Page 10 of Arranged Bullied Mate
Jacob’s report aligns with the nagging feeling I have that Ava doesn’t really want to be here. Any omega in her position should have been celebrating the fact that she was chosen; it’s her ticket to return to the pack with increased status. But something is off with her. She tries to mask it, but she looks devastated. With her heat coming, we should be fucking already, but she’s fighting it, and although I don’t want to admit it to Jacob, I’m suspicious, too. But I don’t want to look weak—I can’t have my first, rather impulsive, decision be wrong. So whatever is going on with Ava, she’s just going to have to get over it. She’s not going anywhere, and once her heat kicks in, I will breed her, be officially declared alpha, and there will be no more obstacles.
In the meantime, I’ll just make sure Ava is subtly watched so she doesn’t do anything stupid. Luckily, with Emily more than happy to help her settle in, I can enlist my sister to unwittingly be my eyes and ears, with Jacob apparently eager to monitor the situation, too. Ava is locked away in her room as usual, avoiding me, so I take the stairs two at a time to tell her Emily will be over within the hour.
I don’t knock, because it’s my fucking house, and my simmering resentment toward this situation with Ava and the way her scent is driving me crazy is pushing my buttons today. However, the moment I enter her room, I wish I’d just sent her a text. Maybe she didn’t hear me enter, because she’s coming out of the en suite, steam still billowing behind her, wet hair plastered to her neck and shoulders. She’s got a towel around her, but it's pointless—her tits are so fucking huge they look ready to burst the seams, the top edge nearly at her armpits, the bottom barely long enough to hide the curve of her ass. Her calves and thighs are bare, slick with leftover water, and for a second, I just watch her, caught by the obscene effort it must take to keep that towel up.
She freezes when she sees me. “Ronan? Can you—” Her voice is raw, halfway to a whimper, and her pupils are blown so wide the irises are almost gone. Her heat’s closer than I thought.
I step into the room and shut the door behind me. “You’re dripping all over the floor,” I say, not even trying to hide the edge in my voice. The smell of her slick hits me immediately—sweet, feral, sticky with pheromones so thick it’s like my brain is coated with it.
Her hand tightens on the towel, knuckles white, and the action just shoves her cleavage higher. “You could have knocked,” she mutters, but her voice dies as I step closer.
I advance on her, the air between us thick with steam and something rawer, more animal. She’s braced herself against the dresser, like I’m going to bite. Maybe I am. My wolf is clawing at the inside of my skin. I can’t help myself. I grab the towel and rip it away in a single motion. She gasps, stumbling back, eyes wide and wild.
The first thing I notice is the way her tits hang heavy, full and perfect, peaked with nipples darker and harder than I remembered. The sight of them is so obscene it makes my jaw clench, and I don't bother pretending not to look, not even for a second. Her body is even more indecent than I remembered—soft, lush curves everywhere, belly round and thighs thick enough to make any alpha lose his mind. My cock is instantly hard, straining against my zipper so violently it almost hurts.
I let my gaze rake over her. I want her to know exactly what I’m thinking, how little she can hide from me. Her scent is insane, like honey and something desperate. She’s trembling, but she doesn’t cover herself, and I can’t decide if it’s defiance or submission. Maybe both. I step closer, not touching her, just letting my heat crowd her until her breathing turns ragged. Now she does try to cover herself, crossing her arms over her chest, but that just squeezes her breasts together, impossibly round and high, and does nothing to hide the slick already glistening on her inner thighs. It's a physical reaction she can't control—her body was made to be bred, and right now, every cell is screaming for it.
But when I look back at her face, she looks horrified, as though she’s desperate for the heat not to happen. I sigh, “Why are you fighting your omega nature?”
Her eyes go wide as she tries and fails to cover her enormous breasts with her hands. “I-I’m not,” she lies, pissing me off even more.
