Most of the werewolves didn’t bother with pretense. Socializing instantly went out the window since the Christmas party started. Most of the delicious feast on the table was forgotten along with the cold pile of presents underneath the brightly colored lights of a massive pine tree. Pairs devoured and rutted each other in various states of undress like it was their last hour on earth while ‘Jingle Bells’ played from an old stereo. Even Pete’s Alpha, Carlos Medina, the gracious host of their little get together, was busy fumbling for the jeans zipper of his mate in one corner. The ache inside him continued to fester. Pete wanted to scream out his frustration, but instead he numbly munched on his pastry. After the rocky events of the past year, he wondered if things would turn out for the better or the worse. Pete was happy for his health-conscious pack mates. Really. After the New Haven pack finally settled the war with the Starr Mountain Pack, one of the more powerful werewolf packs in the region, everything was back to normal.
