Prologue

Twenty-three years ago, they had found her. An infant, wrapped in a pale pink blanket with the name Lyric embroidered on a corner, on the snow between the mutilated bodies of her parents. The Elders put Lyla in charge of caring for the poor orphan, saying that she could tell the girl she was her sister. Lyla's mate had passed years before and she was childless. It was a perfect fit.

Chapter One "The Ritual"

Lyric peered around the trunk of a large tree at the several figures walking up the narrow path that led to her Village. They were all clad in dark, semi-formal clothing, but that was all she could make out from her place on the hill. She could, however, catch their scent when the wind blew just right and she knew that they were like her. Rather, they were like the others in her Pack. No one was like her. She was a misfit, even in the werewolf world.

"Jesus, here you are," a voice said and she spun around. "Quit spying on the Alpha and his family. Lyla's expecting you back at the house."

"I already told her that there's no point in me taking part in the damn Ritual tonight," she groaned, rolling her eyes. "He's not going to pick me, Bryan."

"Lyric," Bryan sighed, shoulders slumping. "C'mon, you're twenty-three and still aren't mated to anyone."

"As if you have any room to talk," she growled. "You're a year older and aren't mated either."

"Well, I haven't met the right girl yet," he shrugged. "Now, come on. Lyla will kill me if I don't get you back in time to get ready."

"Bryan," she whined.

"Nope," he said with a firm tone and a shake of his head. "Let's go."

"What if I refuse?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Lyla told me to use force if I had to," Bryan said.

"You wouldn't freaking dare," she growled.

"I will if I have to. Lyric, please don't make this impossible," he sighed.

She glared at him for a moment before softening her stance and letting out a deep sigh. Her sister wouldn't let her worm her way out of this. No way in hell. It was an important deal. Bryan smiled and extended his hand. Lyric walked by him, slapping at his hand, and started making the walk back to her small home.

"My God, finally!" Lyla all but screamed when Lyric walked in. "You are so late. I have the generator on so you can get a shower. No soaps with perfume. Light deodorant. You know the drill. We've gone over it a million times. I set your outfit on the bed. You've got no more than twenty minutes to get your ass to the Clearing."

"Twenty minutes!" she scoffed. "Lyla, it takes that long for me to just rinse my hair!"

"If you'd come with Bryan right away instead of putting up a fight and being your stubborn self, you'd have twice that time to get ready. Now, quit wasting time and get moving."

With an eye roll, Lyric sulked off to their tiny bathroom, and got into the small stand up shower. She hurried to get washed, pissed that she hardly had enough time for the water to even get warm, and rushed to comb the tangles out of her wet hair once she hopped out. A low groan left her when she saw the outfit laid out on her bed.

"Oh, Lyla, no," she whispered.

The plain white dress had seen better days, even with the adjustments Lyla had made, and Lyric found herself hating it. She would have preferred a black dress or something in purple, but the rules of their Mating Ritual clearly stated that all eligible females were to wear white—to symbolize their purity. The purity aspect made her snort to herself. Out of the whole Pack, she was maybe the only one of Mating age who hadn't lost her virginity to their Alpha-son, Liam. Liam had made it his life's mission to put as many notches in his belt as he could. Even with Lyric's oddity, he had made every pursuit possible.

She pulled the dress over her head, really tugging at the hem to make it cover her thighs, and slipped on a pair of simple white strap flats. One quick look at herself—and one more tug at the dress—and she was on her way to the Clearing. Lyric's nerves got more and more wild with every step towards her destination. Just as the flickering light from the bonfire and the sounds of chatter hit her senses, she scurried behind a tree so she could calm herself and regain control. Luckily, she managed to catch herself before she had actually started to change and it didn't take all too long to settle herself—and her wolf—down. After one last shaky breath, she deemed herself in full control, and pushed away from the tree trunk.

"Ah, there you are," a silky voice purred and she was shoved back against the tree.

"Leave me alone, Liam," she grumbled, trying to push by the Alpha-son.

"Hey now," he chuckled, gently shoving her back. "Are you going to treat the only male in this Pack who will give you the time of day so rudely?"

