Upon arrival, the grand ballroom unfolded as a dazzling spectacle, a sea of shimmering gowns and sharp tuxedos. The air thrummed with polite conversation and the delicate clinking of glasses. As we followed Matt towards the entrance, he paused, then turned to us, a broad smile plastered on his face. "Well, I hope you two lovebirds enjoy the night," he said, "I'm just going to go mingle a bit." With a wink, Matt was already off, weaving through the crowd and striking up conversations with other wolves as if he owned the place.
I turned back to Derick, my heart pounding at the thought just being the two of us again. I heard about the ball every year, but was unable to go myself due to not being of age, however as a requirement for graduation we were all required to learn some form of ballroom dancing.
A knot of fear and anxiety tightened within me at the thought of facing my family, and especially Josh, after my confession to Derick. My anxiety spiked further when, I'd overheard the assistant mention the scars on my back to Matt, and I knew Derick had heard it too. While I was relieved neither of them spoke of it directly, the mate bond allowed me to feel the simmering anger radiating from Derick.
The grand ballroom was a breathtaking, almost overwhelming, experience, even from our vantage point near the entrance. The opulent chandelier cast a warm, golden glow on the swirling colors of gowns and the crisp lines of tuxedos. I could feel Derick's arm brush against mine as we waited, a silent anchor in the bustling atmosphere. The collective hum of conversations, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter, was a stark contrast to the quiet dread settling in my stomach. My palms felt slick, and I instinctively tugged at the hem of my dress.
As we began to move with the flow of people towards the receiving line, Derick's thumb gently traced a circle on my back. "Hey," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that I felt more than heard. "You look a little pale. Are you sure you're okay with this? We can always just slip back out." His concern was a comforting balm, but it also amplified my own resolve. I met his gaze, forcing a smile that felt wobbly at the edges. "No," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "I'm fine. I'm here. I just… I need to face them. I'm not going to run away from this, Derick."
The receiving line. The words themselves felt like a physical weight pressing down on me. I could feel Derick's presence beside me, a solid, unwavering force that was the only thing keeping me from turning tail and fleeing. My breath hitched as we drew closer, the murmurs of greetings growing louder. Then, they came into view.
My stepfather, David, his jaw set in a familiar, unpleasant line, his eyes flicking over Derick and me with a barely concealed disdain. Beside him, my mother, Iris, looked smaller than ever, her usual warmth dimmed, a subtle tremor in her hands as she clasped them in front of her. And then there was Josh. He stood at the end of the line, an unnerving stillness about him, his eyes – those unsettlingly calculating eyes – locked onto me. It was like a predator assessing its prey, and a cold dread, far deeper than mere nerves, coiled in my stomach.
David's voice cut through the polite pleasantries, laced with that passive-aggressive edge I knew all too well. "Well, well," he drawled, his gaze lingering on Derick's hand, which rested lightly on the small of my back. "I see Derick has decided to officially mark you Cassy." The air around me seemed to thicken, the unspoken accusations and judgments hanging heavy. I wanted to shrink away, to disappear into the tapestry of the ballroom, but Derick's thumb continued its gentle tracing on my lower back, a silent reminder to stand tall. My mother offered a weak, tremulous smile, her eyes meeting mine for a fleeting moment, conveying a silent apology, a shared pain that spanned years of David's emotional and subtle physical abuse.
Josh, however, said nothing. He simply watched, his stillness more terrifying than any verbal jab. I could feel the mate bond humming between Derick and me, a protective warmth, but it also amplified the raw, simmering anger radiating from him, directed at the disrespect being shown to me.
I could feel Derick's anger growing, his wolf on the edge of bursting out. I couldn't let Derick expose himself, not after all he did to keep his identity a secret. I decided to ignore Josh altogether, better to pretend he was not there then to acknowledge his presence, and turned to my Stepfather David.
