Beaufort Creek Shifters (10 book series)
The Wolf’s Auctioned Mate Chapter 4

Laurencia

My neck felt naked. Actually, I felt naked despite being fully clothed. Wearing nothing would have been preferable to the strange contraption that Penelope had convinced me would attract a mate. I was a damn leopard, after all, not a peacock trying to show off my feathers or something. As I dug my thumbs into the glittering silver corset to free my tits a little bit, I pursed my lips and cringed. Do peacock shifters actually do that? Gods, I got to get to the library and start brushing up on my knowledge for trivia night.

Big band music played just on the other side of the curtain down the hall. I was situated between the dressing rooms and the doors housing props and such for plays. This makeshift theater was great for the school hosting their performances, but if the alphas thought there was enough space for me to walk in these ridiculous heels, then they were tripping on mushrooms.

Faint voices rose from the left. Feedback from a microphone whined from the right. A resonating masculine voice made a ravishing announcement. Or I thought it sounded ravishing. Something like that. I was nervous, and this corset was squeezing the life out of both me and my poor tits.

"...Miss Laurencia Sharman!"

I squeaked as I snatched my clutch from nearby-also in sparkling silver to match my mermaid gown-and hustled it down the hallway toward the stage. Every second step caused my ankle to roll. By the time I reached the curtain, I was sure I had sprained both my ankles and possibly popped my knee out of place.

The curtain parted. Both alphas stood behind a podium wearing tuxedos and smiles. Another man stepped forward to take my hand and help me up the steps-and I promptly tripped.

Gasps scattered through the crowd as the man caught me by the waist, spun me elegantly, and then dipped me in time to the big band music playing over the speakers. Applause exploded from the crowd with Troy's voice speculating over the noise that I was a skilled dancer.

Great save, Alpha, I thought. But you can't save me from being awkward again. Just pray I don't break my face on this nice stage.

I gave my most dazzling smile to the man holding me, trying to ignore the weird pang that stung my gut. His warm hands guided me back to my feet where he bowed deeply while taking my hand to kiss my knuckles. Whistles and hoots echoed from the back. Damn animals, I thought as I played it off. They just want a show, don't they?They would love to see me fuck this up.

Some chuckling reverberated through part of the crowd, and then I heard the cleverest little nickname, "Twinkle toes." More chuckles were disturbed by some booing, including a man from the left side of the crowd chiding those being rude.

Well, at least some people in my pack have some damn manners. I'd give them that. As the man accompanying me on the stage, held my hand a little higher to indicate where I needed to step-thankfully, marked with blue tape in the shape of an X on the stage-l tried to look out into the audience. Stage lights blinded my eyes. It was hard to see who was out there, and who would possibly bid on my head.

I felt more like a pig being led to the slaughter. I knew this pack and I knew their expectations. The grace and civility expected of people like me were all too obvious. Blake prided himself on having a pack based on equitability, but I knew my chances were slim of getting chosen for my individuality. They wanted a performance, so I would give them something to celebrate, whatever that meant.

Why are your shoulders slouched like that? Stop bowing into yourself like a cheap whore wearing a skimpy outfit. Stand up straight, Laurencia Sharman. Jesus, it's like you can't learn a thing!

That scratchy voice came so fast that I could barely register it as I tried to float around the stage. My right toe caught behind my left heel. I stumbled again, the man holding my hand being generously sweet in capturing me and trying to spin me into a waltz. He was just saving my a*s up here and I was ruining my chance at being anything to anyone.

Gods, do you have to wear that crap? Why can't you dress like a normal person? And stop making that weird face when you crochet. Men aren't going to want you if you're weird.

"As you can see, our wonderful Mr. Farthing is accompanying our spirited dancer, Miss Sharman, across the stage," Troy explained, also saving my ass in the process. "Miss Sharman has many hobbies that include holding rituals, praying to the moon, and sewing her own clothes. She credits her grandfather, Patrick, to teaching her the things she practices today."

Hearing about my grandfather made me smile. My eyes searched the crowd, squinting through the horribly bright lights to find that sweet old man with a hunch in his back and bones thinner than the crypt's keeper. How he managed to stand and get around being so thin was a mystery to me. But he persisted, he pushed on, and I had to do the same if I wanted to make something of myself.

