Elowen Skye Thorne POV

“Not slutty enough,” Lyssira said in my head, her voice full of snark and mischief. “Try that one, the red one that screams breed me under the stars.”

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt and threw my phone down on the seat. I had been browsing dresses for my coming of age party, and Lyssi and I could NOT agree on what to go with.

“You are so dramatic.”

“And you are so boring,” she shot back, tail swishing smugly in the back of my mind. “You turn eighteen in three days, El. The Moon Goddess could drop our mate right in front of us, and you wanna wear a beige sweater? BEIGE?”

Out loud, I huffed, flipping down the visor in the passenger seat of Taya’s car to glare at my reflection. “It’s not beige. It’s…cream.”

From the driver’s seat, Taya Quinn cackled. “Girl, please. Lyssira’s right. We’re going for hot, not homeschool librarian. We need mated up energy, serve that snack platter, bitch!”

She swerved into the cracked lot of Silver Ridge, our pack’s only real town center, hidden deep in the forest like a secret postcard from a forgotten world. If humans ever stumbled into this place, their minds would just… skip over it. Magic like that only costs blood, a blessing, and a whole lot of wolf politics.

Taya’s purple Volkswagen bug screeched into a crooked parking space in front of Lune & Thread, the boutique run by a retired beta named Marnie Vale. She was older, sharp-tongued, and used moon magic to make clothes that fit you like a damn dream. If anyone could make me look good enough to ignore my anxiety about this whole mate business, it was her.

Taya threw the car in park and grinned, snapping a selfie on her cracked phone. “Say howl, bitches!”

“Wait, my hair!”

Snap.

Too late. She posted it to WolfNet with the caption:

💋 “Bout to bless this town with our hotness. If you see us? No you didn’t.” 💄💅

Tagged: @ElowenSkye

“Ugh,” I muttered, grabbing my bag as we hopped out.

I glanced at the reflection in the boutique’s glass window.

Tall. Pale as moonlight. Hair long and deep brown, nearly black, glossy and straight, currently braided to keep it from getting tangled in the wind. My eyes were my curse and my favorite feature, bright blue, like stormy skies and secrets. I guess I loved my curves too. I hid them mostly, so no one knew how curvy I was.

Taya, on the other hand, was a whole walking firecracker. 5’3, thicker than a snickers, wild red curls, wearing ripped black leggings, combat boots covered in glitter, and a cropped hoodie that said Bite Me Harder. She was chaos incarnate. My chaos.

We stepped inside, and instantly the air smelled like sage, thread, and magic. Marnie, in a gorgeous floor length navy dress and silver wolf pendant belt, raised an eyebrow as we entered. Her white hair was tied into a loose braid, and her eyes were sharp enough to make grown alphas flinch.

“Elowen Thorne. About damn time you came to me. I was about to make a public post calling you a fashion disgrace.”

Taya snorted. “Don’t tempt her. She’s already been fighting her wolf about how boring she dresses.”

“Excuse me?” I said, offended. “I have taste!”

“You have trauma,” Lyssira corrected in my head. “There’s a difference.”

I ignored her and turned toward the racks of enchanted dresses, fingers trailing the soft fabric that shimmered faintly under the boutique’s lantern light. The magic hummed beneath my skin, subtle and familiar. My wolf stirred, pleased.

Marnie waved her hand and a dozen dresses floated into the air. “Pick three. Try them on. If none of them make you feel like the sexiest moon blessed bitch in the room, we start over.”

We emerged an hour later, exhausted and with three bags, two matching necklaces, and one very smug wolf in my head.

“She’s finally getting it,” Lyssira purred. “We’re a catch. We need to look like one.”

Taya slung her arm around my shoulder as we walked to the diner next door. “I’m starving. If I don’t get a milkshake in my mouth right now, I’m going to eat someone’s child.”

I snorted, pushing open the door to The Hollow Spot, our local teen hangout. Booths, fairy lights, and enchanted menus that floated a few inches off the table. The smell of grease and fries hit me like a hug.

But then I saw them.

Him.

Daxon Stormclaw and his two douchebag besties..his future beta, Rylan, and future gamma, Jace..already seated near the back.

They looked up. Daxon’s storm grey eyes met mine like he’d smelled something foul.

The smirk that followed made my wolf bristle.

He was tall, broad, every inch of him carved from stone and ego, dark hair messy like he styled it by punching a wall. Dressed in a black shirt and jeans, his pack crest tattoo peeked out from under his collarbone.

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify