Page 2 of Alpha Wolf’s Arranged Bride (Rose Hollow Wolves #1)

The market is noisy with shouting voices, the rattling of wares, and constantly shifting footsteps.

In the stall next to me, old lady Mazra is hollering loudly about her handmade jewelry and herbal concoctions.

On the other side, Jeremy tries to draw the crowd over to inspect his wooden furniture and custom tools.

I don’t bother to yell. It won’t do any good. The more noise I make, the more people try to ignore me.

That thought hits hard enough to crack my heart in two, but I swallow down my tears, stand up straight, and start shaking out a beautiful, deep blue dress with silver embroidery lining the sleeves and hem.

Across the bodice, a delicate pattern of leaves and stars traces up the midsection and frames the neckline.

It’s one of the best I’ve ever made, and it’s worth hundreds—but I’ll be lucky to make fifty dollars for it.

Even though I should be looking up, at least trying to entice customers, I keep my eyes down. I’ve been an outcast for years now, slowly pushed out to the edge of the pack until I had no friends and no support.

I wipe my cheek angrily, hating the tears.

I’m done being sad. I didn’t ask for any of this, and I’d rather be angry!

“This is lovely work, Scarlett,” someone says. “How much is it?”

I look up to see Genevieve, and for a moment, my heart lifts. Then I notice her set mouth and hard glare.

Of course she likes the dress. It matches her eyes.

“Two hundred,” I answer.

She scowls at me as if I just insulted her mother, brother, and extended family, as well as her pride.

“Don’t be ridiculous. The fabric isn’t that expensive.”

“The thread is.”

“So, I’m paying hundreds of dollars for thread?”

“I worked on this for hours, Gen. The work is incredibly delicate—”

“Don’t get familiar with me,” she snaps. “You may call me Genevieve, even if it is slightly inappropriate. Otherwise, you refer to me as Elder Larson.”

I stare at her, feeling the chasm of pain open up in my chest again. I remember when those bright blue eyes were full of laughter and affection, and we trusted each other with every secret.

“What happened, Gen?” I mutter softly.

She shakes her head and leans over the table to whisper at me. “You know what happened. You got pregnant outside of the mate bond. It might have been accepted if it were a pack member of some standing—but you got pregnant by a faithless drifter!”

I shake my head a little, tears running down my cheeks. It was bad enough to give myself to James only to find out he’d abandoned me, and worse to find out I was carrying his child. But what had truly devastated me was losing all my friends over it.

I never outright said it was James, but my closest friends assumed it was. The rest of the town didn’t really care who the deadbeat dad was. The only thing that mattered to them was that I’d gotten pregnant from a one-night stand.

It wasn’t supposed to be that way! I thought he loved me.

“Do you want the dress or not?” I ask, a hard tone in my voice as I wipe the tears from my cheeks.

Gen glares at me. “Seventy-five. I won’t pay a cent more.”

“Fine,” I mutter, wrapping the gown in tissue paper before putting it gently into a paper bag. Gen puts the cash down on the counter as if she’d rather not touch me.

“Don’t forget, you’re booked to clean the council chambers tomorrow,” Gen says as she picks up her bag. “We did you a real favor giving you this job, and it pays well, so don’t screw up.”

“No problem,” I say, knowing damn well that no other cleaner in town would take the job because it would mean working for Gen.

Ever since her dad died and she became an elder, she’s been insufferable. Maybe we wouldn’t have stayed friends, even if I didn’t end up becoming the town joke.

“Don’t be late,” she snaps as she walks away.

I want to snap back, but I just nod.

I can’t fuck up; I need the money too badly.

Even though no one can deny the quality of my clothes, and my work is still in demand, no one pays fairly for it anymore. I used to make an excellent living from it, but now I can barely make ends meet, even with the extra cleaning jobs I’ve been doing on the side.

The market seems to be winding down, and I know I’ve probably outstayed my welcome for the day, anyway, so I pack up and get ready to pick up my son from school.

It’s hard to believe he’s five years old. Sometimes that night with James seems like it was only yesterday…

As my fingers linger over the soft, silky fabric of my wares, I slip into memories of that night, so intense that they take my breath away. I can almost feel his firm touch, taste his lips, and see the shadows glancing off his body as he moves above me.

James… why?

I shove the thoughts away, angrily packing boxes into the back of my car. I could stay a bit longer, hoping to sell a couple more dresses, but I’d rather get over to the school and be ready to pick up Jarrod.

It’s a great comfort to me that even though I’m completely shunned by the town, Jarrod has some acceptance at school. The teachers are extremely traditional, but they won’t punish an innocent child for my sins, and they see to it that he has a good education and isn’t held back.

As I wait near the school entrance for the bell to ring, I look around at the other moms chatting with each other and try not to let it bother me. If I happen to catch anyone’s gaze, they quickly turn away, locking me out of their conversations.

I don’t fucking care!

Actually, I do. A lot.

Mercifully, the bell rings, and kids start to pour from the buildings, swarming the playground and charging for the gates. I see Jarrod straight away, his bright blond hair glowing in the light.

He got that golden hair from his grandmother—my mother. Dad said her hair was like living sunlight.

I try to shove that painful thought away, but Jarrod barrels into me, wraps his arms around my waist, and looks up, shocking me with his big amber eyes.

It’s so strange. His eyes aren’t his father’s dark brown color, but they’re still his father’s eyes. I’m sure of it.

“Hey, Mom!” he says. “I made a painting. Do you want to see?”

“I sure do,” I answer, putting an arm around his shoulders.

Jarrod uses his free hand to rummage in his bag, finally pulling out the big piece of paper. “It’s the forest, see? The sky is dark because night is falling, and the shadows are creeping nearer to the glades as the sun sets.”

“That’s really creative,” I say, meaning it. With lines of color and skillful shading, Jarrod has given the painting real perspective and depth.

“You like it?” he asks, beaming.

“I really do. I want to put it on the wall at home right away.”

“Aw,” he mutters, ducking his head. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Of course I do. It’s beautiful, Jarrod.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

We walk over to the car, and it’s painfully obvious that no other kids call out to Jarrod or ask him to play. He bears it stoically, eyes forward as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

My boy, my poor, strong little boy. He’s growing up so much faster than he should.

“I tell you what,” I say as we get into the car. “How about we go get some ice cream?”

“Are you sure, Mom?” he asks. “Don’t we need to save up for other stuff?”

My heart screams in my chest, and it’s hard to cover up my frustration. I try as hard as I can to keep Jarrod’s life stress-free, but he still notices when I can’t pay bills on time or buy his favorite snacks.

“Yeah!” I say with fake enthusiasm. “We’re fine. I sold a nice dress today, so don’t worry. We can afford a little treat.”

His big smile warms my heart, and I focus completely on his happiness, shoving my troubles behind a huge mental wall.

Not healthy. I don’t care, though. I just want to make him happy as often as I can, and I’ll enjoy this feeling every chance I get.

We go to the little ice cream parlor where old Trudy serves us up a couple of double chocolate fudge sundaes. She’s sweet to me and to Jarrod. Even though she’s old and just as traditional as everyone else in this town, she still likes to make people happy, especially kids.

Over ice cream, we talk about Jarrod’s day in school, and he mentions that he wants to go into an advanced art class. I listen attentively but make no commitment to it, even as it breaks my heart. The advanced class is expensive, and I just can’t afford it, no matter how much I make.

By the time we leave, my chest is heavy again, but I hide it well, chatting brightly with Jarrod all the way home.

I don’t know how long I can keep doing this. I love him so much, I only want the best for him, but how can I possibly provide what he needs?

When I pull up in front of my little cottage, I notice there is already a car in the driveway. A huge, gleaming Mercedes-Benz.

Uncle Azarian.

