Chapter 1: It Starts With A Party

By the time I make it to the old graveyard where the party is, the festivities are already in full swing. There is a giant bonfire off to the side, where a bunch of teenagers are hanging out. Someone is blaring music from the back of a truck and there were more than a few couples hanging out in the shadows doing Goddess knows what.

Our pack might be fairly lax on PDA, but trust me, no one here wants to see that.

I spot Maverick, already the life of the party. He’s dancing by the bonfire with a Solo cup in his hand.

Watching, I admire him for a moment; the way his hips shake and his arms move, how he doesn’t spill a drop of his drink. He wears a blinding smile. I let my eyes eat my heart out, but too soon, he’s breaking the spell and spots me.

Waving off the others, he heads toward me.

“Hey.”

It comes out a little too breathless for someone just standing here.

“Cayden! Took you long enough. You aren’t even fashionably late, but at least your hair looks good,” he remarks, reaching his hand up to my hair. I push it away before he can do any damage. If he runs his fingers through it, the strands will only stick out all over the place.

He laughs and moves away, toward our spot. I frown behind him, looking down at my jeans and hoodie. Sure, it’s casual, but it’s also the middle of Autumn and I get cold. But he mentioned my hair so, that’s cool.

Maverick, however, looks picture perfect. A forest green sweater clings to his chest, with a hint of a gray t-shirt underneath. His brown leather jacket completes the look, and although he wears jeans too, they’re cuffed around his boots. His dark hair is side swept and I know if I were to call him out on the kohl around his eyes, he’d just deny it, even though we both know that he started wearing make-up a few years ago to help hide his ‘poor complexion’.

Please, Maverick was carved from stone, and no one is changing my mind.

He hands me a beer as I sit next to him atop the gravestone. This spot overlooks the Ganymede pack land perfectly. You can see the town square lit up like Christmas lights, as well as the healing center where Mom and I work. The training grounds are the largest area outside of the forest surrounding the perimeter.

The view looks the same as it always does, never changing or flowing with time. What does change is the people. Beside me, my best friend is about to be crowned king, and me? Well, I’ll be up bright and early tomorrow to get ready for the crowning ceremony before I head off for my shift at the healing center. Some things never change, and some things do.

I glance over to Maverick as he sips away at his beer. The heat from the bonfire is warm against my back, but it glows upon Maverick’s face, plunging half of him in shadow and the other in an almost angelic light.

I enjoy the quiet comfort of him next to me. Starting tomorrow, Maverick will do whatever it is kings do, while I check in patients for their yearly physicals. I never noticed the divide between us until now, even though it was there all along.

There is a loud gaggle of giggles behind us and a curse as a few beer bottles are knocked over and clink to the ground. Maverick and I both turn to find Kline surrounded by three different girls, none of them barely able to hold themselves up.

I roll my eyes. Kline is the biggest playboy of the entire pack, but he gets away with it because he’s the Beta Apparent. Tomorrow, when Alpha King Horace crowns Maverick, Maverick will announce Kline as his Beta. I’d be lying if I said I was happy about that. The Beta is the closest companion to the Alpha, which means Kline will be his most trusted.

No one trusts Kline.

I cringe in disgust as Kline leans into one girl, chasing her lips. Maverick turns away, looking back over the pack land.

I turn away too so I don’t upchuck the dinner I didn’t eat.

“Do you really think Kline is ready to become Beta?”

A girly coo of ‘Klineee’ slides off someone’s tongue, but my attention turns to focus on Maverick.

There is a distance to his eyes as he gazes over his people and his land. I wonder what put it there, but Maverick just looks at me, the hint of a smile on his face now. Or maybe I just imagined his faraway stare.

“Cay, you worry way too much. You’re going to gray if you keep it up.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

Maverick snorts, “Right. Gingers don’t gray. You just stay red like an apple.”

I must look put-out because he laughs, the sound carrying off on the wind.

It’s a pleasant sound and I can’t help but wonder how often in the future I’ll be able to hear it.

It drowns out Kline in the background. And the party. And the music.

Until it’s just us two.

Because if there is one thing that will never change, it’s my feelings for my future king.