"Go to hell!" she snapped, pushing much harder this time in her attempt to get by.

"Lyric," he snarled in a strangely sweet tone, "stop it." This time he shoved her back with such force that the back of her head collided with the tree trunk and she cried out. "Why can't you see that I'm the only guy who will ever want you? I mean, why are you even bothering with the Ritual? You really think any respectable Alpha-son would pick a freak like you? I wouldn't. I would consider keeping you around as a . . . well, a side bitch," he smirked, running a hand down her side. His blue eyes wandered over her body, seeing through the dress, and it made her skin crawl.

His touch filled her with disgust and rage and her control slipped. It was so sudden that none of her usual warning signs were present. Lyric put one hand—tipped with the start of wolf-like nails—to his chest and pushed with all of her power. Like any werewolf, she had all the perks: heightened senses and some very impressive strength. The Alpha-son stumbled back, blue eyes going wide with shock and then anger, and she tried to get around him. He moved fast, grabbing her arm with enough force to make a whine escape her throat.

"You teasing little bitch," he growled, jerking her flush to his body. She could smell the blueberry wine on his breath and curled her lip. That explained the sudden boldness.

This time, Lyric didn't bother with a verbal response. She drove one of her knees into his groin and pulled her arm away as he let go to cup both hands to his crotch. To add insult to his injury, she used one wolf-nail-tipped hand and brought it across his face. She took a small amount of pleasure in seeing the lines of blood form on his cheek. Before he had any time to begin to recover, she hurried away, and dared just one glance back to be sure he wasn't after her. One of the strangers from the path had appeared beside Liam. They were neither offering a hand to help him or acting at all concerned. Whoever it was simply knelt down beside the blond—who was now collapsed to his knees—and seemed to be saying something to the young man. With the blood pounding in her ears, she couldn't hear what words were being exchanged, but from the look on Liam's face, she guessed that it was serious. Lyric turned her focus on herself and was pleased when she felt her wolf receding.

"You're late, again!" Lyla whispered when Lyric found her in the Clearing. "And you're filthy! What—how did you get back all over my Ritual dress?" Lyric felt a stab of guilt when she heard that. She'd forgotten that Lyla had once taken part in the Ritual and would have worn a white dress. And the first thing Lyric had thought after seeing it was that she hated it.

"I leaned against a tree to calm myself," she said, avoiding the woman's gaze. "I'm anxious and my control wanted to slip. I'm sorry."

"Sweetie," she whispered, brushing the bark from her back and hair. "Are you all right?" The unspoken question in her voice was 'Will you stay in control during this?'.

"Yeah."

"Are you ready?" Lyla asked, nodding at the roaring bonfire and the girls who stood in a line, all dressed in white. Behind each eligible female stood their mother and each mother held a simple blindfold.

"I guess," she sighed.

The two of them walked to the last place in the line; Lyla took her place behind Lyric. She could hear the immediate whispers and comments about her presence and she just kept her head and eyes down, trying to focus on the bonfire. Their Alpha made his way down the line, wishing each girl luck on his way, but came to a halt in front of Lyric.

"Is this wise?" he asked Lyla.

"Why wouldn't it be?" she replied. "It's not as if she is diseased. She is a werewolf. And unmated. Lyric deserves a change just like any other female here."

"Do you agree?" he asked, looking to Lyric.

"Yes," she whispered. She really wanted to say 'No', but she knew Lyla was too excited and hopeful.

"Well then," he said. "Best of luck, Lyric."

She quietly thanked him, blushing when she heard some barely whispered sneers. One of the Elders came forward, three handmade flower crowns in his hand, and everyone fell silent.

"As we all know, the Archer Pack is here to hopefully find a mate," he said, his voice booming over the silence. "Their Alpha-son, Kieran, has been to many other Packs and has yet to find what deem a suitable option. As our law dictates, he will have three choices of females—signaling this by placing a crown on the head—and after that, the females will be narrowed down via his Pack law."

"What is their law?" a girl spoke up from down the line.

"That is for them to discuss when the time comes," he replied, shooting her a brief glare of disapproval. "Ah, it is time to begin. Blindfolds now."

