Called Me Used Good? Damn Cheating Alpha Go to Hell with Your Mistress novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Registry Steps
Warrick names his mistress as Luna in front of the whole pack and calls Roxanne used goods; she steps out, and her blood lights the stone silver.
Three hundred wolves stood in the stone registry hall to watch Alpha Warrick Dunmoor make me his Luna.
He held my hand the whole way up the stone steps.
He smiled for every camera phone in the room.
I smiled back, because four years of practice had taught me how.
At the door that morning Vera had pressed a warm paper cup into my hands.
"Drink," she'd said. "Your nerves are showing, Roxy. Your hands are doing the thing."
Vera had been my best friend since we were eight.
She made me this tea every morning, and I drank it, and it tasted like mint and old pennies.
I drank it all and handed her the cup, and she kissed my cheek and went to find her seat.
Then Warrick had held out his palm for the paper in my other hand.
It was my mother's birth blessing, the only thing of hers I owned.
The registrar asked every bride to bring one.
Warrick folded it without looking and slid it into his coat.
"I'll keep it safe," he said. "Don't be nervous, Roxanne."
Now he stood beside me at the long stone table at the top of the hall.
The registrar was a tiny woman in gray with a silver needle.
She took my thumb and pricked it, and pressed it to the pale slab in front of her.
One red print. The stone went dull and gray under it, the way it always does.
"The Luna's blood is given," the registrar said. "Alpha, say her name before the pack."
Warrick let go of my hand.
It was the first time all day he had let go.
He turned to face the hall, and he did not smile at the cameras anymore.
"I can't say hers," he said.
The room went quiet in the middle of someone's cough.
"I will say it plainly, because you all deserve plain. Roxanne Wendell was mated once before me. She buried that mate. She has never once shifted. She came to this pack used, and I let that pass for four years."
"Warrick," I said.
"I will not put used goods in the Luna's chair." He said it loudly, so the back rows could hear. "The Moon wants someone clean, and I have found her."
He held out his hand toward the third row.
Vera stood up.
She was wearing a pale blue dress I had helped her pick out in March.
Her left hand was flat against her stomach.
She did not look at me at all.
Somebody in the crowd laughed. Somebody else said, "Oh, no."
Two hundred and ninety-nine faces looked at me, waiting to see what I would do.
I had a choice, and it was a plain one.
I could cry in front of them and let Nash walk me out the side door.
I could beg Warrick for the quiet room and the private talk he had always given me when I was upset.
Or I could do the one thing nobody expected from the widow who had never grown a wolf.
So I stepped out from behind the table and turned my back on the stone.
"Go to hell, Warrick," I said.
"Take her with you. You two have been going there together for three years."
A gasp went through the hall.
Vera finally looked at me then, and her face had gone white.
Warrick opened his mouth to answer.
Behind me, the registrar made a small, sharp sound.
I turned around, because everyone else was staring past me.
My thumbprint was still on the slab, and it was no longer red.
A thin silver light was crawling out from the print in every direction, along every vein of the old stone.
It ran to the edges of the table and over the carved names of every Luna the Bloodmoon Pack had ever had.
The hall lit up silver, and the cameras all clicked at once.
I looked at Warrick.
Alpha Warrick Dunmoor, who had been a heartbeat from the biggest day of his life, was standing completely still.
He wasn't surprised.
He knew exactly what that silver meant, and his face said he had never wanted anyone else to see it.
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