Forbidden Passion

Chapter 5- The Party

Ashton POV

I woke up the morning of the mate-finding ceremony feeling like crap. My mom had been regularly stopping by my room to knock on my door and announce the families that had arrived. I had been mildly interested to hear that the Fairchilde family was here. All of them. That meant Liz was here somewhere as well. I was curious to see her. She was pretty as a child, and I knew based on pictures she was gorgeous now that she was a mature teenager. Not that it would matter. The feeling of attraction would not be mutual if it was there at all. I did vaguely wonder if her wolf ever came to her, but then I sunk back into my usual despair and blocked out thoughts of anyone else.

My mind is both my refuge and my prison. I can be anything in my mind. I can have a normal face and amazing talents. I can seduce any attractive female and am a skilled lover. I am dashing and mysterious, valued and prized among females. Males envy me and females ogle me. Everything is perfect. In my mind.

Also in my mind is the constant nagging of reality telling me that I'll spend the rest of my life alone and depressed and no one and nothing can save me from that fate. Who cares if I have a good physique? Who cares if I'm well endowed? Who cares if I have a kind heart and compassion? My good qualities are wasted because everyone's first and last impression of me is based on my deformity.

Knock. Knock. Knock. A soft tapping on my door draws me out of my mental prison, and I fix my watery eyes on the door. I hadn't even realized I'd been crying.

"What?" I snapped, knowing darn well who was on the other side of the door.

"Son," came a soft, pained voice, "the seamstress will be here in an hour to fit you into your suit. Make sure you've showered and groomed before she arrives. I'm leaving you a tray of breakfast at your door." Her footsteps then retreated down the hall. I sighed and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. I did feel hungry. After my crazy nighttime workouts I was always hungry in the morning.

I opened my door and picked up the tray of breakfast. It looked really good. I brought it into my room and finished the entire plate before heading into the shower and grooming myself like my mom asked. I took special care to make sure my groin was clean, trimmed, and presentable. Maybe I'm being too optimistic, but if I meet my mate at this ceremony, and if she isn't put off by my appearance then I could actually be sleeping with a woman, my destined mate, in my bed tonight. The thought excited me, and my mind wandered, which was distracting as I tried to shave my face and comb my hair. Will she kiss me back? Let me hold her? Would we mate, which is customary for us wolves. Should I go on a run to vent my nerves and excitement? Nah. My optimism says to save it up.

I was able to get those nerves and excitement to relax back down to my usual stoic self just in time for the elderly seamstress to arrive with my mother. Dressed only in my boxers and undershirt, I gladly accepted the garments one by one and clothed myself in them carefully. My mother kept fussing about not wanting me in a wrinkled suit.

I complied with her demands without putting up a fuss, but I didn't have a good feeling about tonight the more I thought about it. I kept flip-flopping between feeling hope and feeling despair. My stomach was beginning to feel queasy as the day dragged on.

The seamstress checked all of the details on my suit to make sure it was tailored perfectly to accentuate the best parts of my body (minus one, obviously. I can't exactly go flaunting my reproductive organ, even though I consider it my best asset.), and then, giving a nod of approval, she departed, leaving my mother and me alone.

"Son, I know you're worried about tonight," she began, and I just snorted in response. "But I'm hoping it will be a magical night for you. You're a good person, and I just know that some lucky young lady will see that."

"What she'll see will be my horrifying face, not my winning personality hard-dipped in depression," I seethed sarcastically. "Why are you putting me through this? Do you just want me to get more depressed?"

"No! Of course not!" My mom gasped in horror. "I would never! I just want you to be happy, Ashton. That's all. Mates fill a missing part of you, and I want you to experience that. She's obviously not in our pack, so this is the traditional way of meeting a mate. It's the normal way, Ashton. Don't you long to be normal?"

It stung how she said it, but she wasn't wrong. The thing I longed for the most was to be treated normal.

"That being said, I, well, I, um, I..." she stuttered, trailing off awkwardly.

"What did you do?" I demanded suspiciously.

"It's nothing like that, Ashton. I asked that this be a masquerade party, that's all. Everyone here will be in masks, including you." She went over to my bed and reached into a bag, pulling out a half-mask similar to the Phantom of the Opera costume. It even looked like it was a high quality design. I kind of liked it, if I was going to be honest. I'd never seen most of these people before. They wouldn't know what the mask was really hiding.

"I just wanted to give you a chance to sweep a girl off her feet without her first impression of you being her fixated on your scars. You're a good person and a quality man. I'm sure your mate will see that," my mom approached me and extended the mask to me cautiously, but I grabbed her wrist and jerked her into my arms for a healing hug. I didn't get touched by anyone much. It felt good to hug her. She hugged me back, and when she stepped back she wiped away her tears and smiled at me.

