11. Any Mate Will Do

11

Any Mate Will Do

FLOR

I t was all I could do not to jump up and run outside when the morning of the full moon arrived. I was so worked up, my insides felt like I had a cricket jumping around in my belly. I'd never had a birthday party, though I'd read about them.

But today felt bigger than a birthday. Bigger and a little scarier.

The morning meal had been oddly tense, Patrick and the other senior Enforcers who ate with us muttering to each other about a death a few nights before in the unranked housing. A choking death, which was unusual. I'd never heard of a shifter choking to death. This one had been a low-level Enforcer himself, though from Patrick's muttered comments, not one who had deserved his position.

Vanessa and Clara had come to sit with us, staying even more quiet than usual, though Clara had glared at me throughout the meal, until Patrick asked her to leave.

At the end of the meal, Vanessa had wished me luck. Well, she'd actually said, "I'd wish you luck, but there's no way Aunt Mags would let you lose today, so you won't need it."

I'd seen Vanessa sparring over the past weeks, and I nodded. "You don't need luck either. You're a better fighter than most of the ranked shifters at Southern. You'll get your rank back. Heck, I don't know why you're not an Enforcer."

"You don't?" She let out a humorless laugh. "You're sweet, aren't you? I see why Glen likes you." She ruined it then, of course. "But don't compare me to your trash pack again, Florida."

Glen and Finnick hadn't made it to the table for the first time since we'd arrived. Brand—who was still sleeping outside my bedroom door—had walked me to the dining room door before excusing himself, making me promise to stick close to another Enforcer or Margarette until he saw me again.

Of course I was going to stick close. Margarette was escorting me to my first fight at Northern. Well, first sparring match. Supposedly, we weren't going to use weapons, not even steak knives. My blood hummed with excitement anyway. I'd been actually humming, too—some pretty song I never remembered learning, but it kept me more relaxed than I would have been otherwise.

"Finally ready to spar, Flor?" Margarette's smile was strained and her eyes a bit dull as she met me at the door of the breakfast room, dressed in her black combat gear. She'd been with Bradley almost constantly for the past two weeks, and I'd hoped she could come out today, though I hadn't expected her to. Patrick had confided that he'd taken a turn for the worse, and the doctors were out of ideas.

I returned Margarette's effort with a warm smile of my own, nodding at her outfit, which matched my newer clothing, a set made just for me that had shown up in my room the evening before. "We're twins."

"I hope you don't mind. I wanted you to look your best today, and feel comfortable."

I flexed my arm, loving how the fabric moved and felt. The areas over my breasts and abdomen were reinforced, making it look a bit like a superhero costume. There were clever Velcro closures on the sleeves and down the front of the top, which I assumed was in case I shifted, not that I was in any danger of that. I still hadn't felt even the first stirrings of my wolf wanting to come out. But tonight was the full moon; anything was possible.

I smiled at the woman who'd made this all happen for me. "They're my favorite clothes ever. Thank you."

"You're more than welcome." The pride and affection in her gaze felt motherly. Not that I'd ever had that. But it was what I'd always longed for from my own mother.

What would she have been like, if she hadn't been driven crazy by… I shook the thought away. My life at Southern had no place here. Not today, anyway.

"I knew you'd look great in black," Margarette said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. It was growing faster than usual, hanging down around my neck at an awkward length. "It's gorgeous with that red hair. Are you looking forward to showing off your skills today?"

"Heck, yes." It felt surreal. After almost twenty years of living with no rank, of being at the bottom of the pack, my rank would be decided today. I would finally know where I stood.

Well, if I passed Sergeant's skills assessment. But the guys had all assured me I had more than proved myself over the past weeks.

Of course, I hadn't made many new friends in the Lodge—not ranked ones, in any case. Clara had made sure of that, keeping me on the outside of any circle of females I tried to approach.

At least the unranked shifters had begun to trust me a little. A few of the women had even taken to bringing me water and snacks during my training breaks.

