Her Daughter's Mate

Aria's POV

I checked the time again. 9:45 p.m.

The third time in ten minutes. There was no sound in the house, but only the ticking of the wall clock. My phone was on the table and the screen was on with unanswered calls.

Damien still hadn't picked up.

I exhaled and rested my back against the couch, and had to take a breath. I was likely to be busy, I said to myself. He had to be. The job of the pack was sometimes too much, and perhaps there was some emergency at the border. He could never skip the eighteenth birthday of his daughter on purpose... could he?

However, I was aware of lying to myself.

"Mom?"

I glanced round and beheld Lyra standing at the doorway. Her hazel eyes, which were usually bright, were dull.

"Is Dad coming?" she said, and her fingers were twitching at the hem of her sleeve.

I cleared my throat and replied. "Of course, sweetheart. He'll be here soon."

She looked at me as she did not think it. Last year neither did he come. Or the one before that."

Lyra, I said, patting the place next me on the couch. She leaned back, leaning against me. "Your father loves you, okay? He's just... busy."

Too busy to have his daughter a birthday? she mumbled.

That struck me like a blow to the heart.

I smiled feebly and wiped a strand of hair off her face. "He'll come. You'll see. He wouldn't miss this one."

But after hours of waiting, I too could no longer feign it. The cake remained untouched, the candles melted in small puddles of wax, and the food was lying cold on the dining table. The decorations which I had spent all the day preparing now looked like ridicule.

At eleven, Lyra was no longer able to conceal her dismay. She then rose and said goodnight, Mom, and went off to her room.

Goodnight, baby, I called after her, and had to smile, which she could not see.

As she closed her door the house sank back into silence.

I washed the dishes one by one, without weeping. This was not the first occasion when Damien was doing this, yet this night was not supposed to be the same. She was turning eighteen. Her first change was on the way, her first mating ceremony was not far away-- everything was different.

He should've been here.

Where are you, Damien?

I jumped at the sound of the front door being thrown open. My heart skipped. I swiveled around, and I was relieved. "Damien!"

He leaned against the door, and was waving. Even before he could talk the strong odor of alcohol pervaded the atmosphere. My relief vanished.

I said, You are late, and attempted to speak in a calm voice. "Lyra waited all night for you."

He laughed derisively and tossed his keys on the table. "So?"

"So?" I repeated, shocked. "It was her birthday. You promised you'd be