Lyla whispered words of encouragement as she placed the black strip of fabric over her eyes and Lyric tried to keep her mind focused on staying calm and in control. She breathed deep through her nose and let the air out between her lips. Her other senses kicked into overdrive to compensate for the lack of vision. She tried her best to block everything out so she wouldn't get over stimulated and risk changing right here.

When a warm and slightly rough hand, cradled the nape of her neck, she gasped and flinched back. She heard a small snicker and felt blood pool in her cheeks. The Archer Alpha-son had started on her end of the line, which she hadn't been expecting. Lyric scolded herself; what kind of idiot flinched like that? Her, of course. At least she was ready for what came next. The Alpha-son—Kieran, she remembered—pulled her closer and took a deep breath through his nose. This was her Pack's law for mate choosing. The Elders believed that anything wrong with a potential mate could be sussed out via scent. She shivered as the tip of his nose brushed along the side of her neck; he started at her collar bone and ended just behind her ear. Kieran inhaled deeply when he was behind her ear and she couldn't stop the tiny whine that worked its way from her throat. Lyric could feel the lips that ghosted her skin turn up into a smirk. He worked his way up the other side of her neck and ended with a soft hum from deep inside his chest. She thought the noise was one of appreciation and felt an unexpected surge of hope rush through her. Seconds ticked by and she felt nothing be placed upon her head. She wasn't chosen.

Tears prickled her eyes and she hated herself for even daring to have hope. No werewolf in their right mind would want her as a mate, not with her 'defect'. As soon as a wolf got a whiff of her, they knew. Suddenly she wanted to lash out. To change, knowing full well the things that could happen, and to just let her wolf run free. She was still waist deep in her useless anger when she felt something plop on her head. Then the smell of fresh wildflowers overwhelmed her sensitive nose and she blinked behind her blindfold. She'd been chosen.

The next few seconds were a blur. She could hear the entire Pack start to murmur after the crown had landed on her hair. Mostly, it was shock and disbelief about her being one of the three chosen, but she heard a few hopeful whispers—from the Elders and Lyla. The blindfold was pulled off and Lyric, as well as two blondes that she recognized but didn't remember the names of, and the three of them followed one of the other Elders deeper into the woods, heading for the small picnic area they had set up near the river. The blondes whispered and giggled with excitement and Lyric felt jittery with nerves. She walked in silence behind the Elder, keeping her head down, and only looked up when she heard two strange female voices. Two women were seated at the picnic table, illuminated by the torches stuck in the ground and the candles on the wooden table, and both stood when they entered into view.

Both of the women were stunning. One of the females was quite a bit taller and younger than the other. She had straight black hair that flowed to the middle of her back and bright, playful green eyes. She wore an elegant soft pink sundress that billowed around her calves. A wide grin broke her perfect face nearly in half when her eyes fell on the three young women; she even had perfect white teeth—complete with the slightly elongated canines that were a trait among werewolves.

"These must be our candidates!" she gasped. "Oh, you are all so lovely!"

"You have Lyric, Sophia, and June," the Elder said, gesturing to each girl. He left without another word.

"Well, my name is Mirabelle," she went on, ignoring the fact that the Elder even left. "I'm Kieran's mother. And this is Josephine, his grandmother."

Josephine was short, but Lyric couldn't guess her age. Other than the fact that she was older than Mirabelle. Werewolves aged differently than humans; they aged slower in a way. Her dark brown hair was streaked with grey and she wore it pulled back into a tight bun. She wore a denim skirt that reached her knees and a simple white button up blouse. She also had a pair of gorgeous green eyes and an equally beautiful smile.

"Are you ladies ready for the next step in the decision making?" Josephine asked. When they nodded, she almost squealed with delight and clapped her hands. "Mira, my dear, it's up to you now."

"All right," Mirabelle smiled. "Would you ladies please line up in front of me so I can get a good look at you before we move on."

The girls lined up in front of Mirabelle and Josephine; June and Sophia giggling with each other while Lyric kept her eyes focused on the dirt. Mirabelle walked down the line, complimenting June and Sophia on their dresses and looks, and paused when she reached Lyric. She had known it would happen. Mirabelle could no doubt smell the difference on her. Now, she'd be sent back to her Pack and have to try and deal with all the shame she'd brought on herself—as well as Lyla.