The ranking structure was still confusing to me. I'd noticed that there were plenty of ranked females in the pack, but none of them besides Margarette were Enforcers. When I'd seen some of the unranked women fight, and even the ranked ones, it had seemed odd. A few of them had exceptional skills, and some unranked women were better fighters than the lower-level Enforcers, even if they weren't as strong. Strength seemed to be the way to become an Enforcer here. It sucked, but made sense.

The unranked women were kind and had answered some of my questions about what to expect. One had mentioned in passing that she was testing along with me tonight, and she'd seemed excited and hopeful. But mostly the unranked women came off as either weak, or incredibly shy, since none of them would meet my gaze.

I'd asked Glen and Brand about the leather chokers, but neither one of them knew what they stood for. Finally, one of the maids had shared that they weren't forced to wear them by the Alpha or Head Enforcer, unlike my tag. Apparently, it was just a way of signaling to the pack that they were satisfied with their position, and not planning to move up. She was careful to make sure I knew she'd chosen to wear the collar, and that none of the leadership had anything to do with it.

"I can take it off any time I like, Miss Flor," she'd said when I pressed her about it. "See?" She'd handed it to me right then, proving it. It was just a circle of leather with a brass clasp.

Though something about that bothered me. Why would she need to wear a leather choker so everyone knew? What if she changed her mind after a while, and wanted to spar again and move up? I'd asked her while she put the thing back on.

"I'm not a fighter, and I never will be. I want a mate who'll fight for me, and pups someday. Not to be"—she'd giggled—"a badass, like you."I hadn't been convinced. A cage was still a cage, even if the shifter had let themself be locked inside.

I shook the thought away as Margarette cleared her throat. "Who's going to be there to watch the sparring?"

At that moment, Vanessa exited her bedroom, dressed in clothes like ours. "Aunt Mags." She dipped her head to Margarette, but didn't speak to me as she passed us.

Margarette put a hand on my arm. "She hasn't been bothering you, has she? You know I'll make her behave appropriately."

"No, thanks. I can take care of myself."

"Of course you can." She squeezed my arm gently, the touch reassuring. "But I don't want you to have to. Neither does Glen. He loves that you're so strong, you know. It's a Hillier trait to be drawn only to the very strongest."

Ugh. Time to change the subject. "Glen said your sister was an Enforcer in your pack, like you. Is that true?"

Margarette sighed. "Linn was the strongest Enforcer anyone had seen. It was a shame she was born a female; she would have made an incredible Alpha."

I told her I was sorry for her loss, but asked more questions as we walked. "Yeah, so, why can't females be Alphas? Do the job requirements include peeing while standing or something?"

She laughed. "Linn used to complain about that, too! She had plans to go to the Mountain pack and ransack their library—they have the most extensive collection of pack histories—and find out if there was a way she could become Alpha." Margarette's eyes grew misty. "Then she met her true mate, Randolph. He was the most submissive male anyone had ever seen. When they mated… well, she didn't get weaker, but she never got stronger either." She shook her head. "What the moon was thinking, I don't know. If she'd had a stronger mate, she might have survived."

Her gaze slid to me, and I could practically hear the gears in her head turning. "You know, if you were an Alpha's mate, you'd probably be the strongest female shifter in history. You met my gaze the first time we met. You met Bradley's and didn't flinch."

I shivered, hearing the echoes of the Hunt in her words. "I was supposed to flinch?"

Margarette's eyes twinkled. "You don't even feel it, do you? The raw Alpha dominance my husband possesses can send young shifters to their knees. How you were marked as an unranked shifter is a travesty. You know, if you mated Glen, you wouldn't even have to fight?—"

I cut her off. "No. I'll earn my rank in the fighting ring."

"I understand. You want it to mean something." She nodded, then tucked my hair behind my ear, exposing my ear tag. "You know, you told me you were going to get that removed when we arrived. Will you let me remove it today, after your fight?"

