Beaufort Creek Shifters (10 book series)
The Wolf’s Auctioned Mate Chapter 1

Wendell

Pen to paper was largely what I knew in the moment. Other than the cabin around me. Other than the fading twilight winking through the bottom half of the window, the soft hum of the fan rotating above, and the thrum of crickets chirping outside. Cicadas screamed somewhere in the distance. Yes, this was precisely what I knew in the moment, and nothing was more satisfying than experiencing it.

Elegant wolf figurines twisted toward the ceiling-porcelain, I presumed-to my right with children's artwork taped to the wall behind it. Jars on the shelf nearby hosted an assortment of items like pinecones, herbs, and stones. The kitchenette boasted a modest woodstove along with enough space to harbor a few shifters.

Like me, the two shifters at the table were hard at work with pen to paper. Silence stretched on in its infinite wonder, tracked only by the ticking of the clock in the background, an analog addition requested by Troy who preferred such things. Mighty fine things that reminded me of the country-of our previous lives-were preferable to me as well. Quite a number of such things resided between our homes.

Troy hummed in his contemplative state.

Blake regarded him with a curious glance, pausing to set his pen aside. "Thoughts?"

"An auction."

My head snapped to my Bravecrest alpha. "Pardon?"

"An auction," Troy repeated. "Mate pairings come naturally, yes?"

"That's my understanding," Blake admitted. "Every pair I've chosen had developed long before the announcement."

The urge to laugh was strong, but the urge to please my alphas was stronger.

Thankfully, my reasonable and humbler side won out over the desire to question my leaders. For they knew the right ways of doing things. Who was I to question them? My task here was merely to take notes and document the entire exchange on neutral land. That was my entire point of existence today. And only that. I scribbled furiously into my notebook.

Troy traced the page in front of him lightly. "Can you describe the exchanges that naturally unfold?"

Part two of being thankful was recognizing that my alpha and I thought much the same things when it came to our curiosities.

Blake sat back, the chair legs creaking to accommodate his shift in weight. His hard features grew stony and pensive. Hardly a discernable expression broke through his rumination. Such a skill belonged to alphas for they were the ones who needed to keep their reactions under wraps as to not disturb the natural order of things unless it was absolutely necessary.

These were cues I had adopted from my alpha. As his assistant, I learned from the best, and acted much like a chameleon in nearly every environment in which I moved. Most of the time, I remained quiet, observing the vibrations beneath the general noise to absorb what I needed. Each moment that passed spoke of every moment before and could have very well predicted the next with the right training.

The eyes of the Beaufort Creek alpha sparked with consciousness when he returned from his brief meditation. "The mates I've paired reported that their attraction began prior to the pairing. They stated that, in some cases, they longed for the other person in ways they couldn't described until after they had officially mated."

"Interesting," Troy commented as he lifted his pen again. "What constitutes official mating for them?"

"I would say the bite."

Witnessing my alpha appear bashful was odd. He noted something on the page. "Anything else?"

"What about your pairing?"

Troy's eyebrows rose distinctly, and a rouge had crept into his cheeks. His bashfulness seemed to double. "A remarkable and confusing desire to bite her neck."

"You felt that too?"

If my eyes could roll across the floor, they would have done so. These men were in the throes of passion, of love tamed and framed by public statements. While my alpha had appeared much happier than any other time in his life, he was doing it purely out of respect for the Beaufort Creek alpha.

Blake, I heard, had been mated in a rather unconventional fashion. His mother-who had died at the end of the recent war with the Gilberts-had invited a woman from each pack in the surrounding territories to participate in what couldn't have been described as anything other than a sort of hunger games for hearts.

What I read in the reports was utterly barbaric. Women competed against each other in trials created by the alpha for a pass at his hand. And then he ended up being mated with a woman who had attempted to murder him-twice.

At least, that was as far as the reports indicated. Jermaine, Blake's head of security, wouldn't allow me to dig much further. I didn't blame the man for wanting to protect his alpha. There was strange-and then there as downright ridiculous. The mate pairings were certainly of the ridiculous persuasion with an edge of madness thrown into the bunch.

An auction was worse than plucking names out of thin air. If anyone else doubted the way these two alphas were announcing pairs, it wasn't apparent. There had to be better means to protect our packs. War had long since passed, enemies were minimal if not totally nonexistent, and some of us were content with passing the time alone or with strangers from a bar.For more free novels, visit FindNovel.net

Adrenaline was my calling. Service was my choosing. If I had to do anything else, I'd probably rip my tan-brown hair right from my head. The Bravecrest neighborhood was nearing completion and I needed something else to take up my mind. My sights were set on the treehouse in the woods near the beach because it had started to degrade from the weather and lack of upkeep. A project like that could keep a man occupied for months, maybe even years.

