POV: Gasper
The night was perfect for everything except stargazing.
Gasper tilted his head back, studying the sky with the quiet frustration of a man who rarely had time for such luxuries. The stars were there, pinpricks of light scattered across the darkness, but the almost-full moon drowned them out. Its silver glow washed over his territory, turning the forest into something mystical and strange.
He didn't get moments like this often. Being an alpha meant constant interruptions. Disputes over rank. Accountants who couldn't balance books. Mates who got rough with their she-wolves or pups. Rogues circling the borders. Rival packs looking for weakness. Wolves seeking sanctuary. And the parties. God, the endless parties where someone always cared about flower colors.
As if he gave a damn about flowers.
He needed a luna. The hope he had been holding onto, the belief that his fated mate would appear, was fading. Maybe he should just pick someone. Anyone. Then he could stop worrying about decorations and delegate the she-wolf disputes. His mother still handled births and emotional crises, and she was getting too old for that. She deserved retirement.
Don't even think about picking a mate. She will be here soon.
Gasper rolled his eyes at Azreal's interruption. His wolf had been saying that for years. Azreal wouldn't even let him touch another she-wolf intimately. Every time Gasper tried, his wolf threw a tantrum that wasn't worth the headache.
So here he was. Twenty-five years old, a virgin, and doomed to be alone. Azreal refused to accept that their mate might be dead or living on another continent. The optimism felt like a Catholic convinced Jesus would return any day now.
She is not dead. I would know.
Azreal's snarl echoed through their shared consciousness.
"Whatever," Gasper muttered aloud, slamming mental walls between himself and his wolf. Azreal wasn't going to ruin this rare moment of peace.
He ran his hand along the bark of a nearby tree. The energy surged in response to his aura, warm and welcoming. The trees on his land were strong, enchanting. They kept humans out and drew wolves in. Dark Moon territory was coveted, and Gasper had fought countless battles to keep it.
Many assumed he was weak without a luna. When a wolf found his mate, another level of power unlocked. It was a gift Gasper craved but didn't need to be stronger than the surrounding alphas. He had proven that repeatedly by ripping challengers' hearts from their chests.
What did a mate's power actually give you? She held the other half of your soul. She made you whole. Gave you something real to fight for. But that same bond left you vulnerable. The fastest way to destroy an alpha was to kidnap or kill his luna. Throughout wolf history, that tactic had started more wars than anything else.
In the best circumstances, a luna balanced an alpha's aggression and transformed a pack from a gathering of wolves seeking safety into a true family. His mother had done that for his father. The pack had been stable then. Now, under Gasper's leadership, there was unrest. He suspected spies were planning something, though he had no proof yet.
Having two alpha parents was the only thing that saved him from losing the territory. He was stronger than most alphas because of it. His father had never been kind in training. He had fought Gasper until Gasper could win, then forced him to fight anyone else who offered.
Six challenges to date. All had ended in death when the challengers refused to submit.
Those victories had gained him a reputation he couldn't shake. Not that he wanted to. Fear kept wolves in line. But fear could change with the wind. When necessary, Gasper attacked first, expanding his territory in every direction. Only a few packs stood in his way now, and how to handle them remained uncertain.
Each conquest brought more land. More land brought more problems. He appointed alphas to the conquered packs, but he had to be present for serious issues. So he traveled constantly, making peace or forcing submission. He wasn't peaceful or forgiving, but he was reasonable. Not every hill was worth dying on.
His father's judgment about Gasper being too brutal made the old man a hypocrite. His father had killed many wolves his mother never knew about, hiding his brutality from her but never from Gasper. Gasper had held men down while his father tortured them. He had fought alongside him, killing hundreds before even leaving school. They had executed wolves publicly to keep everyone in line, sending his mother and sisters shopping during those events.
His father had acquired three territories during his reign. One challenge had been for no reason except that the opposing alpha made negative comments about Gasper's mother.
Gasper, on the other hand, felt no need to hide anything. Maybe he would feel differently if some delicate she-wolf stood behind him, judging his methods.
Our mate is not delicate.
Azreal's growl rumbled through him.
"Okay, chill," Gasper muttered, pushing his wolf back further this time.
The truth was, he felt like he was faking it most of the time. His father had made a mistake handing the pack over when he did. Gasper hadn't been ready. He would never be ready. In times of war, sure. But in times of peace? He had no idea how anyone tolerated the mundane aspects of running a pack. Meetings and paperwork weren't his style.
Maybe once he found his mate, he would run away with her. He had watched how the pack tore his parents apart on multiple occasions. He didn't want that happening to him and his mate. It was already happening to him and Victor. Some days, he regretted making Victor his beta, even though there was no one else he trusted with the job.
They didn't see eye to eye these days. Victor was going through the motions with no heart in anything. Losing Victor's support would be fatal to Gasper's position as alpha. No one in the pack would trust him if Victor didn't. So Gasper was entertaining Victor's idea to form treaties with the last two territories instead of killing their alphas. The treaties Victor had drawn up were genius. Dark Moon would take more than they gave, and the other packs wouldn't notice unless they were smarter than Gasper and Victor.
He doubted they were.
Regardless of his feelings about leadership, Gasper was kind to pack members unless circumstances required otherwise. When he had time, he played with pups and trained warriors. He cared for them, which drove him to maintain his brutal reputation with surrounding packs. The last thing he needed was constant war because he appeared weak. Instead, he was at war constantly because he was hot-headed and stubborn. He couldn't be kind when challenged. Call it ego. He called it survival.
Gasper's foot caught on something.
He tripped, rolling to the side and dropping into a defensive stance. Then his senses slammed back into focus. That smell. Heavenly and thick, running down the back of his throat. Key lime pie on a beach. Citrus, coconut, and ocean.
"Fuck," he whispered.
MATE!
Azreal roared, fully alert.