"I don't know," I admitted. I'd told her I was planning to do just that when she'd asked about the tag the week before. "I think I'm keeping it."

"What?" She was horrified. "But you'll be ranked!"

"Sure. I never want to forget how wrong the ranking system was at Southern. How Callaway used it to keep a foot on all the necks he wanted to, whether or not they deserved it." I felt familiar anger rise up in me again. "You know, females there only earned rank through their mates. There was no way to be anything but trash without a male attached to you." I narrowed my eyes, thinking of what Vanessa had said. "It's a good thing you let the unranked fight their way up here. That anyone can be an Enforcer, if they prove they're strong enough. A damn good thing."

I glanced over at Margarette, who had gone slightly pale. "Why do you say that, Flor?"

I shrugged. "I'd never voluntarily stay with a pack that was like Southern."

Her lips twisted into a weirdly nervous smile. "Well, you have nothing to worry about. You'll make an incredible Enforcer, if that's what you want."

"Why aren't there any more women Enforcers here?" I asked bluntly, thinking of Vanessa.

"Not all women are fighters like us. Most of them are happy to settle down and bear pups… or try to."

"Are they, though?" I muttered, but she was already going on, explaining how ranking worked here.

I'd already learned quite a bit from the other shifters I'd trained with, though. Shifters were assigned their parents' rank when they were born, just like at Southern. Ranked shifters lived to the east of the training grounds in the buildings I'd seen in the blueprints, closer to the Lodge. The unranked lived farther away, across from the training grounds, in communal dorms called the compound that were practically in the forest.

Food allowances were the same for both sets, though ranked shifters had their pick of the best jobs, so they were able to afford more luxuries. Schooling was the same, too, and everyone got the same medical care, though mostly it was only the younger ones who needed much.

The unranked children also trained after school. When they were old enough to shift, they were given the chance to spar, and establish their own rank. All they had to do was defeat their opponent, a ranked shifter randomly assigned. If they didn't win, they could test again the next quarter as often as necessary until they won, or decided not to try again.

It all sounded so fair, but I wouldn't pass judgment until I'd seen the quarterly fights.

I tried to tune back into whatever Margarette was saying."...and since most shifter females desire mates with higher ranks—to help themselves and any future children gain status—the males' ranks are weighted slightly higher than females."

What the fuck? Having a dick earned you extra points here, too? No one had mentioned that to me. I had to bite my lip to keep from sharing my disapproval. Margarette was so strong; surely she had to see how stupid it was to rank males over females for no more reason than a handful of flesh.

My thoughts flitted to Brand. Well, maybe two handfuls.

I had to say something. This wasn't the moment, though. "Where are the guys?" I asked as we finally headed out to the back exit.

"Brand is helping set up for the fights. Finnick and Glen are checking on the pack boundaries today with a group of our senior Enforcers," she replied. "They didn't want to go and miss your sparring, so I've asked Sergeant to have you go last."

"Something's wrong at the pack border?"

"There was a report of a small group of rogues passing by the northernmost border of our hunting grounds. Normally, if they stay outside our borders, we don't respond with force, but we've had too much activity recently to ignore it. Their attacks have been coordinated, unlike… Well, never mind. It's only about a two-hour run, so we'll see them later this morning." She linked her arm in mine as we walked. "I wanted to chat with you about Glen anyway."

Suddenly, her arm felt like a trap. "Sure. But first, what did the new doctors say?" Medical specialists had arrived from the Eastern pack's shifter hospital two days before, since Northern didn't have their own specialists in silver poisoning.

"Nothing good. They… They don't know if he'll ever fully recover."

"I'm so sorry." My heart ached for her. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Yes, actually." Her arm tightened on mine. "I would like for you to open your mind, your heart, to the mating bond that exists between you and my son."