My alphas asked me to participate in this auction, so I would give it my all, every last bit of my effort. A tiny cheer in the very back of the auditorium caught my attention.

"That's my granddaughter!"

There he was-my grandpappy. I knew in my heart he would be here somewhere. While I was backstage, I let anxiety and fear take hold of me, forcing me to forget my roots and my support system. He'd always been there for me, and there was no doubt in my mind that he would support me now.

Another voice came through the crackling static of my mind. It overwhelmed that terrible voice, taking root in my heart and reminding me of where I came from and who I truly was inside.

Rena, you've done so well with that skirt, the voice said. You're so creative. You took all my old plaid shirts that I was going to throw away and made something new out of them. See how you can always make something new out of something old?

Tears stung my eyes. This wasn't the time to cry about my grandpappy and his loving ways. But when was a good time? His love stood the testament of an entire damn war, and he had practically raised me himself. He'd never disown me. He wouldn't dare throw me out on my a*s for being who I was.

He was right there in the crowd. And if he was there, then I would survive this just like anything else I survived-with my head held high and my fingers pointed to the sky.

Mr. Farthing released my hand as I stepped toward the center of the stage. I squared my shoulders back and extended my arms toward the ceiling, letting my head tip back to show off my bosom and my neck. With my right foot extending forward and my arms stretching in the opposite direction, I elongated my form and embodied the true character within me, the sweet feline who was playful and agile.

Murmurs of interest danced around the front row and transferred to the next row in the audience. As I shifted my stance and moved into another graceful pose, I focused on my breath, doing everything in my power to keep away the awkward. Had I been granted the ability to wear my beaded necklaces and carry my stones, then I wouldn't feel so awful. Maybe tripping over my own feet wouldn't have happened if I didn't need to wear these stupid heels.

But I ignored all those negative influences. That was just background chatter much like the voice of my dead-to-me mother. Whatever she said was static. What I believed about myself was more important than that-and what I believed now was that I was a talented leopard in the prime of her life. I didn't need a mate. And I would make this crowd believe it so that they bid their hearts out.

The haze of the stage lights dimmed slightly, allowing me to see the audience. Many people were packed in the auditorium, all eligible mates of varying heights and countenances. Though many of them were attractive, I couldn't help focusing on one man in particular, one situated in the far left of the crowd leaning against the wall with the worst kind of scowl on his face and his tan hair smoothed back with one rebellious strand loose.

Surprisingly, Wendell made the suit look good. He usually wore Wrangler jeans and t-shirts, whatever color he snatched from the closet, but this was the complete opposite of his typical attire. No laziness went into this appearance. He had likely gone to Penelope as well, especially if he was unhappy about what he was wearing which couldn't have possibly been clearer to anybody around him.

Ah, they didn't know him very well, did they? Wendell had been a staple in my life up until the war got really bad with the Gilberts. That had been so long ago that I wasn't sure it was part of the same lifetime. I couldn't help wondering if Wendell's scowl was because of that tuxedo or because of the fact that I was stealing attention away from his precious new pack. He always got jealous easily.

I smiled. I wonder if he still gets jealous easily.

Posing would certainly do the trick if I was right. It didn't take much to slip into another cute pose, this one mimicking those darling runway models I loved seeing in the fashion magazines I sliced up for my collage projects. One hand on my jutted hip and my chest out, showing off the cleavage the corset made for me. I wasn't even listening to what Troy was saying about me at this point.

I had other things on my mind. Like how to make Wendell look as angry as possible. It would serve him right for what he did to me. The ire that rolled off his square shoulders intensified when I invited Mr. Farthing to rejoin me, letting him hook his arm around my waist as I casually draped myself on his shoulder. Cheers broke out from the crowd-and then the bids started rolling in.

Never in my life could I have pictured a moment like this.

And never could I have been more satisfied.

Heat from the stage lights burned me up-or maybe that was the rush I was getting from being seen for once. Men clamored at the front to bid for me as their mate, three of them attempting to shout over the masses that had started conversing all at once. People seemed to have plenty of reasons to support me while some were confused by the sudden interest.

I had to side with the few who were confused because this had never happened in the past. There had only ever been Wendell, and that made me wonder what it would be like with anyone else. For any other person to kiss my flesh like Wendell, well, that would certainly be a brand-new adventure.

