11. Truth Over Death

Selene Hilal wasn’t impressed by the first time walking into the French ballroom of the hotel she bought fifty years ago, and she certainly wasn’t impressed the umpteenth time.
The Omega she was currently fucking didn’t impress her, either. Selene was the one to initiate the quickie in the large bathroom. The male was too lost in bliss to pick up on his Luna’s own subpar performance. He wasn’t in heat, so what use was he but to distract her from her anger?
At that damn Kiran Cyrus, just in general for his eternal cockiness, but also for his possible involvement in a murder of one of her Omegas, and his sway over Seff Bastan. She was angry at Seff herself and she was angry at fate. Fuck fate. Why did it screw everything over in the blink of an eye?
Her Omega licked her sensitive spot and it brought her back from her thoughts. She gasped and moaned, tugging on a fistful of his white hair, eliciting his own pleasured growl. When he pulled back, his eyes still flicked to the clock behind her. Sense returned to him. “Shouldn’t we get going?”
When Selene sobered from the slap of reality, it did not bode well for her temper. The Omega flinched back from her and ducked his head in submissive. She huffed and slipped back into her sheer lace midnight-blue dress. Like her slips, it left very little to the imagination and would certainly steal the show of the gala. No other wolf, no matter the place on the hierarchy, was permitted to wear her color. If they somehow did, it would be stained red with their blood.
Buffet tables were set along the walls serving a myriad of finger food, a DJ played decent music, and the massive chandelier overhead dazzled with gold and crystals. The artificial candles sparkled off gowns and bounced off snow-white hair.
Selene weaved through the crowd, losing her Omega to it, only for him to be replaced by her Delta, Lona Mahsa. She was able to keep pace easily, having been Selene’s loyal right-hand for the past ten years. The Luna did not have, nor want, friends, but if she was ever to claim one, it would be Lona.
“Find Kiran,” Selene instructed briskly, “and Seff Bastan. Do not let either of them out of your sight. And do not let that knothead get her alone.”
“Of course, Luna.” The lovely Delta vanished.
The Alphas were supposed to dance with each of their Chosen Omegas, giving them a first chance to touch and scent their new masters up close. Selene was not wholly excited about any of them—except Seff Bastan. But Kiran shared that sentiment.
In a sea of completely identical features, it was hard to pick her out from the other Magnolias, even if there were only twenty. Odd. There should have been twenty-two. But Selene still found her—because Kiran found her first.
He loomed over her, lifting her hand to his lips to brush them over her knuckles. Already trying to charm her, that bastard, even if she looked caught between shrinking into herself and wanted to snap at his face. All wolves had teeth, even if they didn’t want to use them.
“You look…ravishing,” Kiran purred at her, gaze roaming her body. Selene preferred Omegas with wide hips and large breasts; Seff lacked both. But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting Seff out of Kiran’s harem and into Selene’s. “Dance with me.”
Wolves of all packs hurried to part to form a path for Selene directly to them. Seff noticed her approach first and pulled her hand from Kiran’s. Before another move could be made, Seff’s apparent friend, one who did fit Selene’s type, sidestepped in front of Kiran. “Dance with me, my lord.”
Kiran was quick to turn his scowl into a charming grin. It was clear his attention was forced away from Seff and he did not like it one bit. But he dipped his head and drew the female onto the dance floor. Selene took her chance.
“Welcome to Moonset,” the Luna greeted, smoothly taking a flute of wine from a passing-by tray and offering it to her. “Seff Bastan, official consort of the Sun pack.” It was a brilliant act, not sounding bitter at all.
Seff played her own emotions well. She accepted the wine and dipped her head with a grateful smile. Though small and drawn by anxiety, it was a jolt to Selene’s heart. What was that? An emotion? A spark of electricity to the dead organ in her chest?
“Thank you. It’s beautiful.”
“You look beautiful,” Selene reciprocated. Damn herself, she sounded like a bashful teenager! But she did—the young wolf bared plenty of smooth, creamy skin with the plunging neckline and double-slit red dress. And out of all three packs, no one else had chosen the deep-red satin. Her white hair was unbound and fell to the middle of her back, though pieces were pulled from her temples into a clip shaped like a magnolia flower. It was any Magnolia’s last claim to that title; they would all wear the mark of the Sun or Moon from tonight on.
Seff’s eyes were no more brilliant than any other, but to Selene they seemed greener than any summer orchard, certainly not any of Kiran’s, her eyelids shimmering gold and glitter. The lines of her face were nothing short of lovely. And her lips, painted a regretful yet still complimenting nude color…lush.
All familiar, and yet just a little off.
Seff blushed, too, and Selene felt a puff of pride when the wolf didn’t know where to look, opting to stare back. “Thank you,” she said softly, sipping from her glass. Selene watched the smooth column of her throat swallow the sour drink.
“Who are your parents?” the Luna asked, the leash of her control slipping her fingers just a fraction.
“My parents? They’re…they are dead.”
Selene thought of her dead Omega, leaving behind their shared pup, and felt a shred of pity. But she valued truth over death. “What is your mother’s last name?”
Seff tilted her head, groomed brows knitting. “Why…?”
Behind them, the song ended and another began. It was a traditional partner-switching waltz. And Kiran was there to pull Seff into it, her wine glass falling and shattering on the marble.