Chapter 127

Ava

The garden was mercifully quiet when I finally stumbled out into it, the only sounds being the gentle trickle of the stone fountain and the chirping of crickets in the distance. Sinking down onto the edge of the fountain, I buried my face in my hands, my shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

How did this happen to me? How did I go from a woman in love to being threatened by an Elder and being asked to be a concubine in the same night?

I had always known there would be obstacles to being with Chris—the Elders, the pack’s prejudices, a million other factors. But I never imagined it would go this far.

It was unthinkable. Humiliating beyond words.

“Ava? Darling, is that you?”

Suddenly, the soft sound of Ophelia’s voice cut through my reverie. I lifted my head in time to see her rounding the corner of the garden path, holding her skirt up in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other.

“I’m over here, Ophelia,” I managed, quickly swiping away my tears with the palm of my hand.

Ophelia spotted me and strode over to me. When she saw my red-rimmed eyes, she nearly dropped her champagne in her haste to rush up to the bench. “What’s going on?” she asked softly. “I saw you rush out earlier…”

I shrugged, opening my mouth to speak but finding that no words could come. When my lips just started quivering, I quickly looked away. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh, Ava…” Sinking down beside me, Ophelia wasted no time in wrapping her arms around my shoulders and pulling me against her. I went willingly, dissolving into fresh tears against the softness of her silky dress.

“It’s just…” I choked back a sob. “Chris…”

“Shh,” Ophelia reassured me, rubbing my back in slow circles, “no need to talk just yet. Just breathe.”

For a few moments the only sounds were my ragged gasps for air, which were interrupted by the occasional soft murmur of comfort from Ophelia. The garden remained blissfully quiet, all of the guests too enthralled by the festivities inside to come out and break our peace.

Finally, once my sobs had turned into nothing more than sad hiccups, Ophelia cupped my face in her hands and forced me to look into her eyes.

“Now,” she said briskly, “what’s going on? I sense it has something to do with Chris.”

Shaking my head, I pulled back slightly, swiping at my damp cheeks. “It’s not his fault,” I said softly. “It’s just… everything. I wish things were different. And I feel like a weakling for getting this upset over it.”

Ophelia leveled me with a stern glare. “You’re not weak.” She paused, sighing, and bit her lower lip. “Look, I understand that you had to end things with him for the sake of your people. That’s the bravest thing anyone could do—giving up love in exchange for others.”

“It’s not just that,” I managed, my voice trembling slightly. “Apparently one of the Elders suggested an old law that would allow us to be together in secret while he has a wife. We couldn’t have children, nor could we ever publicly show our love. And he would have to produce a biological heir with his wife.”

Ophelia’s eyebrows shot up instantly. “You mean a mistress?” she asked incredulously. “He wants you to play the role of mistress?”

I flinched at the blunt phrasing, fresh tears welling in my eyes. “He doesn’t. But it was given to us as an option. Although…” I paused, thinking back on Elise’s words. I didn’t even know what was an option anymore.

“Although what?” Ophelia prodded.

I shook my head. “Nothing. I told him no. I don’t want to be a concubine. If we can’t be together in public, then I don’t think it’s wise for us to be together at all.”

Ophelia pressed her lips into a thin line. “Good,” she said. “I would hope that you would never settle for something so preposterous. You deserve to be a bride, Ava; not a secret.”

The snort that escaped me was involuntary. “A bride,” I echoed wryly. “I’d hardly be much of a bride anymore anyway. I’m too old, especially for him. To others, I’m just… an old maid.”

Suddenly, Ophelia let out a gasp and swatted at my arm, smacking me squarely. “You hush!” she chided. “That’s no way to speak about yourself! You treat yourself like you’re an ancient old lady sometimes.”

“But it’s true.” I shrugged and stood, pacing over to the fountain’s edge. “Everyone reminds me of it all the time; telling me that I’m too old, that I’m nothing more than a middle-aged housewife, that I’m an old maid. I’m beginning to think that if enough people say it, then it must be right.”

Ophelia let out a low groan. “Did Chris tell you this?” she hissed, rising. “I swear, I’ll ring that boy’s neck—”

“No!” I whirled around and grabbed her arm, pulling her back toward me, refusing to let her go. “No, he didn’t say that. He would never.”

“But Ava—”

“I just need to think tonight, that’s all,” I said softly. “And, dammit, I want to enjoy a party for once.”

Ophelia held my gaze for a long moment, as if weighing my words. Then, slowly, she inclined her head in a reluctant nod.

“Very well,” she sighed, smoothing down the front of her dress. She offered me her hand along with a gentle smile. “Come along then, darling. Let’s go have another drink and dance the night away.”

Sure enough, the moment we stepped back through the terrace doors, we were swallowed up by the raucous sounds of music and drunken laughter. Multicolored lights danced across the crowded ballroom floor as people swayed to the music, the night having devolved beyond the point of a stuffy ball and into something more fun and youthful. The Elders, thankfully, seemed to have retired for the night; or at least, I couldn’t seem to spot them at the moment. Thank the Goddess.

Ophelia and I headed back to the bar, ordering matching martinis to help ease my angst. We spent the next hour chatting and laughing, and soon, I found myself thinking about my pain less and less. For the time being, at least.

“Hey,” a deep voice sounded beside me at one point while Ophelia was off chatting with someone else, pulling me out of my haze. “Could I get you a drink?”

I turned to find Patrick materializing out of the crowd, a smile beneath his mustache. Up close, I could see the faint smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, the sparks of gold flecked through his warm hazel eyes.

In my drunken state, he was handsome. And a drink sounded nice.

My gaze flickered briefly over to the dancefloor, where I could just make out Chris swaying with Amelia, her cherry red curls spilling over his shoulder as she whispered something in his ear. His hands were planted firmly on her hips, holding her close—far too close for my liking.

The sight made my heart twist painfully in my chest. Inhaling a shuddering breath, I turned back to Patrick and accepted his offer.

“Thank you,” I said, forcing a tight smile as I clinked my glass against his. “I could definitely use this.”

We lapsed into silence as we sipped our drinks, the sounds of the party seeming to fade into a dull hum around us. Patrick made no move to initiate further conversation, seeming to understand my need for quiet companionship at that moment.

It wasn’t until our glasses were nearly drained that he spoke again.

“You know,” he said, leaning closer so I could hear him over the music, “if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m great when it comes to answering my phone in a timely manner.”

“Is that so?”

Reaching into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, Patrick produced a pen and grabbed a nearby cocktail napkin. I watched as he scribbled out a number, then handed it to me with a wink.

“Just in case,” he said with an easy shrug.

My gaze drifted back to the dancefloor once more. Chris and Amelia were now nowhere to be found, although I could just make out Chris’s head of blond hair bobbing through the crowd—mingling, no doubt. Or perhaps just unwilling to make contact with me after how upset I had gotten.

Pursing my lips, I looked down at the napkin clutched in my fingers for a brief moment, then back up at Patrick. He was still smiling at me pleasantly, sipping his cocktail. I carefully folded the napkin and tucked it into my clutch with a nod.

“Thanks,” I murmured.

“My pleasure.”

With that, I excused myself and pushed through the crowd toward the ladies’ powder room, fighting back the burning behind my eyes. I couldn’t break down here, surrounded by gossips.

Still, one hushed conversation slipped through the haze as I slipped into the hallway, freezing me in my tracks.

“—never happen,” a female voice whispered. “The Acting Luna doesn’t stand a chance with Alpha Chris. She’s too old for him anyway…”