Though I wasn't sure it was the type of adventure I could handle.

Moonlight dripping through the trees as the last of a fire went out-now that was an adventure I loved having as frequently as possible. Of all the dates I had invited to the woods, Wendell had been the keenest on that sort of idea, on sleeping outside around a campfire that smoldered still until dawn. He had held my hand during the radiance of the sun arising, during the sweetness of the sun setting, and in the magical ascension of the moon.

None of my magic had been strange to him then. But while he was around his pack members, and especially around his nephew, he seemed like he was acting a part. Deviltry, he called it. I couldn't even believe my ears. What kind of tapeworm had crawled up his a*s and taken control of him?

More cheers caught my attention. One of the men in the front row was winning. And that seemed to anger Wendell even more.

I pushed off Mr. Farthing with subtle force and strutted to the spot in front of the man bidding his heart out. Leaning forward drew his attention instantly. I smiled brightly while leaning my hands against my knees.

"Come on, doll. Don't you want to take me home?" I joked.

The man swept his hand over his midnight black hair that was styled back from his forehead in a stylish pomp. "Do you like wolves?"

My smirk widened. "Oh, I love wolves."

"I'm partial to feisty cats."

"I'm a leopard." I held out my hand expectantly. It wasn't like me to do it, to act like I had wealth and status, but it was a playful part, wasn't it? The performance was taking me over.

Pleasure swarmed my body when the man stepped forward to take my hand. He looked handsome enough when he smiled. He was tall with onyx eyes and dark brown skin reminding me of autumn leaves right before the crisp winter. Another pang ripped through my gut, something that warned me against this game I was playing. But it was too much fun. Why would I stop now?

"I'm Drake Mooring of Mooring Construction, voted best construction business in the state for the fifth year in a row. My family is a long-time supporter of Alpha Blake and his family," the man named Drake explained. "Wouldn't you love to be the mate of a successful business owner?"

No, I wouldn't.

But if it got that look on Wendell's face to turn in to shock, then... "Yes, absolutely."

The crowd went wild. Plenty more conversation sucked the air out of the room at once as gasps and startled cries broke out from the left. Somebody was trudging through the crowd and knocking over metal chairs.

And that someone was exactly who I wanted to offend.

I didn't bother sparing Wendell a glance, anything for that matter. I just watched him out of my peripheral vision as I invited Drake to whisk me away.

"Two new playgrounds and a brand-new school from Mooring Construction going once...going twice..." Troy sounded exasperated, but in the best way like he was basically winning a jackpot.

I squeezed Drake's hand. He was getting ready to climb right up with me, smiling like he had gained access to the Templar's treasure, witnessing wonders that no other creature in the universe could have ever dreamed. Just as I pulled on his hand, someone grabbed his shoulder, planted him in place, and caused a ripple through the audience. Everyone went silent.

"Two new playgrounds, one brand-new school, and two upgraded barns," Wendell stated through gritted teeth. He leaned close to the man who had nearly won my bid to add, "For both packs."

The room exploded with energy. I had never experienced the madness that now emanated through the auditorium, a horrifying static of noise that made me lose my hearing temporarily. Drake was shocked enough to release my hand. Wendell stepped forward with a pompous expression, bowing his head as he reached for my hand. He paused within inches of my fingers, forcing me to close the rest of the distance, and then hopped onto the stage to sweep me into his arms.

Was I dreaming? Would I soon wake? No, it had to just be a feverish nightmare of some kind, the one that twists around just when you get what you want and teases you right back into reality. This wasn't Wendell holding me-it was a sleep paralysis demon. Soon, his face would contort and turn into one of the two people who had thrown me onto the lawn with nothing to accompany me into the horrifying darkness of the night.

You'll never be anything, taunted that scratchy voice again. You're just a joke to everyone you meet.

And without warning, the applause returned. The cheers exploded in my ears. The big band music swung me around and around as Wendell did, showing me off to the crowd, planting me on my feet, sweeping his arm around my waist while practically swatting away the man who had shown me off before anyone had even been interested in showing me off.

He was doing the things I had always wanted.

Gods help me, he was doing exactly what I wanted.