Page 10 of Howling Mad (Romance Expected Dating Service #1)

The drive out of the city is long through about two hours of winding roads.

The hustle fades into rolling hills and then denser forests.

My shoulders tighten the closer I get to pack land, though nostalgia stirs, mixed with longing for something I never found there and never will.

I grew up here, learning to shift with the pack, but I never belonged the way they expected.

I pass a battered sign that reads “Wilson Pack Grounds. Authorized Wolves Only,” which always makes me roll my eyes.

My father’s father posted that sign decades ago, paranoid about outsiders.

I follow a dirt road to the main compound, which is an old lodge surrounded by cabins.

Cars line the gravel lot, and wolves from various branches are already inside.

A pang of anxiety hits me, but I park, stepping out to greet the faint smell of pine.

Birdsong merges with distant chatter from the lodge.

I stand there, breathing in the forest air and remembering how I used to run here at dawn before heading to human school.

I walk up the lodge steps, and the wooden porch creaks. Two older wolves nod politely, but I see the flicker of disapproval in their eyes. They probably heard about my “human job” through the gossip chain. I muster a polite nod back and step inside.

The main hall brims with conversation. I keep to the perimeter, ignoring a few halfhearted attempts at small talk.

Someone tries to ask me about “the big city,” but I slip past, scanning for Aunt Eleanor.

I spot her across the room, an elegant figure with silver-streaked hair pinned in a neat bun.

She’s deep in conversation with a cluster of middle-aged wolves, calmly flipping through an old genealogical ledger.

She sees me and excuses herself, gliding over. Relief floods me. She’s the only one who genuinely seems happy I’m here. She opens her arms, and I step into a quick, warm hug. Then we step aside, away from the throng.

She studies me with sharp eyes. “You look tired.”

I shrug. “Work’s intense, and…I’ve had some personal stuff.”

She arches an eyebrow. “I’d ask if it’s about a woman, but I see that faint flush on your cheeks, so I suspect yes.”

A laugh escapes, surprising me. “You read me too well.”

She gestures for me to follow her out a side door, away from the crowd. “Walk with me to my cabin. We can chat more privately.”

We cross the lodge grounds, weaving between small cabins.

I sense wolves staring, whispering. I keep my gaze straight.

Aunt Eleanor’s cabin sits near the tree line, modest but well-kept.

She opens the door, ushering me into a cozy living area stuffed with old books and meticulously labeled boxes of pack archives.

The smell of lavender drifts from a half-burned candle.

She motions to an armchair for me and then settles on a worn sofa. “I heard from your father that you’re ignoring pack events again. You know he’s not thrilled.”

I exhale. “I know, but I’m living in the city now, building a career.”

She nods calmly. “Your father won’t budge on his expectations. You realize that?”

I tilt my head back, closing my eyelids for a moment. “I do. He thinks I’m neglecting my wolf side. It’s not that. I just… I can’t be what he wants. I tried, with all these forced dates in the pack and then with wolves outside the pack. None of it worked.”

She smiles gently. “I recall you mentioning a matchmaker...”

I cough, remembering how I explained it on a previous visit. “Yes. It’s an agency run by a red panda, who helps shifters who don’t fit typical molds.”

Eleanor’s eyes gleam. “That’s where you found this new woman you’re thinking about, hmm?”

Blood rushes to my face. “She’s not exactly new. She’s the matchmaker’s assistant. Actually, she’s the one who’s been picking my dates.”

Her lips part in amusement. “So, not a client, but the consultant. How intriguing.”

Heat creeps up my neck. “I didn’t plan it, but after a string of terrible matches, we had a moment. We ended up talking while eating takeout. It felt more real than any date. Now, I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Eleanor leans forward, her curiosity piqued. “Tell me about her.”

I rub my palms together, unsure how to begin.

“Her name’s Finley. She’s also a wolf from a hyper-traditional pack.

She left them because they tried forcing her into alpha marriages.

She’s easy to talk to, sharp-witted, and confident in this quiet way.

” I pause, glancing away. “She sees me. Not my father’s expectations, not my bank account, but me . ”

Eleanor’s eyes soften. “You deserve that. Does she reciprocate your interest?”

I swallow. “It’s complicated. She’s my matchmaker, so there’s a professional line, but I think…” I exhale. “I think, yes. I pick up on subtle cues.”

Eleanor taps her chin. “You sound smitten.”

A short laugh tumbles out. “I haven’t used that word since reading old romance novels for my college lit class, but yeah, maybe I am. This is huge for me. I’ve never had someone I genuinely wanted to open up to who also shares some of my experiences, like not fitting in.”

She hums, nodding. “Don’t let your father’s worldview stop you from pursuing happiness.”

I sink deeper into the chair. “He’ll hate it. She’s not a typical wolf in his sense. He wants me to pick someone who hunts daily and devotes her life to pack events.”

Eleanor picks up a small crocheted doily, fiddling with it. “He wants power and sees your mate as a tool for alliances. You already broke tradition by leaving for finance. Why not break it again for your mate?”

I rub my temple, tension flaring. “I know, but ignoring my father entirely is easier said than done. He’s beta. The pack is constantly under his sway.”

She stands, crossing the room to rest a comforting hand on my shoulder.

“Michael, you can’t bend your entire life to appease him.

If you want to be with this matchmaker, do it.

If you want to stay in the city, do it. The pack’s acceptance might come later, or maybe never, but you deserve your own path. ”

I let out a slow breath. “I appreciate it.”

She steps back, rummaging in a drawer. “I can’t do much about your father’s stubbornness, but I do have moonshine if you need to fortify yourself for the rest of the evening.”

A laugh breaks through my anxiety. “Moonshine might be overkill, but thanks.”

We talk a while longer, drifting to pack gossip, her research into old wolf genealogies, and my father’s friction with the alpha. Aunt Eleanor glances out the window. “The official gathering starts soon. We can linger here, but eventually, your father will notice.”

I shrug. “He can notice. I’m not in a rush to be cornered.”

Aunt Eleanor winks. “We’ll go in late. Let him stew.”

That’s exactly what we do. By the time we wander back to the lodge, the formalities are underway, which are a mixture of speeches and displays of dominance.

My father stands near the front, scanning the crowd.

His gaze lands on me, and a flicker of disapproval crosses his face.

I stiffen, bracing for some passive-aggressive remark later, but I remind myself of what Aunt Eleanor said. I can’t let him dictate everything.

The rest of the evening is as painful as expected. Wolves ask me stilted questions about “human finance” or throw barbs about how real wolves prefer physical labor. I keep answers minimal, ignoring their thinly veiled jabs.

My father approaches me, his gaze intense. “Michael, are you ready to move back home and step up for the pack?”

I take a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “Work keeps me in the city, Dad. It’s complicated.”

His expression darkens and his frustration is clear. “Your priorities are all wrong,” he mutters, turning on his heel and storming off.

Eventually, Aunt Eleanor winks at me from across the room, a silent signal that it’s safe to slip out.

I do so, feeling raw from all the scrutiny.

I return to my car, tossing my duffel in the trunk.

It’s late, and I’ll get home later still, but I won’t stay here overnight if I can help it.

The lodge glows behind me in the rearview mirror, a place that should feel like home but doesn’t.

I pass the old territory sign, exhaling in relief as I leave pack land behind.

The sense of oppression lifts, and I press the accelerator.

The city lights lie ahead, a couple of hours away, and my father’s demands fade from immediate focus.

Aunt Eleanor’s advice resonates. If I want to be with Finley, I shouldn’t let the pack’s expectations hold me back.