I Was Dumped by Four Mate Candidates Chapter 06

I Was Dumped by Four Mate Candidates Chapter 06

Three days later.

The crystal chandeliers in New Moon Hall lit up layer by layer. Moonlight spilled through the vaulted stained-glass windows. Crescent-shaped patterns splashed across the floor.

My assistant Corbin said, “Sloane. The Beta from the Thunderbird Pack sent a greeting letter. And several pack Alphas are asking to attend.”

She paused. Her expression turned odd. “Also. Some people in the pack are already placing bets on whether the Alpha’s throwing a fated-mate declaration rite for you.”

I didn’t look up. “They’re not that far off.”

Corbin’s eyes went huge.

I laughed at her face. “Don’t tell anyone yet.”

She nodded fast. She was about to continue when footsteps echoed from the main hall entrance.

I turned. Soren.

He was here for the Silvermoon Pack’s quarterly meeting. Second floor of New Moon Hall.

Two council aides trailed behind him. His eyes were as gentle as ever. Just not for me anymore.

He stopped when he saw me.

“Sloane.” He sent his aides up ahead. Walked toward me. “What are you doing here?”

I almost laughed.

That was the phrase I’d heard the most these past two days. “What are you doing here?” Like every place I showed up automatically meant I was up to something.

“Working.” I kept it short.

Soren’s gaze swept the room. Landed on the center wall. The massive Silvermoon crest and the Thunderbird Pack’s thunderbird emblem. Side by side.

He obviously saw the name “Lucian Stormcrest.” He just didn’t ask immediately.

“Private matters?” He already knew the answer.

“Territory alliance.” I corrected him. “Also announcing some private matters. On the side.”

Soren had always been the best at hiding his feelings. When we were pups, I’d hide his prized copies of the ancient werewolf codes. He’d find them and just tap my forehead, smiling. “Done playing?”

But now—that brief hesitation didn’t escape me.

“Do you need help?” he asked.

“No.” Fast answer. “Keep busy with your council work.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, “About the other night. The Howling Terrace…”

“What about it?” I looked up. “Did you come to do a post-game breakdown of the pheromone drama for somebody?”

He looked at me. Let out a soft sigh. “Sloane. Every word out of your mouth these days is just—barbed.”

“You all decided I was the villain who’d weaponize her pheromones against the weak. Now you want me to be the sweet, moonlit saint?”

I pressed my lips into a thin smile. “Soren. Five years gone, and your expectations of me are still awfully high.”

He went silent. Rare for him.

Back then, Soren was the best at soothing me when I was angry. He could calm everyone down. Always seemed the fairest. But a lot of times, the fairest people are the best at pretending nothing happened.

“That’s not what I meant,” he finally said.

“Then what exactly do you want?”

Soren looked at me. His eyes fell to the thin diamond band on my ring finger. His brow creased slightly.

“Did you find your mate somewhere else?”

“Asking that now, don’t you think it’s a little late?”

I was done standing around talking to him. I turned and walked toward the dessert station.

I’d personally designed the banquet menu. Smoked venison with juniper sauce. Honey-glazed root celery. Charred brussels sprouts. Three types of mead paired with different meats.

Soren stood a few paces behind me. Didn’t leave.

“Sloane.” He finally spoke again. Very quiet. “That ring on your finger. When did you start wearing it?”

I glanced down at the thin diamond band.

Lucian’s anniversary gift from last year. Inside the band was a small line engraved in common tongue.

L.S. to S.S.—under every moon.

“A long time ago,” I said.

Soren stood there behind me in silence. Ten-something seconds. Then he turned and walked away. His eyes never looked at me again.