancy.

If anyone from our crew were to carry a baby to term, it would undoubtedly be his mate."

Molly chuckles at the old saying, and I join in, recognizing that it is one of those phrases handed down by our pack's elders, even if it lacks true significance for us.

I possess a vague understanding of the concept of money from books, but it became obsolete before I could comprehend its full implications.

"You look stunning," I assure Molly, seeking to quell her nerves.

She tentatively pats her hair, seeking reassurance.

"Are you sure?" she inquires.

I adopt a soothing tone as I respond, "Listen, your mate has already been chosen.

Your appearance won't alter the outcome.

I understand your desire to look your best, just as I do.

However, trust me when I say that it won't change anything.

So, there's no need to stress about it."

"But it could make a difference," Molly insists, her voice tinged with lingering doubts.

"He could reject me."

I burst intoThe night of mating has always held a captivating allure for me, filling the pack with hope and endless possibilities. It goes beyond being a mere gathering or a break from the chaos of city life. Mating nights have the power to ignite a spark of optimism, inspiring us to dream of a future we believe we can achieve.

As the pack prepares for this momentous occasion, there is a palpable sense of anticipation in the air. My closest friend, Molly, is visibly flustered by the upcoming festivities. She grumbles about not being able to get her braid right, her frustration evident. Sensing her unease, I position myself behind her and gently take hold of her hair. Though her braid already looks great, I run my fingers through it to offer a soothing touch. Deep down, I know that her anxiety stems from more than just her appearance. Tonight holds significant meaning for her.

"You'll find a wonderful match, I'm sure," I reassure her, attempting to ease her worries. "The odds are in your favor this year. There are eleven eligible men and only five women." Molly nods, finding solace in the numbers. "At least I won't be left without a partner," she remarks, acknowledging the favorable gender ratio within our pack.

However, I can't help but voice my concerns. "We shouldn't settle for that," I respond. "We need more women. The fact that there are so few of us..." I trail off, aware that this is not the time to dwell on the challenges we face as a pack. Tonight is meant for celebration, a night to revel in the possibilities that lie ahead.

Molly's voice trembles with uncertainty as she asks, "Do you think we'll be able to have healthy pregnancies?" Her doubts about our reproductive capabilities weigh heavily on her mind. "The alpha will pair us with someone who offers the best chance of a successful pregnancy," I explain, drawing from the knowledge instilled in us since childhood. While it is a comforting thought, it also highlights the gravity of the situation.

"I have this fantasy that I'll be the one to triumph," Molly admits, her voice filled with longing. "To carry a baby to term." I empathize with her deeply. It is a rare accomplishment in our world, especially under the influence of the Inverse Moon.

Curiosity gleams in Molly's eyes as she inquires, "Who are you hoping to be paired with?" I deflect the question, feeling as though it would be tempting fate to reveal my desires. However, Molly sees right through me, a knowing smile gracing her lips. "You want Vermon, don't you?" she states, her words sending a surge of warmth coursing through my veins. Of course, I long for his companionship. Vermon is not only the most attractive man within our crew, but in the entire pack, in my opinion. I have harbored a crush on him for years, and now that I have reached the age of mating, I am determined to be with him, regardless of whether he becomes my alpha mate.

In a world where women are encouraged to seize every opportunity to conceive, there is something undeniably special about having an alpha mate. Our bond would be solidified by our pack's alpha, and we would spend a significant portion of each month together, during the time when conception is most likely. We would immerse ourselves in the pursuit of creating life, spending a week in intimate communion. The thought of spending a week in bed with Vermon every month is akin to paradise. The intensity of our connection might render other potential partners irrelevant.

"Everyone desires Vermon," I respond to Molly, skillfully evading her question. "He is the strongest member of the pack and the most likely to father a successful pregnancy. If anyone from our crew were to carry a baby to term, it would undoubtedly be his mate." Molly chuckles at the old saying, and I join in, recognizing that it is one of those phrases handed down by our pack's elders, even if it lacks true significance for us.

"You look stunning," I assure Molly, seeking to quell her nerves. She tentatively pats her hair, seeking reassurance. "Are you sure?" she inquires. I adopt a soothing tone as I respond, "Listen, your mate has already been chosen. Your appearance won't alter the outcome. I understand your desire to look your best, just as I do. However, trust me when I say that it won't change anything. So, there's no need to stress about it."

"But it could make a difference," Molly insists, her voice tinged with lingering doubts. "He could reject me." I burst into a reassuring smile.