I turned, my gaze finding my stepfather, David. I took Derick's arm, a gentle but firm pull bringing him closer. "Well, Father," I started, "After we got to know each other," I added, a familiar heat blooming on my neck at the potent memory of our early explorations, "we decided to complete the Mate bond." Then I looked Derick straight in the eyes holding his attention, "And I couldn't be happier." I said with a real smile this time, and felt Derick's anger slowly die down.
My words hung in the air, a defiant statement aimed squarely at Josh, though I didn't allow my eyes to linger on him. The shift in Derick's energy was palpable. The tight coil of his anger began to unwind, replaced by a subtle warmth that radiated from him, a silent acknowledgment and approval. David's lip curled, his disdain a tangible thing, but he said nothing more, clearly unwilling to engage in a direct confrontation with Derick. My mother's gaze, however, held mine for a moment longer, a flicker of something akin to hope in her usually downcast eyes.
As we moved past them, the pressure in my chest eased, replaced by a shaky relief. Derick's arm remained a comforting presence, his hand now resting on my waist, drawing me closer. I could still feel Josh's eyes on my back, a phantom sensation that prickled my skin, but the power he held over me was starting to fade, eroded by my own growing courage and Derick's unwavering support.
A gentle pressure on my elbow guided me away from the receiving line. Derick steered me towards a quieter alcove, the soft velvet of the wall a welcome, albeit temporary, respite from the swirling chaos of the ballroom. He turned me to face him, his expression etched with a mixture of relief and lingering concern. "That was brave, Cassy," he said, his voice low and rough. He reached up, his thumb brushing away an imaginary speck of dust from my cheek. "You handled them. Especially Josh. I could feel you tensing when you looked at him."
I managed a weak smile, leaning into his touch. The adrenaline that had carried me through the confrontation was starting to wane, leaving behind a residual tremor. "He still unnerves me," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. The thought of the scars on my back, the source of so much of my fear and shame, resurfaced, a dark cloud threatening to overshadow the fragile peace I'd found with Derick. I instinctively reached for the back of my dress, my fingers brushing against the cool fabric.
Derick's gaze followed my movement, and for a moment, I braced myself for him to mention the scars. Instead, his hand found mine, his fingers lacing through my own. He squeezed gently, his eyes holding a depth of understanding that always surprised me.
"Remember this," Derick's voice, a low rumble that vibrated against my ribs, pushed me against the wall. His hand, calloused and firm, cupped my jaw, tilting my face upwards. The mask, a sliver of darkness against his skin, shifted, revealing the raw intensity in his eyes, was pushed to the side. "We are in this, etched into the same damn fate now. And I will tear apart anything that dares to breathe a threat in your direction."
The sheer force of his proximity, the scent of ozone and something wild clinging to him, stole my breath. A heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment flared, coiling low in my belly. My skin prickled, a thousand nerve endings screaming to life. It wasn't just a blush; it was a wildfire consuming me from the inside out. A desperate, primal urge surged – to press myself against him, to meld into him until the boundaries between us dissolved entirely, to feel the solid, unyielding strength of him against my most vulnerable core.
Derick seemed to sense the heat building within me, the unspoken yearning, and leaned down to steal a kiss, a sweet surrender. But before our lips could truly meet, a booming voice ripped through the room. "Congrats to all the newly mated pairs!" the DJ announced from the stage. Derick, instantly reminded of our surroundings, gently adjusted his mask. "Please come to the dance floor to kick off the first dance of the night."
The spark ignited between us fizzled in a blink, leaving me reeling. I couldn't fathom how I'd gotten so carried away. A mortified whisper escaped me, "Oh, for goddess sake!" Was it my human heart or my wolf's spirit that felt the most frustrated? I had the distinct urge to throw a childish tantrum, like a little one deprived of their dearest treasure.
My head snapped toward Derick, and the sheer amusement rolling off him through our bond was almost overwhelming. A low, delighted chuckle rumbled from his chest, sending a fresh wave of heat to my face, painting it crimson. He offered me his hand, his gaze lifting towards the dance floor, a silent invitation. "Let's go," he said, his voice laced with playful teasing.