A Wolf's Fate (A BBW Shapeshifter Romance): The Holiday Ball

THE HOLIDAY BALL:

A WOLF’S FATE

Copyright 2014 by

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Gunner Barringer was attending The Holiday Ball under duress and out of respect for his brother, the new alpha of the pack. He stood in the shadows, hiding. There was nothing for him here tonight. He’d enjoyed the annual event a time or two as a younger wolf. After all, it didn’t get the nickname f*** ball for nothing. But now he was a wolf broken in both body and soul. He had no desire to find a mate and no business being here.

What Gunner had forgotten was more than one match had been made on the night of a full moon when the world was filled with the magic of the holidays.

Autumn Covington was rare in the supernatural world—she was a peace pixie. Which just sucked in the middle of a f*** fest. Instead of giving off vibes of lust and wantonness, like her pencil thin, blonde haired cousins, she calmed the savage beast. Plus, she was the plumpest of pixie at the ball so her chances of finding a mate were…well
slim
to none. So, she’d just work the crowd as she’d been hired to do—sprinkle sparkles of calming pink so the horny wolves didn’t get out control.

That’s what she’d planned to do until the wolf in the shadows decided he wanted her all for himself.

A WOLF’S FATE

Gunner Barringer watched as his brother guided his newly acquired mate around the dance floor. They did little more than sway to the music, his brother constantly touching the curvy woman—her waist, her hips, her generous ass. His touch stopped just shy of gathering the large globes in his hands and squeezing tightly.

It wouldn’t surprise him if his brother’s control snapped and he took her up against the nearest wall. As the night had worn on, the Holiday Ball—or the fuck ball as he liked to call it—had progressed from light flirtations to heavy petting, to fast and furious couplings in a darkened corner of the room.

In order to escape the hungry females on the prowl, he’d decided to hide away in one of those corners. He’d had to chase away a demon and succubus about to get it on from this shadowed corner of the room.

He needed the shadows. Shadows would conceal him, shield him from any prying eyes.

He was male enough to enjoy the way the women ogled him, but cynical enough to dismiss it. He was a wolf and it didn’t matter about anything else. His scars. His fucked up state. Nothing. He was a strong, virile wolf who called to their feminine side.

He took a sip of the whiskey he’d taken from a passing waiter’s tray, welcoming the burn as it slid down his throat. It had been years since he’d attended one of these events even though he remembered his father hosting his share in the past. He remembered those frantic couplings in the dark when he was younger, a wolf on the prowl.

It was his brother’s first official event as alpha and Gunner had attended out of respect for his brother. And the fact that his father had insisted. Even though Adam Barringer had stepped down as alpha, he was still Gunner’s father and one tough assed wolf.

His wolf didn’t stir when he heard footsteps behind him. His wolf had burrowed itself deep inside Gunner, its soul broken and twisted by the events of the last year. As enforcer for the Elder Council, he dealt with the bottom of the barrel in the shifter world. He dealt with those no longer able to control their animalist urges—to hunt. Or kill.

He had faced his most difficult challenge six months ago. A wolf who had turned rabid and rogue, taking out his family and several members of the Townsend pack who had tried to stop him. Gunner
had
stopped him. He shook away the memories, unwilling to relive them yet again.

He fingered the scar that ran from the end of his brow to the corner of his mouth. A wolf did not scar unless he received a near fatal injury.

The scent of his younger brother hit him and he relaxed. Slightly.

“Hey, bro.” Lucas’ voice was deep, almost soothing. As well as being the youngest of the brothers, he was the kinder, gentler Barringer. And not just because of his age. He’d just turned eighteen a few moths ago. No, Lucas had inherited their mother’s restful spirit. He stopped at Gunner’s side and Gunner sensed his hesitation in touching him in greeting. Hayden had done the same damn thing earlier in the evening. Were his brothers afraid he would snap and attack his own blood? Again, memories of the rogue wolf threatened to flood his mind. He pushed them away. He knew his brothers hesitated in touching him because for a while, right after the incident, he’d been unable to tolerate the touch of others. A wolf needed physical contact in order to stay grounded, but taking down the killer wolf had broken something inside him.

Not broken.

Gunner started at the softly whispered words. It wasn’t his wolf. The animal hadn’t spoken to him in months.

“Did you say something?” Gunner turned to face his brother.

