Carnage Island (Reject Island)(3)

Howls take over the night, sending another shiver down my spine.

Our packs are uniting as one, the wolves joining together in harmony as our ceremony officially begins.

I’m not allowed to join in on the howls; none of the females are. Not that there are many in attendance tonight. Most are home, protecting their offspring with a few enforcers remaining behind.

My mother is here because of me.

Just as Alpha Bryon’s mate is here to show her support of this union.

The rest are males, their animalistic aggression a hot wave in the chilly winter air.

My wolf whines inside, begging to be released. I resist her, just as I’ve always done, the pain in my heart spiraling through my veins and sending electric shocks to my fingertips. It’s never felt natural to suppress her. But I do what I have to for my pack.

I do what I need to do… to survive.

Canton places his hand on my head, his fingers running through my hair. He’s pleased that I’m obeying and remaining still while everyone howls, including him. It’s a display of my loyalty to him as my intended mate. It’s a show of understanding my place in our packs.

I may possess the heart of an Alpha, but I will never be the Alpha. Men are stronger. I accept that. I accept my place. I accept him.

On most days, I think, recalling my mother’s warnings about choosing my battles.

Swallowing, I wait for the men to calm and the next phase of this ceremony to begin.

Canton circles me, his eyes roaming over my exposed skin. I can feel his approval and interest. He knows he’ll finally be allowed to taste me tonight. My own interest is slickening my thighs. He’s an Alpha in his prime, a beautiful specimen of a male with a jawline I’ve wanted to lick from the moment I first met him.

Canton leans down to press a kiss to my temple, his breath warm as he whispers, “I can smell your arousal, Clove. You’re already ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

I don’t answer. Not because I don’t want to, but because I can’t.

He chuckles, his lips meeting my temple again as he adds, “Good girl.”

Another test—one I pass. Because I know better than to move or reply. I don’t even clench my legs despite the desire pooling between them.

I focus on my wolf instead and my excitement to finally feel her outside of my heart.

The need to shift is all-consuming now, with the moon an added seduction against my skin.

But I have to wait. Canton will call on me when he’s ready, when he’s finally chosen me publicly.

“I approve,” I hear him growl, a few of the wolves chuckling at the clear intent in his tone.

I’ve never attended a mating ceremony, but I’ve heard stories. Sometimes the males claim their females for the pack to see, not just via their bite, but their bodies as well. I’m hoping Canton doesn’t go that route. I want the freedom to run once he allows me to shift.

But I won’t be able to fight him whenever he forces me back into human form.

So he could technically make me shift quickly between forms, claim me, then let me run.

Or he may never let me run at all.

It’s a fear I’ve harbored all my life. I’ve met females whose mates preferred them in human form. However, I think Canton will approve of my wolf and let me frolic. Our meetings have all been positive and the fact he calls me Clove says he respects my choices.

A low hum of growls ignites in the air, the wolves anticipating the final bond.

I’ve missed whatever Alpha Crane has said, my mind too focused on what comes next.

Canton’s palm encircles the back of my neck as he steps into my space, placing my head near his upper thigh. He’s tall and wider than me, as are most male shifters. I’ve always been petite for my status, my alpha tendencies inside more than outside.

“Close your eyes,” Canton says softly, his opposite hand going to my cheek in a tender caress. “This is going to hurt.”

I do what he requests, my body alight with nervous energy. It buzzes through my veins, sending tingling sensations to my fingertips.

The final test.

Canton releases a low growl, one that causes my wolf to whine inside me. She doesn’t want to be forced out; she wants to choose.

But that’s not how this works.

She’s not in charge here. Canton is, and she has to respect that or we’ll both pay the ultimate price—rejection.

He growls again, this time with a little more force, sending vibrations down my limbs. I force myself to breathe, to remain calm, to let him control my change. But his third growl is harsher now, demanding my animal comply and causing my bones to snap beneath his power.

By the fifth growl, tears are rolling from my closed eyes, my wolf fighting the call of our mate.

“It’s natural to fight,” my mother warned me before the ceremony. “Just let nature take its course. The Alphas want a strong mate. And you’re the strongest of all of us.”

Canton’s grip on my nape tightens, his growl becoming even more aggressive.

I lose count of how many times he snarls.

I’m too lost to the sensation of my bones snapping and shifting, the movements foreign and painful.

How do the females submit to changing back for the claiming? I wonder, my insides turning to liquid fire as a whimper escapes my lips. How do they enjoy the claiming?

I’ve heard that the claiming is a beautiful ceremony filled with passion and pleasure.