Dark Moon Gathering. Alison Paige

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СКАЧАТЬ a mate or one will take you, and the rest of us with you. Heaven help us if a Purist sets his sights on you.”

      My stomach knotted at the thought. My dad was a modern werewolf, believing in women’s rights, partnership with his mate and a kind of democracy within the pack. Purists believed wolves like my dad would destroy our species by allowing women too free a hand and slowing down birthrates by giving them a choice in the matter. To call them chauvinists would be an insult to chauvinists.

      “I won’t let that happen, Mom,” I said, looking her in the eye. “Promise.”

      She smiled, but her lips trembled trying to hold it. She was scared and that scared me. I turned away, pretending that placing napkin dispensers required my full attention.

      Mom had good reason to be scared. Wolves mate for life. But Purists chose to forgo the pesky limitations of a life mate and enforced pack polygamy. One of the first things a Purist would do, after fucking me, was stake his claim on every female in the pack, married or not—including my mother. To a Purist every pack member belonged to him and should carry his scent. He’d screw all the females and banish any males he saw as a threat.

      Some women chose that lifestyle—at least that’s what they’d say if you asked. But usually they were seduced into it. They actually believed the guy when he told them they were special. Never mind that the Purist male says that to all the females in his pack. By the time they figure out the lie, it’s too late.

      “I’m nobody’s possession and I’m certainly not gullible enough to believe a Purist’s line of bull,” I said. “No guy’s that good-looking or charming.”

      The cowbell over the front door rang and Mom and I both looked. But I could already smell it was Anthony. The scent of fresh air, forest and wild hay swirled through the diner before him like an outstretched hand. My heart skipped, my body warmed with memories of last night and so many other nights we’d spent together over the past six months.

      “Hello, Mattie.” His voice vibrated through my chest and straight on down to lower regions that went all warm and moist at the sound.

      Okay. Problem. I’d accidentally on purpose forgotten to mention to Mom that I’d been seeing Anthony since the day after Donny’s funeral. Why? Two reasons. One, I was worried she’d remember him, go ape-shit, and forbid me to see him. And two, I was afraid he’d charm her into not remembering him, go ape-shit, and nag me to marry him. You see? A no-win situation. Trust me.

      So I played dumb. “Hi. Welcome to Banebridge Pop & Pup Diner. Have a seat anywhere and I’ll be right with you.”

      He opened his mouth like he’d say something, but read my narrow-eyed expression and changed his mind. Good boy. He went to the side wall lined with tall windows and red cushioned booths without a word and slid into the fourth booth from the front.

      I put the last napkin holder on the counter and noticed Mom waving at me like she was landing a plane. I went the long way around so I could pass near to her. “What?”

      “You know him? Smells familiar.”

      I glanced at Anthony sitting with his back to us and shook my head. But it was hard lying to the woman who taught me how to sneak tampons into the bathroom so the sixth grade boys wouldn’t know. “I, ah, I don’t know. Maybe.”

      “I think he’s alpha. Cute, too.” Her brows sprang up to her hairline and her voice slid higher at the end like she was asking a question.

      I flicked my gaze back to him. “Cute’s the last thing on my list for potential mates,” I said and turned the bend at the end of the counter. Okay, maybe not the last thing, but when it came to Anthony Ricci, cute was about the only thing on my list he matched.

      I couldn’t help a quick glance in the mirror that covered the top half of the back wall. I was a woman after all and checking hair and makeup before speaking to a good-looking man was like breathing.

      I’d forgotten I’d pulled my hair into a ponytail and cringed when I saw the look of an athletic twelve–yea- old staring back at me. For half a heartbeat I considered yanking the elastic band out and letting my hair fall loose past my shoulders. But health codes and the fact he’d already seen me this way changed my mind. Instead, I pulled a few more of the lighter blond strands loose from my ponytail of caramel hair, and smoothed them in thin lines to frame my face. At least this way it looked like a style rather then the result of a bad scare.

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