"That's my precious boy. Your scars don't make you. You are defined by more than that attack," she patted my shoulder, handed me the mask, and took her leave.

I flipped the mask back and forth, looking at it closely. It was really nice, and it would probably hide everything except my drooping lip, which wouldn't look like a deformity under it. Finally feeling excited, I rushed into the bathroom and fastened the mask in place, tugging on the thin band in the back to tighten it into a perfect fit. I smoothed my shaggy hair down over my deformed ear and stepped back to face myself.

I actually looked good. Sexy even. My tailored suit had an old-fashioned look to it with a western-style black bow tie, a black fitted vest with a fancy paisley red handkerchief sticking out of the pocket, and perfectly fitted pants. I felt like I kind of needed a black cape or something to give me a really mysterious look, but apart from the dramatic, I looked really good. Hope once again bubbled up in me. If she is here, she will see me, fall for me, dance with me, maybe even go ahead and mate with me since masks can be kind of kinky, and then accept me after I show her my face.

It's all playing out in my mind, and I feel convinced that's exactly how it will all play out as I -for the first time ever- pull out my phone and snap a selfie. I finally have a profile picture for my social media, and I look really good.

Smiling, I changed my profile picture, already starting to get some reactions within a few seconds of posting, and head out of my room. Taking a deep breath, I walked down the hall trying to exude the confidence belonging to a son of the Alpha. I paused as I passed one of the guest rooms, smelling a very pleasant sweet scent. I looked at the number on the door, number 611, and committing it to heart, and excitedly pick up the pace. Could my mate be staying in that room? Something about that scent sure does have my head in the clouds already. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, and as I rounded the corned to the stairs, I slammed into someone running up them.

With a shriek, the girl lost her balance and was about to fall back down the stairs when I grabbed her and steadied her. She smelled nice, too, like warm vanilla spice. She was wearing a black lacy mask that hid her face, but I felt like she was very familiar.

"I am SO sorry!" She gasped. "Thank you for catching me!" She looked up at me, and I was looking into golden eyes that glowed in the black mask. She looked gorgeous. I took in a deep breath, hoping that Brevin would rise up and declare this beautiful lady my mate, but he didn't respond. Disappointed, I bowed slightly to her before moving on by her and heading down the stairs. She is only one of many girls here to contend for me. Someone smells good to me, and I'm going to find her.

"Okay then," I hear her mumble before continuing on her merry way.

I'm almost to the main hall, and anticipation is building in me as I see people gathered around everywhere. Everyone is wearing a mask of some sort, and I thank my mom in my heart for thinking this up for me. A small group of older adults are gathered in the commons area, talking amongst themselves.

"...and the masks were required for entry..."

"How strange. I've never heard of a mask to be used as an admission ticket. Have you?"

"It makes me wonder if they're hiding something. Luna Emily insisted to me that she wanted a unique party, but I didn't believe her."

"I did hear once that they have a son who is ugly as the Devil. I bet it's his mating ceremony, and they're trying to pawn him off on some poor she-wolf."

"If that's true it had better not be my daughter!"

I came to a dead stop to hear their conversation, and my heart sank. Deceit. That's all this is. I'm deceiving others. I'm deceiving myself. I will be the most hated wolf in the country at the end of tonight if I find my mate. My heart sinks, and I take a deep, sad breath, turning to head back up to my room when I caught that light floral scent on the air again.

It smells good, and I abandon my plan of spending the evening in my prison of a room and instead turn toward the main hall. Following my nose, I join some others filing into the room and take another deep breath. The smell is stronger, and it's calling to me. So this is what it is like! What a thrill! Who could she be? I look over the sea of masked faces, fighting the urge to start shoving people to the side who aren't her.

Scanning the room urgently, my eyes fall on a girl who is standing with some friends but has frozen in place. She has her head raised a bit and seems to be scanning the crowd anxiously. I hold my breath as her eyes finally lock on mine. I push past a few people and make my way toward her, the floral smell getting stronger until Brevin finally surfaces.

It's her! He yells in my head joyfully, and he and I say in unison to her, "Mate."

"Mate," she answered in a high, nasal voice.

I pushed people aside and approached her, inhaling her sweet scent as I drew closer. I went straight up to her, tilted her chin up, and planted a passionate kiss on her lips. My blood boiled at the touch. It was just like I hoped our first meeting would be. She looped her arms up around my neck and worked her fingers into my hair.

My mask! I thought with immediate terror. She could loosen the band and knock it off! I wasn't ready for that. Trying to act casual, I broke our heated kiss off and stepped back to examine her. She didn't find my action off-putting and instead did a little spin so I could get a good look at her.