Lucas shook his head. “No, man.”

Gunner believed him and turned his attention back to the dance floor.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Lucas’ voice held a note of wistfulness. Gunner didn’t need to ask which woman. Both of their gazes locked on the dark haired woman laughing in Hayden’s arms.

“Yeah, she is.”

“She’s, umm, curvy, too.” Gunner felt rather than saw his brother shift his weight. No doubt, the younger wolf was remembering the scene they had interrupted in Hayden’s bedroom earlier tonight. His brother had been fucking his mate from behind. Her rounded hips had cushioned each thrust and her heavy breasts had swayed in time to the pounding her pussy was taking.

“She’s damn near perfect.”

Lucas turned to him, his brow raised. Gunner could tell the younger man already considered her perfect. “What would make her perfect?”

“If she was my mate.”

“I—”

Gunner cupped his brother’s shoulder, hearing the concern in his voice. “Don’t worry little brother. I’m not about to fight the alpha for his mate. I just meant having a woman as curvy, as beautiful would be good.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep, there’s nothing like having a curvy woman in your bed. I think you discovered that tonight, didn’t you?” He couldn’t resist the taunt and was rewarded by the red staining Lucas’ cheeks.

“So, you want a mate, brother.”

Shit. Gunner cursed himself for the Freudian slip. He didn’t want a mate. Didn’t need a mate.

Lair.

This time Gunner swung around, his fists clenched. “Tell me you heard that?” he demanded of his brother.

“Heard what?”

Maybe his senses were off. He hadn’t been around this many people in months. After he’d taken out the rogue, he’d retreated to the family’s hunting lodge high on Breakneck Mountain. He’d spent weeks there, trying to reconnect with his wolf. He’d made progress, but apparently not enough to rejoin society if he was hearing damn voices.

“Nothing.” His eyes scanned those around him. For a moment, his gaze lingered on a rounded woman who looked to be in her late—fifties? For some reason it was difficult to determine her age. She reminded him of pictures in a fairytale book his mother had once read to him. He continued to scan the area, assuring himself all was well. When he turned his attention back to the woman, he could have sworn she winked at him. She did wave the tiny wand she held in his direction, releasing a shower of red sparkles.

He motioned over a passing waiter carrying a crystal tray filled with shots of whiskeys. He took the tray from the man and placed it on the table. Champagne just wouldn’t cut it. Not tonight.

“So, what do you think about Dad and
his
new mate?” Lucas watched as his older brother threw back a shot of whiskey. And then another. Hayden had told him Gunner was getting better, but right now, it didn’t look that way to him. Yeah, he’d laughed for the first time tonight in a very long time. But right now, he was jumpy as a cat in a roomful of rocking chairs.

“The question is how are
you
doing?” There was deep concern in Gunner’s voice and it warmed Lucas’ heart. He loved his older brothers and would anything for them. He knew that feeling was returned tenfold.

Gunner had always appeared unfeeling and cold at times. Lucas knew the opposite was true. To be a good enforcer—and Gunner was the best as far as Lucas was concerned—you had to be able to read every emotion a shifter had. Love, sadness, anger, killing rage. It was that last emotion that had almost taken his brother from him.

“I’m great with it. I think Mom would have been, too.” The brothers had lost their mother over five years ago. The days after her death had been hard, but he’d never begrudge his father the chance at happiness again.

Gunner nodded in agreement. “Hayden and I were wondering. You were always closer to Mom.”

“You mean she babied me.” Lucas spoke with all the teenaged angst of a male wolf. And all the true affection a son could have for his mother.

The brothers shared a smile and another shot of whiskey. That was the second—no his third smile of the evening, Gunner thought. From the moment he’d walked into the party, he’d felt a sense of peace fluttering around him. Maybe, just maybe, he was on his was to healing.

The brothers stood in silence watching the dancers until a group of younger wolves walked up, asking Lucas to join them.

Lucas hesitated before leaving. “That okay with you, Gunner?” He wasn’t asking permission, but letting Gunner know he’d stay if his brother needed him.

Gunner could tell this was the first time most of the male wolves had attended the ball. He remembered the first one he’d attended—and the lecture he’d received from both his father and Hayden. Thanks to all the sex demons and pixies attending, pheromones were thick in the air. It didn’t take much to make a wolf lose control. “Yeah. Just make sure you stay out of trouble.”