It was the perfect distraction.

"Wendell?"

My alpha's voice shimmered through my thoughts like a beam of sunlight through murky water. I blinked a few times, cleared my throat, and offered my alpha a gentle grin. "Yes, sir?"

His smile was teasing, lighthearted, carefree. "Are you with us, dear Wendell? Or are you dreaming of new projects?"

"New projects, of course."

"Your skydiving days aren't over either," Troy joked, "but I hope they won't deter you from helping us organize the mate auction."

My left eye flinched. He hardly missed the reaction, but he didn't say anything about it. Bless him for that. "Not at all, Alpha."

"Is there anyone who has caught your eye of late?"

"None, Alpha."

Troy nodded slowly. He believed me-and thankfully so which turned into a three-part thanking series as a picture fizzled right into my mind's eye that I had hoped would never again surface. It was an image I couldn't deny.

Golden tan skin like burnt wheat fields coated her limbs. Cosmic blue eyes radiated mirth peering out from a long mess of burnt brown hair dashed with orange. Bohemian clothes layered her frame, with sleeveless tops flowing from her shoulders in earthy colors that contrasted with her bright patchwork skirt. Gold rings decorated just about every digit.

Such an image shouldn't have floated into my waking life, but it did, and it wouldn't go away without serious effort. The woman in question was no one worth mentioning let alone thinking about, so it annoyed me that she came up when my alpha asked me if I had my eye on anybody. She wasn't worth watching. But I had noticed her watching me. That was the only thing about her worth noting at all.

Laughter like hers was difficult to forget. The image in my mind shifted, revealing petite feet that pattered the earth in broken yet rhythmic stomps around a campfire. Slender fingers raised up crystals to the moon. Long tendrils of hair swung around her like a silky cape, resting on her shoulders and slithering over her arms in mystical motions that drew my eyes to those very areas.

No, no, no. She wasn't in my life anymore. She didn't need to be in my life anymore. Having her in my head was different than having her in any other arena of my existence. Her place was on Beaufort Creek land with her Beaufort Creek pack while I basked in the glorious reemergence of Bravecrest wolves and bears alike.

She didn't belong to me. She never had.

And if I could help it, she never would.

The pen dented under the crushing weight of my fingers. While the alphas continued organizing the mate auction, I resisted the urge to think of this ditzy woman, this remarkably unextraordinary want-to-be-bimbo who had no business being as gorgeous now as she had been five years ago.

More of the pen dented as more thoughts crashed into my mind that I didn't want. Why did I care if she was here or not? Why was I bothered? She had ditched me, and she had never bothered to go looking for me when I disappeared. In fact, she had ditched me long before I had ever disappeared, so what kind of man would care about that?

"...Laurencia would make a fine addition."

The pen snapped in half. Ink spilled over my fingers and stained the crevices of my palm. While the liquid was cool, my blood boiled raging hot as I attempted to control the flood of lava that had become my gaze just from hearing her name.

Troy observed me in a way scientists study mice in a maze. A mixture of embarrassment and annoyance rose in my chest and dispersed in my mouth like the jelly center of a sour candy. I tried to swallow it down, but there was no hiding such things from an alpha like Troy. There wasn't much use trying to hide it.

"I agree," Blake stated while jotting the name down in his notebook. "Any potential matches?"

Troy held my gaze as he replied to the Beaufort Creek alpha, "None that I'm aware of."

I gulped. The heat in here was mounting-and it wasn't the Beaufort humidity amplifying it.

"Any others?" Blake inquired.

What popped up in my alpha's mind twinkled in his eyes. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, but I could certainly feel it. "Wendell, do you think it's entirely outdated to have only the women standing on stage for the auction?"

"I do, Alpha." Gods, was that my voice? Parched and scratchy from thinking far too hard and far too long about a woman who meant absolutely nothing to me?

Troy nodded. "Let's mix it up then, Blake."

"Excellent idea."

"Wendell, would you be interested in participating in the auction?"

My panic sparked like static between a balloon and a sweater. "Me? I wouldn't be much of a good match to anybody in the crowd. I'm just a builder, and an assistant, and an extreme sports sort of guy."

"You're a perfect match for somebody, Wendy," Troy teased. "I feel it in my heart that your mate exists already within the collective pack."

