Page 2 of Craved by the Werewolf (Mystic Ridge Monster Mates #2)

THORNE

P aper cuts and politics—my two least favorite hazards of leadership.

By noon, the conference room smelled like burnt coffee and too many people thinking too hard. Outside the glass walls, the Mystic Ridge Pack compound kept moving—boots on stone, clipped radio chatter, the sharp bark of a training command—but in here, the air was suffocating.

Security maps were spread across the table like open wounds.

Color-coded perimeter routes, vendor grids, med tents, noise-dampening zones for the young wolves who still flinched at bass drops—it all stared back at me like a beast waiting to see if I'd blink first. House Party always looked simple from the amphitheater seats: music, food, community. From my chair, it was a hydra.

"Which head are we chopping first?" Kai asked from across the table, sliding a pastry toward me with the kind of grin that meant he'd already eaten three. His elbows were planted on a section of map I'd spent an hour marking, which he either didn't notice or didn't care about.

"Noise control from the main stage," Raina said before I could answer.

She leaned in, fingertip tapping a red-outlined zone.

"Last year it bled into the back field and set off two different packs during the headliner.

We'll switch to directional stacks this year and rotate sentries every ninety minutes. Ear fatigue spikes after that."

She was my second-in-command for a reason. Raina had the patience of a saint and the instincts of a battlefield general.

I made the note on my tablet. "Double the medics near the back field. Last year, half a dozen humans tried to mosh with a troll."

Kai snorted. "Whatever happened to them?"

"They bounced. Hard. Two landed in the beer tent, one in the merch line, and the rest... I'm still not sure."

That got a few chuckles from the rest of the table, but no one stopped working. This close to House Party, we didn't get the luxury of distraction. Thousands crammed into one event meant potential problems multiplied fast. And, eyes—both the friendly and the unfriendly—would be on us.

I studied the map again, mentally tracing each checkpoint and choke point.

House Party wasn't just another gig for me—it was a promise.

The event kept Haven House running year-round, giving kids a place to learn how to live with what they were.

I'd grown up with a powerful pack behind me; I knew how rare that kind of safety was.

I didn't intend to let anything happen to jeopardize it.

We were halfway through reviewing the eastern perimeter when the conference room door opened.

The scent of pressed wool and council chambers drifted in, followed by Liam Beaumont.

He looked like a diplomat, spoke like one too.

Which meant whatever he was about to say was probably going to make my life harder.

"Thorne," he said with a small nod to me, another to Raina. His gaze skated over the maps on the table like he was making note of classified intel. "Quick item from the Council."

Raina muttered, "Here we go," without looking up from her tablet.

From across the room, Jax's head popped up from behind his computer monitor like a pup sensing prey, his eyes wide with surprise. "Wait, did Liam just voluntarily walk into a room full of wolves without bringing snacks?"

I narrowed my eyes at Jax, my jaw tightening just enough to send the message without words. The young wolf's eager smile faltered under my stare, a flash of submission crossing his features before he slowly sank back behind his monitor.

"Behave," I growled under my breath, the word barely audible but carrying enough weight that every wolf in the room felt it ripple through the air. My fingers tensed against the table's edge, claws threatening to emerge as my dominance naturally asserted itself.

The scent of Jax's embarrassment mingled with the already-tense atmosphere, and I inhaled deeply, letting my chest expand before focusing my attention back on our unwanted weekly visitor.

Liam stood there, unfazed by the pack dynamics playing out before him.

A reminder of the world we had to navigate beyond our den.

Liam clasped his hands in front of him. "As you know, community relations are... delicate this year. The Council feels that House Party should be more than an event—it should be a visible symbol of unity. And to that end, there will be a... change in the way it's presented."

"Change how?"

"You will be joining Vala Nightingale on stage as her co-host."

The words landed like a rock dropped into still water. No one breathed. Then Kai grinned like a wolf who'd found an unattended steak.

"The Vala Nightingale?" he said. "My cousin never misses her show. Says she could talk a basilisk off a windowsill with that voice."

I didn't look up fast enough to hide the way her name surprised me. My wolf reacted instantly—alert, aware, spine prickling like the sound had teeth.

"She's always hosted House Party by herself," I said slowly, as if making sure Liam hadn't confused his notes. "You're telling me I'm going to share her mic this year?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you." Liam's tone was smooth, like he thought if he said it politely enough I wouldn't bite.

"We know security has always been your domain.

But the Council feels the event will benefit from seeing you on stage—visible, approachable, working in partnership with someone the whole community already trusts. "

Raina's lips twitched. "Approachable."

Kai leaned back, clearly enjoying this far too much. "This is gonna be good."

"It will be a distraction," I said flatly. "My job is to keep that crowd safe, not swap banter into a microphone."

"Which is precisely why it will work," Liam countered. "She handles the crowd energy. You reinforce the safety measures in real time. You're not replacing her—you're complementing her."

I didn't like the phrasing. Complementing her implied a level of coordination I hadn't signed up for. Still, it meant swallowing personal preference for the good of the pack and the community. And the Council wasn't asking. They never did.

"Fine," I said.

