Page 1 of Arranged Bullied Mate
Chapter 1 - Ronan
“There’s no need to look so miserable about it,” Jacob chuckles darkly as I continue to stomp around my kitchen, trying to make breakfast despite my mood. “It could be worse, you know.”
I slam the pan onto the granite counter and turn to look at him. “Worse than shackling myself to some female who is probably just going to annoy me, or worse, bore me? Forever?”
Jacob sighs and stands, grabbing the pan and pushing me out of the way. I pretend to protest, but really, I was counting on him taking over. I’ve known Jacob all my life; he was my best friend long before he was my beta, and he’s a much better cook than I am.
Jacob rolls his eyes at me as he cracks the eggs. “You want to be alpha? The council demands a luna. They want stability. Fill the vacuum your dad left and see you move Starcreek forward.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to snap at him, but he’s making me breakfast, so I let him continue for a moment. “The omegas know the score. Will it really be so bad to have one warm your bed? An omega to breed? Not much has to change.”
I stay silent for a moment as he plates the food and slides it over to me. I know he’s right. Besides, I’ve already agreed; the ceremony is this afternoon, and I couldn’t back out now even if I wanted to—not if I want to take my rightful place as alpha.
Of course, I’ve been the alpha since the day my father succumbed to his injuries following the fall. It killed me to see him like that after being so strong his whole life, but he was older than many even realized, and weakened by the passing of my mother the winter before.
In truth, I think he wanted to go. He’d admitted as much. The bond that makes the alpha stronger is also the bond that can weaken us when they’re gone. That’s the bit Jacob isn’t acknowledging. Taking a luna means looking after her my whole life, or my wolf could be weakened. I don’t like the idea of having so much tied up in someone else.
Especially not an omega. Sure, they’re good to fuck, and they have their place in our pack. We need them for breeding; they’re mothers and carers. I’ve got a lot of respect for that. But they’re also weak—their heat makes them irrational, and the thought of having one in my home forever makes me hesitant. Deep down, I don’t think I want to just mate one omega for the rest of my life, and I’ve been with most of the omegas in the pack already. My wolf doesn’t feel particularly drawn to any of them—at least, not to the available ones.
I shovel the food into my mouth, barely tasting it, as Jacob waits for me to say something. Finally, my fork clatters onto the plate. “Didn’t say I wasn’t going to do it,” I say. “Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it, though. The ceremony is outdated. How am I supposed to just go pick one?”
“Your wolf will know, he’ll pick for you,” Jacob replies, his voice so full of certainty that I raise my brows.
“Oh, really?" I laugh. “Well, he’s keeping quiet on the subject at the moment.”
Jacob laughs, too. “He’s probably weighing up which omega he’s enjoyed the most. Can’t say you haven’t sampled most of them.”
I groan, knowing full well that’s the problem. I have.
“In all seriousness,” Jacob continues. “The ceremony is a bit of a joke, but it will quiet potential challengers.”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. I know Jacob is just doing his job as beta, acting as my eyes and ears in the pack and bringing issues to my attention. But he’s been on red alert ever since the elders made me interim alpha and didn’t proceed with the full ceremony straight away. They wanted a mourning period, and at the time, I didn’t disagree. Jacob thinks it’s given some wolves, like Maddox, time to get ideas into their heads. Ideas about challenges.
Maddox’s father was a legend and one of my father’s closest allies. He died a hero defending the pack from a rogue wolf attack, and Maddox’s status has remained elevated because of that. Personally, I don’t care for Maddox. He’s cocky and selfish. But he is a warrior, like his father, and I can handle him.
Besides, if he was going to challenge me, he would have done it by now, not wait until I’m about to take a luna, knowing that my alpha power will only increase once we knot and cement the bond.
“I know your concerns, Jacob,” I reply evenly. “I have an eye on Maddox, too. But right now, I’m far more concerned with having to deal with a female.”
Jacob looks around my chef’s kitchen, which is barely used, and shakes his head. “Considering I’ve just cooked one of the very few meals prepared in this enormous kitchen, I’d say having an omega around might not be a bad idea. Maybe some pups…”
“One thing at a time, Jacob,” I say, throwing my plate in the sink, knowing I need to get ready. “Let’s see if my wolf can find one he wants first.”
Jacob’s phone starts ringing, and he stands, “Your wolf wanting a female has never been the issue,” he laughs as he heads onto the deck to take his call.
Of course, he’s right in one way. I can’t deny that I enjoy female company. I don’t know a male wolf who doesn’t. But when I really try to imagine having an omega to breed, I see only one face. One curvy body that I can still remember pinning beneath my own, even though I haven’t seen her in years. One omega I can’t have, and shouldn’t even want, because she’s from a family of traitors and probably long gone now, anyway.
I’ve fucked plenty of females since she was banished, more deserving omegas, but my wolf isn’t as interested in any of them. Which is tough, because he’s going to have to choose today. I’ve waited long enough to start ruling Starcreek properly.
My shower is quick and perfunctory as I go through the motions distracted, and I don’t linger in the mirror after. No time to dissect the slight lines around my eyes or the way my father’s jaw has become my own—too much of what’s expected, not enough of what I want. I pull on my jeans and a navy Henley, sleeves pushed up my forearms. My wolf paces under my skin, not with nerves, but something more like boredom. We both know what’s coming, and neither of us has the appetite for it.
Jacob’s waiting at the door, checking his phone, another half-smile already in place as I step out onto the porch. The pack lands sprawl down the hill, gold fields and ancient live oaks crowding the moon-shaped bowl of the valley. The council insisted we hold the ceremony on the old grounds, back where my father used to host the equinox feasts. I guess they thought a little tradition might remind the omegas what they stood to gain by becoming luna.
The walk to the ceremony grounds is short, but I can hear the music and buzz in the distance as soon as we set off. The normal, everyday calm of the pack has given way to something more electric: festival flags flapping in the wind, the scent of roasting meat and sweet treats filling the air from thestalls lining the ceremonial field, kids shrieking with delight as they chase each other through the long grass. The council wants visible, audible proof of my readiness to lead, so the whole pack is here, invited or not. Every omega who hasn’t already been mated is clearly here, their scents overwhelming me with an eager sweetness that has my wolf standing at attention. It appears he is interested, after all.
It’s like walking into heat, the way the pheromones hit. I taste sugar and salt at the back of my throat, catch laughter on the breeze, and the low, liquid hum of female voices. Jacob falls into step beside me, his usual swagger replaced by something sharper, more observant. He’s scanning the crowd like a soldier, but I know he can smell them too—new dresses, freshly washed hair, and the powerful natural perfume of omega pheromones, that raw, excited undercurrent of want.
The council has set up a dais at the edge of the field, draped in rust-red velvet and gold bunting. I can already spot at least three elders in ceremonial black, but I’m not interested in them. I’m more interested in the line of unmated omegas, each one done up to the nines and eyeing me with faint hope or outright hunger. Some of them I know by name, some by memory alone. The taste of their skin, the shape of their bodies writhing under me, the way their scent clung to my sheets for days after. I try not to look at any of them for too long. Most of the memories don’t excite me as much as their scents.
Jacob nudges me, his mouth barely moving. “You look like you’re about to be executed, not crowned.”