BLUE HILL LUNA

CHAYSE'S POV

My father, the Beta, always warned me.

But my life never went as planned.

They didn't just warn me away; they practically shoved me out the door. A silk dress. Makeup. A corset that crushed my abdomen until I couldn't breathe.

"Go get married tonight," my father ordered.

He just wanted me gone. He was tired of my training, tired of my ambition to take his rank as the next Beta of the Amber Sky Pack. I was a distraction.

This gathering wasn't for socializing. It was for one thing: Mating. Every eligible wolf between eighteen and twenty-five was here to dance, drink, and find their forever.

I ignored the ballroom. I went straight up the stairs to the large rooms, making a beeline for the bar.

I didn't drink, but I liked watching the bartenders. It was a distraction.

I got myself a bottle of Scotch—a defensive move. I snatched a plateful of the finest sweets and pastries and sat back down. Fortress Chayse.

I took a sip of the Scotch. It burned clean.

That's when the first idiot slid over.

His smile was sloppy. His words slurred, thick and sweet.

"Hey, did it hurt when you fell from heaven? 'Cause you look like the finest angel to exist."

Nope. Not my Mate. And definitely not sober.

I pushed the barstool with my elbow. He tumbled to the floor.

Victory. I celebrated with a large bite of a chocolate chip cookie.

Suddenly, I felt cold, bone-deep exhaustion. I needed coffee. My father wouldn't even let me have chocolate milk without asking first, but tonight, I was filling up on caffeine and sugar.

"Chayse!"

Eliza. My best friend. My annoying, high-pitched best friend.

I set down my coffee cup.

"You said you wouldn't leave me to the appealing men!" She grabbed my arm, her grip frantic, and dragged me onto the dance floor.

"Monitor me!" she gasped. "I don't want to get caught up in their... their *gorgeous*... faces... jawlines..."

She started to drool. I laughed, snapping her out of the trance.

"Look, I'm not getting chosen, and I don't want you falling for anyone," I teased, grabbing her hands and swinging her hard around the room.

"Yeah right. You definitely won't get chosen," she snorted, but the sarcasm died when her eyes went wide.

She stopped moving. She sniffed the air, her face focused, her eyes scanning the room.

Her gaze locked on a man sitting at a table. He was doing the same—scanning, searching.

They moved toward each other. Fast. They met and he crushed her in a hug.

Eliza was gone.

Her Mate. James. A massive soldier from our class. He was a good wolf. I felt a pang of relief for her. She was safe. She would stay here.

I went back to my barstool. Alone.

My treats were still there. I reached for a second piece of fudge.

That's when the gasps started.

The sound tore through the music. I turned.

My nose