"Excellent. I'll inform the station manager—you'll be there tonight for the first promo."

I lifted my head. "First promo?"

"Yes," he said, adjusting his collar. "We took the liberty of arranging some on-air spots to... introduce the new pairing. Short, conversational, reassuring." He cleared his throat.

Across the table, Raina's grin sharpened. "Conversational."

I ignored her, gathering the maps. My wolf wasn't ignoring anything—my heart rate quickened with irritation, a sense of frustration prickling beneath my skin.

Promo spots? Plural? The implications rippled through me—time away from actual security planning.

My jaw clenched as I stacked the perimeter diagrams with more force than necessary.

"Anything else you'd like to add, Liam?"

The words barely left my lips before a growl tore from deep within my chest, vibrating through the room with such intensity that Liam's perfectly combed hair ruffled in the sound wave. His scent spiked with a hint of fear as he instinctively stepped back, papers clutched to his chest like a shield.

"I—I think that covers everything for now," he stammered, trying to maintain his composure while subtly attempting to smooth his disheveled appearance.

My wolf was satisfaction at his discomfort. Good. Let him feel a fraction of the irritation coursing through my veins at this unwelcome arrangement.

"Then I think you're finished here."

Liam's eyes widened slightly before he backed away and scurried out the door.

The meeting broke apart in the usual shuffle of chairs and paper.

I stayed back to gather my thoughts, fingers drumming an impatient rhythm on the table.

But I caught the sideways looks. Raina's smirk, sharp as a blade.

Kai's barely contained laugh, a rumble in his chest that set my teeth on edge.

Jax pretending to check his phone while clearly dying to say something smart-assed that would earn him a week of perimeter duty.

I didn't give them the satisfaction of a gaze.

Leadership is part command, part performance, and right now mine meant keeping my discomfort contained behind a mask.

Never, ever show weakness. That's the first rule of being Alpha.

Show your vulnerable underbelly once, and the pack starts thinking they can sink their teeth into it.

Co-hosting.

Vala Nightingale wasn't just some random human the Council plucked out of a crowd for optics. She was the voice of House Party—all the hype, all the charm, all the sly commentary that made the event sound like more than a lineup of acts. She'd turned it into an institution.

And I'd stayed where I belonged. In the shadows, keeping the crowd in line and the peace intact.

Putting me on stage beside her wasn't just a change. It was a tectonic shift.

I'd heard her voice more than I'd admit out loud.

Not just at House Party and other events, but on late patrols when the night stretched long and empty.

Her show threaded through the static on Ridge FM—interviews with monster bands that didn't get airtime anywhere else, pointed questions for Council reps who danced around answers, the kind of late-night call-ins where people exposed more truth than they intended.

It was good radio. Edgy. Mesmerizing. Her voice had a way of finding the cracks, slipping under armor you didn't realize you'd left exposed.

The wolf inside me stirred at the thought, ears pricked, tail high.

"Down," I muttered under my breath.

It didn't listen. Wolves don't care about politics or PR or keeping a secure perimeter. Wolves care about instincts. About draw.

And Vala Nightingale had always been... magnetic.

This was a problem.

House Party wasn't a tidy ribbon-cutting. It was a living thing with sharp edges—old grudges, more liquor than sense, and the volatile joy of a town that didn't get many nights to let loose. You didn't walk into that kind of energy distracted.

And standing next to her? Listening to that voice up close? That was disaster waiting to happen.

Still, the Council wanted unity. Raina would say it was a smart move. Liam would say it was inevitable. And I'd already said yes, which meant the decision was made whether I liked it or not.

The vibration in my pocket shattered my concentration. Knox's name blazed on the screen—my favorite pack elder, and the smug bastard knew it.

"Son, we need to work on your softer side."

"Softer side."

"And your communication skills need some work."

"I know how to communicate," I growled.

"That's the problem right there. You're doing it now—the growling. And that death stare you think no one notices." He chuckled, the sound like gravel in a washing machine. "Liam says you're scaring him today."

"Good."

"Not good. You have exactly—" I heard him checking his watch, "—eight hours before you're live on air, and right now you have all the charm of a rabid porcupine."

I ground my teeth. "I've done media before."

"Pack meetings don't count. This is Ridge FM. The whole town listens to that show."

"I'm aware."

"Are you aware you're supposed to be charming? Approachable? The kind of Alpha humans won't run screaming from when you host House Party together?"

Five minutes later, "Charm School" had materialized on my afternoon schedule, like a splinter under my nail. As if I were some pup who'd never faced a microphone. My grip tightened until the phone case whined in protest.

"Son of a—" This was not happening.

"Oh, and Thorne?" Knox's voice oozed satisfaction. "Try not to bite anyone." He burst into laughter before hanging up.

The plastic finally cracked.

I closed the conference room door behind me and headed for the overlook trail, where the mountain air could scrape the noise out of my head. Pine, cold earth, and distance steadied me better than anything ever could.

Somewhere out there, in the cluster of lights that was downtown Mystic Ridge, she'd be getting ready for her next broadcast. She would be getting ready for me.

I told myself it was just another job.

My wolf called me a liar.