"A rarity," Mirabelle exhaled, eyes widening with wonder.

Rarity? Lyric wondered.

"My goodness! Just look at her!" she cooed, glancing back to Josephine. "Jo, she's a rarity!"

"What the hell is a 'rarity'?" June scoffed softly.

"Probably a polite way of saying that she's a freak," Sophia chuckled.

A sharp, venomous look was shot their way from both women and their cocky smirks vanished into ashamed looks. Josephine walked around Lyric, looking her up and down, and she had to fight the urge to just squirm.

"My," Josephine almost purred, "what a fine specimen."

"Thank . . . you?" she whispered.

Mirabelle smiled at her before taking a step back. She looked over the three women with that face-splitting smile once more, and clasped her hands in front of her. "The next step is quite simple," she said. "All you need to do is answer one question. Answer with honesty."

"A question?" June snickered. "That's easy enough." Josephine snorted and shut June down with a look.

"Each question will be different," Mirabelle went on. "Lyric, I'll start with you. Are you ready?"

"Uh. . . y-yes," she muttered. She didn't feel ready at all.

"Why would you want my son to pick you as a mate?" she asked, her green eyes wandering her face.

"Out of love," she blurted.

As soon as the words fell off of her tongue, Lyric wanted to take them back. It was a lame answer. Mushy. Judging from the hysterical laughter from June and Sophia, it was just horrible. Yet, it had been a completely honest answer. If she was to be mated to someone, she wanted it to be out of love. She was mentally kicking herself so loudly that she didn't even hear the questions asked of the other two candidates.

"Lyric?" a voice said, yanking her to the present.

"Sorry!" she squeaked, looking around.

Where did the other two go? She wondered when she saw that they were no longer present.

"Am I . . . disqualified?" she asked, feeling the burn of shame rush to her cheeks.

"Oh! Oh no! Quite the opposite, my dear!" Mirabelle said, grabbing Lyric's hands. "You are now an Archer."

"What?" she exhaled. With that last sentence, her entire world came shattering down. This couldn't really be happening. Her being mated—let alone to an Alpha-son—was just some stupid fantasy she played in her head on those full moon nights when the rest of the Pack was running and she was alone in her room, trying to ignore the pull of her wolf.

"Oh, honey, sit down!" Josephine said, rushing forward and taking her arm. "You've gone so pale! I'm afraid that you'll faint."

"I may," she muttered.

She stumbled on numb legs to the picnic table and collapsed to the bench. Lyric expected to wake up and find all of this to be some torturous dream brought on by Lyla's never ending chatter about the Ritual. This couldn't be happening! She wasn't a suitable mate.

"You don't want me!" she almost yelped at Mirabelle. "I'm a . . . freak of nature. Some sort of genetic defect. I'm not a good choice."

"Is that what they tell you?" she sighed. Her playful eyes were now full of sorrow as she sat beside her. "That you're a defect?"

"I am!" she said. "There's never been another like me!"

"Leave it to these backwoods Packs," Josephine snorted. "Honey, you are the furthest thing from a defect. I can't believe they've filled your head with such nonsense. There are plenty of others such as you."

"W-what? Where?" she asked, her eyes darting back and forth between the two ladies. "In your Pack?"

"No," Josephine said. "Usually rarities are in a Pack of their own. It's incredibly rare to find one outside of their Pack."

"Wait, what?" she gasped. "There is a whole Pack of werewolves like me?!"

"More than one Pack, dear," Mirabelle said, patting her hand. "We will have more time to explain later. Kieran is well versed in the different wolf Packs. He can tell you as much as you want later."

"Speaking of," Josephine said, "I should go get that grandson of mine."

"Why me?" Is it because I'm a rarity?" she asked. The shock just wasn't wearing off.

"No," Mirabelle soothed. "Because you answered with heart. The other two gave answers that told me they just wanted my son for his status in the Pack. Now, enough questions. Are you ready to meet your mate?"