She was in a baby pink dress that clung to her like a second skin. She had a wiry, lithe body with a small chest. Her long blond hair hung in soft waves down her bare back. Her dress had both a plunging back and a plunging front, showing quite a bit of her tanned skin. I suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to cover her up with a jacket and hide her away from the other men in the room.

She wore a glittery white mask with a tall feather attached to the side. Long, spidery eyelashes batted at me from behind the mask, which were obviously fake. I don't like fake eyelashes on a girl. They look silly, like her eyebrows fell down or something. Of course, I have my own insecurities. Maybe I can help her realize she doesn't need those or all that caky makeup she's got on her face once we're together for awhile. I can see that she is pretty. She'd look a lot better without all the different layers of makeup that didn't escape my supernatural eyesight. She looked like she had high cheekbones and a sharp nose from a distance, but up close I could see that it was makeup giving her that appearance. She actually had a heart-shaped face with soft features. Her real cheeks looked like sweet little apples, and her real nose had a little bump at the end of it that made me think she might be Russian. I liked her features under her makeup.

Likewise while I was observing her, I could see that she was observing me. Her eyes had trailed from my face to admiring my broad chest to boldly looking lower. She noticed the strain in my pants and looked back up at me with a smile of delight.

"Aren't you a hottie? And well-built, too."

"Ahem. Would you care to dance," I asked, offering my hand to her like a gentleman should. She giggled and accepted my hand, letting me guide her to the dance floor. She cast a smirk back at the other girls she had been standing with and stepped willingly into my arms.

This was the first time I had ever held a woman in a romantic way. I was glad I was experiencing this with my mate. My brother was known for his womanizing ways, but he also didn't view women as anything more than a chance at some fleeting pleasure. I saw a woman as more than that: companionship, comfort, an equal partner, somebody I didn't have to pretend for...

Suddenly my mask felt very heavy on my face. Was I misleading her? I had never seen her before, and based on her response to me, she had never seen me or she wouldn't be acting so happy. I did and didn't want to show her what I really look like. I mean, I want to finally have the acceptance of another being, especially one of the opposite s*x, but I also am terrified that it will go terribly wrong.

The music changed from the waddling slow dance that had her willingly plastered against my body, clinging to me with her thin little arms, to an upbeat tempo. She pushed away from me, gave me a playful grin, turned around and started grinding against me.

It felt so good. So, SO good. My body felt like it was lit on fire, and desire was the flame licking at every nerve. My p***s strained against my pants and against her body, which was beating into me with the crazy rhythm of the song. A faint realization that she is too good at this for this to be her first time grinding with a guy made me instantly wild with jealousy and consumed with the desire to possess her.

Falling into step with her, I grabbed her hips and pulsed against her in rhythm to the music. I gritted my teeth as I felt myself being pushed toward the brink with all the stimulation happening. The music went back to classical, much to my relief, for the next song.

My mate spun around to face me and wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her body into me alluringly.

"So what is my tall, dark, and handsome's name?"

"Ashton. What about my pretty little blonde?" I felt cheesy asking it, but I'd do anything to please my mate.

"Sophie," she giggled again. She giggled a lot, I thought.

"Where are you from, Sophie?"

"My daddy's the Alpha of the Bayou pack," she drawled. "We're from Louisiana."

"Wow. You guys drove a long way. By the way, are you the one staying in room 611?" I asked.

"Yep! I'm that girl!" She answered shrilly. Other couples around us looked at her in annoyance and moved away. I turned her body a bit, trying to use mine to shield her. Maybe I should stop asking questions. This didn't seem to be the place.

I led her in the traditional slow-dance wobble, but I was quite a bit taller than her and took the time to look around the room at other couples. My immature brother was off to the side drinking a glass of champagne with some she-wolf. I could smell the vampire in the room and spotted Brandon with his wife, Victoria, canoodling on the dance floor. When they did it, it looked natural and sweet. I want to help Sophie get like that with me. The overly s****l dance we just had didn't make me feel comfortable in front of other men. I didn't want anyone to see her as an object for their taking based on how she acted with me.

I pulled her tighter against me and continued to survey the room as we wobbled around to face another direction. I noticed the girl I had bumped into earlier in the red and black dress. She was holding her full dress up like a real ballroom dancer and was keeping a healthy distance between her and her partner. He seemed to respect that and twirled her around elegantly. She had long copper hair flowing over her shoulders in natural curls. They looked beautiful against her dress, which was deep red underneath with black lace draped over the top.

I should suggest to Sophie something like that next time we have a dance. She would look really pretty in that style, and I wouldn't have to worry about men ogling my mate.

When the song ended, I watched the red-clad girl curtsy to her partner and leave the room. As the next song began, I gave Sophie a little spin out and away from me and offered her my arm. She took it, and I led her out to the balcony, filled with anticipation.