Ugh. This was the most direct she'd been yet, even though I'd shut her down every time she'd tried to force the issue. Margarette could teach a donkey how to be stubborn. "Open my mind? You mean, you want me to mate with Glen."

"Well, of course I do." She sighed, like I was being a brat. "Why do you sound angry? This is an honor, Flor. He's as close to royalty as a shifter can be."

"Well, I figured out the Alpha thing," I said, trying not to let my rage seep into my tone. "That if Glen wants to ascend to Alpha, he has to have a mate."

"Yes," she said baldly, pulling me to a stop in the middle of the hall. "But it's not for selfish reasons. My husband may not recover. With the ever-present threat of Russian shifters, rogues, and now the trouble at Southern, we need an Alpha who can help plan our defense. Glen is ready; he's been trained. The Council is waiting on word that Bradley is stepping down, and they'll test Glen and promote him."

I fought back my anger, ignoring the more devastating emotion of disappointment that swirled in my gut alongside it. "Is that why you brought me here, Margarette? Why you've been so nice?"

She stepped back, her eyes widening. "Flor, no. I wanted you for Glen, of course. Mother Moon, you're everything I could've dreamed of for a daughter-in-law. Strong and resilient, quick, smart?—"

"I haven't even finished ninth grade," I interrupted.

"No one needs to know that," she replied smoothly.

"I'm unranked."

"Not once you're Glen's mate." Her lips twisted when I released the growl that had been building. "Not after today's sparring either, Flor. Don't worry, I know you want to earn it."

I took a deep, measured breath, shocked that I'd need the techniques Del had taught me for battle here, with the woman I'd hoped was a friend. "I don't have the manners or the training to be an Alpha's mate. It's apparent to the casual observer?—"

"I can help you, even stand in for you until you do learn," she interrupted again, smiling as if I'd agreed. "You can keep training, go to school. Be an Enforcer. Once you're ready, you can step into my shoes."

I glanced at her shoes, the red combat boots she loved. They were fancy, glossy and showy. Perfect for the sort of statement an Alpha Mate needed to make. And the thought of trying to fill those shoes made me want to puke.

"I don't want to mate, Margarette, ever . You know this."

"But would you do it for the good of the pack? For me?" she pleaded, a hard, desperate note in her voice.

"Sounds like you had this idea from the get-go. That's why you gave me all the clothes and all that good food. Were you just working me around to sayin' yes to something I already told you I wasn't gonna do?"

She sputtered for a few seconds. "We didn't feed you and clothe you because you were Glen's mate—of course not. But if you aren't going to mate him…" There was something desperate in her gaze.

"Oh," I whispered, finally understanding. "He doesn't have to have a true mate. He just has to have a mate, any mate."

Margarette's lips went tight, but she nodded sharply. "You don't understand. Bradley… Bradley may die. When he goes, I will, too."

Suddenly, I got it. "You're true mates. You can't live without him."

"I wouldn't want to," she confessed. " Please understand, Flor. I want my son to have what would make him happiest, and that's you. But if you won't, if there's no hope, then happiness comes second to strengthening the pack."

I pushed down the fury building inside me, not certain if it was from her pressuring me, or the thought of Glen with some other female, mated to some woman like that bitch Clara, touching her… My gums prickled, as if sharp teeth were trying to emerge.

"That's why all those women run after him, even though they know he's not their true mate, right?"

One perfectly tweezed eyebrow flew up. "Exactly. He won't ever be as happy, or as powerful, but we don't have time for perfect right now, Flor. Our pack is in crisis. I have to steer us through." Her lips dipped into a pretty frown. "We saved you. I had hoped you would care enough about Glen and me and… and Bradley to save us now."

With that, she walked through the door to the training grounds. I followed, my head buzzing, pounding like I'd fallen face first into a beehive.

Strings. There were strings attached to her love, to her "saving" me. Of course there were. I had hoped…

Hope. There it was again, kicking me in the teeth as always.