No, that simply wasn't possible. The woman who would have been my mate-who should have acted like my mate-had rejected me. He had spoken her name and felt the jagged edges of my energy that spiked whenever she was near. No auction could change that. No apology, however genuine, could change that either. There was no going back.

"I don't believe that's true," I said in a low voice. Defeat was well on its way. Now more than ever, I wanted to work on that treehouse. I was dead set on it. "Nobody could be my match."

"I don't believe that's true," Troy parroted. "You have your match, Wendy. We all do."

"What about people who aren't monogamous?"

His grin split between amusement and disbelief. "None of us are practicing polyamory here in the collective pack, so I can't speak to that."

"But what if they were?"

"Such distractions you chase."

Irritation hit harder than embarrassment. I wasn't distracting my alpha-I was asking pertinent questions about things that none of us had yet discussed. This mating business wasn't new, but the ways it was getting done was too fresh for such ancient traditions. Not to mention the fact that our packs had joined at the hip.

All of this was breaking new territory. There were plenty of things left unspoken and undiscovered, much like how mixed pairings had been new about twenty years ago. Thanks to shifters like Dr. Windsor and the open-mindedness of the Beaufort Creeks, we were well ahead of the scientific game when it came to observing the effects of such mixes, which were largely safe and perfectly sound.

Mixed families became a common thread with our pack, hence the prevalence of wolves and bears. Though their mixing often produced one or the other instead of a hybrid. If there were hybrids in the world somewhere, we had yet to be informed. We had yet to experience it first-hand.

But this matching business, this announcement business, was in its infant stages, too much so to be respected by a reasonable mind such as mine. There was more to be discovered-and avoided.

Troy nodded, the movement of his head drawing me back into reality. Distractions were easy to come by these days, yet it was unlike me to ignore my leaders. Of course, today was just chalk full of things that were unlike me.

Like wondering who in the world would bid on a no-class klutz like Laurencia Sharman.

"Wendy, could you make a full list of names with their contact information? I'd like to have everything squared away by Friday so we can host the auction in Saturday night."

I bowed my head. "Yes, Alpha."

"I'd also like you to visit the seamstress, Penelope."

"The pelican?"

Every bit of Troy's expression turned from the doting alpha to a criticizing mentor. "Wendy, we talked about this."

"Sorry, of course," I apologized quickly, "she's more than her shifter side. I'm sorry, Alpha Troy."

His smile turned approving. That took a load off my heart. Never again would I dare to make the same mistake in his presence.

After a quick nod, he motioned to the notebook in front of me. "Please, make a list. If you're unable to participate in the auction, I'd appreciate you taking notes on the crowd. Observe what you see before they bid. Take note of what happens after they win the bid." More nodding from obedient little me. If it meant I could avoid a disastrous relationship, then I would take all the notes in the world. Nothing could stop my fingers from typing into the detachable keyboard of my iPad. I would make my alpha proud with my notetaking, and I would make sure to avoid any infractions in the future.

Though Troy wasn't entirely aware of my opinion on the matched mates business, he could probably sense it from me. Any dissent-perceived or otherwise-would surely be met with heated force. He'd likely toss me into the first match he saw in the crowd or backstage. I wouldn't even get a say in it.

Did anyone ever get a say in it? I guarded my sigh with the clearing of my throat. Everyone seems happy with their pairings. What if that's not the case for me?

What in the world was I thinking? It wasn't like I was up for auction. My hairy hide was temporarily saved. My best bet was to get a list made in no time at all to impress my alpha and keep him from getting any ideas of throwing me to the wolves-literally. "Visit Penelope," Troy repeated sternly. "Get yourself fitted in a nice suit."

I bowed my head. "Would you like me to get your suit as well, Alpha?"

"And Blake's."

"Yes, of course."

Once I located my phone, my thumbs flew across the screen, making a list of what Troy needed done. This was our song and dance for as long as he had been alpha of the Bravecrests. I never stopped being his assistant, not even when the Gilberts attempted to slay every last one of us. I would be with him until the bitter end-and hopefully, our end wouldn't be as bitter as it nearly had been in the care of that insidious Dr. Myrtle. At least he's no longer an issue.

Our typical pleasantries could have concluded our meeting, yet Blake and Troy were focused entirely too much on Laurencia and what she could bring to the auction stage. Both of them went on about her talents, her skill with baking and her commitment to ritual keeping. Yet neither of them saw her as she truly was, a snake in the grass waiting to strike.

That was Laurencia. That would always be her true form despite being a leopard. She would never live up to my standards, and I wouldn't doubt that her next relationship would suffer the same fate as her last.

She would undoubtedly ruin it-much like she had me.