𝐑𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 & 𝐒𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐝: 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍

Chapter 2: Follow the scent

Stone Ravencroft: Age 16|

It had been a warm July night, and I had been preparing for a once-a-year event. Where our Coven allowed the three most prominent packs of werewolves to bring forth their most promising Alpha and Beta wolves to learn about witches. I hosted it every year, hoping my mother's family would show up.

They never did.

But that particular year was special.

The pack of Blue Blooded werewolves my mother reigned from - her family - was desperate to find their next Alpha's mate. So when I'd called with an offer, they'd agreed to finally attend.

I was thrilled.

My mother should have been thrilled, too.

I wiped my brow on the sleeve of my coat and admired my court's décor. It was pristine — with gleaming marble surfaces, gold accents everywhere, and live orchestra music in the background. A jacuzzi large enough to accommodate a bus full of horny witches' bodies on the balcony. Sunlight streamed in through the artificially frosted windows, making everything sparkle. The blue and red of the roses stood out vibrant and alive with an aesthetic for hopeless romance and cautionary danger.

Pleased with my eye of good taste, I smiled at the possibility of the ambience's potential to relax our estranged first-time guests towards us. At the same time as me smiling, raucous laughter echoed from the other side of the door. I pushed it open and stepped into the guest suite's living area. Which I'd spent the morning delegating its cleaning to a shine amongst the help.

My mother, the Aries Coven's Matron, and her best friend lounged on the snow-white sofas. I'd had delivered for the night's occasion. The two of them were crowding over a series of earmarked paperwork, two lit laptops, and one empty coffee mug.

"What are you doing?" I snapped my gloved fingers together to get their attention. "With all due respect, you can't be doing this. We've got a whole list of positions to take on before they arrive and..." I swiped my iPhone out to check for time and yep, "We are out of time and they'll be the first guests to arrive in..." I looked at the time again. "... an hour."

My mother turned her head to the side and shot me an answer. "Cold hospitality is what we're aiming for, my Nevanji."

Nevanji, a werewolf term of endearment, was a nickname traditionally passed on to the firstborn male of a family. I was my parents' firstborn male and only child, so the nickname usually made me feel loved on and shut me up, but not that time. Even though I felt all warm from her saying it, I took steps forward and pled. "I don't get it. We've wanted this for years, mom and now they're finally coming. So why does it seem like you're sabotaging this?"

"Stone," Mrs Baudouin drawled, in her bold but sweet accent. "You are sixteen now. Act like it and stop asking questions to which you already know the answers to, sweetheart."

"Mom." I tried again.

My mother placed her feet on the glass coffee table. Thin heels, tall and red like fresh blood. "Why should we tire ourselves just because they've finally taken our invite after close to two decades?"

"Why?" I took strides towards them, excited on her behalf but not understanding why she wasn't. "What about that's your family? Even more reason for you to help me make this Gala something they'll always want to attend."

"They lie to their own kind about our existence." Mom said, taking up the mug for its dried leaves at the bottom. "They can't be trusted, my Nevanji, it's a get them before they get us sort of reading."

"Whose fortune are you looking into?" I asked. "Marcus or your sister?"

Mrs Baudouin guffawed, in that sweet mean girl fashion of hers. "Why don't you leave this for the adults, Stone? Tonight we need you healthier than you've been the past months, so go back on bedrest and delegate the rest of your tasks until the guests arrive."