I throw the towel at her, “Your heat is coming, and I can tell from the scent of your slick, it’s going to be strong. You’ll be begging to ride my cock in a few days. I might not even give it to you now, I might let you suffer,” I growl at her, watching the horror cross her face. Everyone knows how much an omega suffers if they can scent an alpha but not get fucked when they’re in heat; it’s physically painful for them. “Emily will be here soon. Perhaps being around another female will remind you of how Starcreek works and how lucky you are to be here instead of cast out again with your traitorous parents if I hadn’t chosen you and let you return.”
Turning, I slam the door and storm back downstairs, my wolf frustrated beyond belief. I wasn’t lying, the scent of her slick is overwhelming, and I’ve no doubt it will be detectable by almost all the males in the pack soon. I grab my phone from the island in the kitchen and fire off a text to one of my mated betas to arrange a guard for the house, someone I can trust not to be tempted by her pheromones. That done, I continue out of the house, not wanting to see Emily in this state. My wolf is so close to the surface, demanding to fuck; the last thing I want is to see my thankfully still innocent little sister.
I drive straight to the rec center because I need to burn off the heat that is crawling up my spine, and I don’t trust myself around anyone else. The gym is little more than a metal barn with a battered row of benches and a boxing ring that’s older than I am, but inside, there’s the clean, stinging scent of sweat and resin and the comfort of routine. I catch Jacob’s scent before I even open the door. He’s sparring with a couple of junior betas, running them through drills with relentless efficiency.
They all snap to attention the moment I step inside, even the ones too young to know better. It’s not just the impending title of alpha; it’s the fact that my wolf is burning so hot that I canfeel the effect it has on the room. Jacob waves off the other two, who scatter, and then tosses me a pair of gloves.
“You look like shit,” he says, not unkindly. “Want to go a few rounds?”
I nod, and in two minutes I’m in the ring. I don’t bother with mouthguards or warmup, I just want to feel something, and Jacob knows it. He circles, hands low, eyes dark and alert, and I come at him hard. We don’t talk because we don’t need to. There’s a choreography to our violence, a well-honed dance between men who have been fighting since we were pups.
We go three rounds before I finally get the edge I want. Jacob’s fast, but finally slips up, and I catch him hard in the ribs. There’s a satisfying thud as he’s winded, but still grinning. I might have broken something, but he doesn’t seem to care.
He yanks off his gloves and leans on the ropes, sweat streaking his jaw. “Feel better?” he pants.
“A little,” I say, though my hands are still shaking.
He rolls his shoulders, eyes flicking to the end of the gym, and I follow his gaze. Maddox is there. He wasn’t when I came in, but he is now, leaning against the wall and watching us with a familiar smirk, like he’s keeping tabs on every blow.
Jacob notices the shift in the air. “You want me to stay?” he asks, low.
I shake my head. “I’ve got it.”
Jacob shrugs but doesn’t move far; he just circles the ring, grabs a towel, and keeps Maddox in his peripheral vision. Loyalty like that isn’t taught, it’s bred. It’s moments like this that I remember exactly why he’s my beta.
My conversation with Maddox the other day went about as well as it could. He said all the right things about loving thepack and respecting me as alpha. Only time will tell, though, if he can keep his nose clean and settle into his role here.
Maddox peels off the wall, his posture loose but his eyes sharp as ever. “Didn’t mean to interrupt the fun,” he shrugs, “but I was hoping to catch you, Ronan.”
He says my name like he owns a piece of it. I think that’s the issue my father’s kindness created. I wipe my face with a towel, ignoring the salt sting in my eyes. Maddox climbs into the ring, not bothering with etiquette or boundaries—never has—and sits on the ropes, swinging one leg inside.
“You’re getting sloppy,” he grins. “Or maybe just distracted.” He gestures vaguely, like my distraction is a weather vane everyone can point to. “Word is your omega’s about to go into heat. That’s a big event for the pack.”
I stare him down. “You have something to say, Maddox, say it.”
He raises his hands, all innocence. “Just wanted to know if you’re doing the usual. Marking her, letting the pack see that you have claimed your mate.” He draws out the last word, giving it an edge. “Wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”