Jarrod and I get out of the car warily. Even though my uncle raised me after my parents were killed in a car crash when I was thirteen, I don’t have a lot of affection for him.

“Raised me” is pretty generous, though. My uncle hired a nanny to join his staff, and she was responsible for me. We barely saw each other in that huge house of his. I had a closer relationship with the butler.

As we approach, Uncle Azarian gets out of the car. As usual, he wears an expensive suit of an elegant cut. Tasteful gems glint from his fingers. They flicker, catching the light as he brushes back his thick, ash-blond hair.

“Scarlett,” he says smoothly. “I was wondering where you were.”

“Just out with Jarrod,” I answer, hurrying over to open the door. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting, but it’s not like I knew you were coming.”

“Of course not, dear. Don’t apologize. I have important news to share with you, and I didn’t mind waiting.”

I tell Jarrod to go inside, turning around so I can meet my uncle on the front lawn. Whatever his important news is, I don’t want Jarrod to hear it.

“What can I do for you, Uncle?” I ask, keeping my voice steady. I can’t help the coil of anger that rises within me—that I have to bow and scrape to him, even though he’s treated me like shit for the last five years.

He was prepping me for an important marriage, one of the first families. Then I had to go and ruin it by getting pregnant. Damaged goods. Who would want me now?

“We have an offer from Rose Hollow,” he says, smiling. “The alpha wants to wed, and he has asked us, specifically, if we have a suitable bride.”

My heart freezes to a stop in my chest as I stare at him in disbelief.

“They are our enemies. Why would they ask this?”

“Precisely for that reason,” he answers. “For a peace treaty. I think it’s an excellent idea.”

“Okay,” I mutter, my breath caught in my throat. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’ve chosen you to go.”

“Chosen me…” I choke on my own words. “You can’t just make me marry some random guy!”

“Listen!” he hisses, grabbing my arm and pulling me close to him so he can glare into my eyes. “You don’t get to throw any kind of attitude at me! I cared for you after your parents died. I gave you everything—and you repay me with this… this…”

He shakes his head, stepping back and letting go of my arm. I try not to tremble, but I don’t succeed, and I have to gasp for breath as I wrap my arms around myself.

“You’re perfect for this,” he says. “I’m not sending one of our women out. You’re spoiled—damaged goods. The fact that you’re my niece makes it seem like a grand gesture. Apparently, he doesn’t care if you’ve had a kid. Proven fertility, they said.”

My cheeks flame up immediately from shame as well as anger, but I don’t dare speak.

“You’ll be leaving soon,” he says with finality. “Truthfully, I can’t wait to be rid of you. I think this is an excellent solution to all our problems.”

“Even mine?” I cry. “You say you’ve looked after me, but I can’t afford groceries, or Jarrod’s art program—”

“Your new husband will take care of all of that,” he answers, waving a hand dismissively. “That’s his problem now.”

“You can’t!” I beg, grabbing his arm. “Please!”

“I told you!” he hisses, shaking me. “I’m doing you a fucking favor here. A way out. You’ll take it, or I’ll have your son’s neck on the block. Do you understand?”

I let go of him, and he releases my arm, letting me shuffle back a step. I stare at him, more frightened than I’ve ever been in my life.

“Do you understand?” he repeats.

“Yes, sir,” I answer. “Perfectly. I’ll do as you say.”

“Excellent,” he says, getting in the car. “I’ll return soon. Be ready.”

As he pulls down the driveway, I feel the shock in my veins turning into determination. The threat of the block has driven out my fear, replacing it with fire.

I’ve only heard rumors about the block… but I don’t want to find out if they’re true.

After Azarian’s car disappears, I race back into the house, yelling for Jarrod. Grabbing a bag, I start hurling things into it.

“Mom?” Jarrod asks, appearing in the doorway.

“Grab some things!” I scream. “Only what you can easily carry, essentials only. We’re leaving!”

“Now?” he asks, bewildered.

“Yes, now!” I yell. “Right NOW !”