Lucas rolled his eyes, but promised to stay safe.

Gunner smiled at the memories of the holiday balls he’d attended as a young wolf. Fighting and fucking were two of the best things to happen. Because he’d never found his mate. But then, he hadn’t been looking for one, wouldn’t have known what do to with her if he had found her. Wolves were not easy mates. They were intense, relentless. Hunters of the wild. He fingered the scar on his face again. With the demons still riding his back, Gunner would make an even more hellicous mate now. But, he knew deep in his soul, if he ever found his mate, he would never let her go.

Damn it, what was in the air tonight? That was the second time he’d sounded like a lovesick pup.

Love is in the air, wolf, and it’s time you experienced it for yourself.

Gunner blinked and could have sworn he saw more red twinkles of light out of the corner of his eye before his vision cleared. Suddenly, a sharp pain ripped through his chest. Something broke free and for the first time in months, he felt his wolf.

“Hey man, you okay?”

Gunner felt himself sway and Lucas’ voice sounded far away, as if it was coming from inside a long tunnel.

“Bro.” Lucas caught him as he started to fall.

A rage of need, so unexpected, so strong that it made him forget everything else jolted through him. Gunner inhaled slowly, his fists clenching and unclenching. Nothing in his life prepared him for this moment.

Mate,
his wolf growled from inside him.
Mate here.

“Well, look who showed up this year.”

Autumn Covington rolled her eyes at the snippy remark made by the blonde headed pixie standing by mahogany bar tucked away in the corner of the large room. Her cousin Trixie. She was flanked by two other pixies of the same small statue and blonde tinted hair.

Autumn picked up a flute of champagne from the display on the bar more for something to do with her hands than wanting to taste the bubbly liquid. Of course, what she really wanted to do was wave her hand and see if she could make Trixie disappear.

Her cousin didn’t like her very much because Autumn wasn’t a pure pixie. Her mother had fallen head over heels in love with a human man when she’d gone away to college. Thanks to that union, Autumn was a mix of pixie, human, and much diluted witch. Hence, her doubt if she could actually make anyone disappear. The witch was courtesy of her father’s father’s mother. Autumn was just a whirlpool of supernatural DNA and pixies were somewhat prejudice. Plus, Autumn looked nothing like a pixie should—she was taller than the average pixie and had inherited the curvy gene from her father’s human side of the family.

“I thought you were too good for these parties.” Trixie cast her a snooty glance before continuing. “Didn’t you call them a meat market for bimbos?”

Autumn refused to be drawn into an argument. She’d never tried to hide her disdain for the annual event. The Holiday Ball was simply an excuse for supernaturals to go wild and succumb to their baser instincts.

Women—mostly witches—were put on display by their covens in front of a bunch of horny wolves in the hopes of making a fated match. It was a little less obvious than from days gone by when the witches were shackled and dragged to an auction block once a year. Now they were enticed inside with champagne and canopies but still paraded around, this time in skintight dresses and diamond necklaces.

Oh, they said the Holiday Ball was open to all single supernaturals, but everyone knew the real reason for the ball—stirring up the mating heat in wolves. Not that the other supernaturals didn’t take full advantage. Some, like the incubi who had approached her earlier in the evening, wanted to soak up the sexual energy filling the air. Or create a little of their own.

Autumn had avoided this annual event in the past, using school or work as an excuse. This year, she’d had no choice but to attend. The pack hosting the party had hired her company to provide ‘support’ for the party. Autumn was a peace pixie and worked in the same capacity as a mediator would in the human world. Just being in the same room with her usually dulled any aggressive behavior. Apparently, last year’s ball had resulted in several challenges being issued. That was something this year’s alpha hoped to avoid. Thus, the room was scattered with others like Autumn.

“I’m working, Trixie. That’s why I’m here.”

“Of course you are cousin. Cause we all know no one, especially a wolf, would want a fat thing like you.”

Autumn’s hand tightened on the glass in her hand, refusing to respond to the other woman’s jabbing comment. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to be small and blonde like her cousin for just one day. But what the other woman said was true. Autumn was the plumpest pixie around. Even though she stood five-foot-five in her bare feet—several inches over the tallest pixie—her figure was round and curvy. Large, melon sized breasts, generous hips, and thick thighs.