Page 17 of Arranged Bullied Mate

“That’s the problem,” I say, more bitter than I intend.

Jacob sits up, his elbows on his knees. “You’re not supposed to be your father, Ronan. You’re supposed to be better. That’s the point, isn’t it?” He wipes at the sweat streaking his brow. “You’re going to be a great alpha. The pack knows it. The council knows it, even if they act like it’s still up for debate. Maddox is just…noise. He’s always been noise.” He gives me a sidelong look, one eyebrow raised in challenge. “Don’t let him crawl under your skin so deep you forget what you’re actually fighting for.”

I want to snap back, to argue, but the truth is that I’m tired. Tired of my own doubts and the way they keep circling, never quite settling. I stare at the water until the surface stills again, then exhale. “Yeah. I know.”

Jacob stands and stretches his back with a groan. “You want to run the ridge before heading back?” he asks, but I see the way his eyes flicker toward the tree line, the way his wolf is already restless.

I shake my head, already feeling the draw of home, the anxious knot of pheromones and unfinished business waiting for me there. “Not today. I need to check in on Ava.”

“Sure you do,” he chuckles, and I’m about to snap back, but he’s already on his feet and taking off back along the trail. My wolf growls, determined not to let Jacob best me on the downward trail.

By the time I reach the house, my pulse is steady, but the second I shove open the door, it slams back into overdrive.

Ava’s scent is everywhere. Not just in the subtle, ever-present way that’s been saturating the baseboards for a week, but in a way that hits like a wall—a raw, dizzying musk, edged sharp with need. Her heat is ramping up; in fact, I think it’s already here. I freeze in the foyer, hands fisted, and force myselfto breathe through my nose, counting backwards from ten. It doesn’t help; if anything, it just burns the scent deeper into my brain.

I should just go find her. Take her. Be done with it, regardless of what she wants or what she’s hiding.

I ball my hands into fists. If I go looking for her right now, I’m going to do something I’ll regret—or worse, something I won’t regret at all. So, I kick off my boots and stalk to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.

The cold shower is a shock, but not enough of one to cool the fire building inside me. I brace my hands on the tiles, letting the water pound my back. I’m so hard I could break stone, but I force myself to focus on my breathing, trying to ignore my rock-hard cock. Sure, I could stroke myself into oblivion on her scent alone, but I already know it would offer no meaningful relief.

I don’t know how long I stand there, letting the water run cold over my skin, but eventually the desire to see her outweighs the urge for self-control. I dry off, wrapping the towel around my waist, and step into the hall. The air is still thick with her scent, but it’s shifted. It’s no longer as sharp, as if she’s moved further away. The realization sends a jolt through my wolf. Where the hell is she?

I stalk through the house. Her scent leads to the kitchen, then out—out? I follow the pull of her pheromones through the door to the back deck. I push it open and catch sight of her in the late afternoon light, sitting on the edge of the deck with her knees hugged to her chest, hair spilling golden and wild down her back. She’s in a thin dress, no cardigan this time, and the way it clings to her body is obscene. I immediately regret my decision to allow her the freedom to go outside.

She doesn’t flinch when I step outside, just lifts her chin and looks at me, eyes defiant but sad at the same time, with something left unsaid.

“What the fuck are you doing out here?” I snap, and the words come out louder than I intend.

She doesn’t even blink. “I needed air,” she says, and now I see the goosebumps prickling her arms and the flush on her cheeks. “You can’t keep me locked inside like an animal.”

I stalk across the deck, the boards creaking under my weight. “You’re in heat, Ava.” I enunciate each word, like maybe she’s too stupid or stubborn to understand. “Do you want every unmated wolf in a mile radius to scent you and come running?”

She laughs, but the sound is one of anger, not amusement. “Let them. They can control themselves, can’t they?” The muscles in her throat flex, like she’s forcing the words out through a bottleneck. “Surely they wouldn’t challenge the alpha, anyway?”

I step closer, towel barely holding together at my hips, and her eyes flick down just for a second before snapping back up, full of challenge. “You think they can control themselves?” I glare at her, letting my wolf show in my eyes. “You think I can?”

Her jaw works, and for a moment, I see the flicker of uncertainty before she doubles down. “You already proved you can,” she says, the words sharp as glass. “You left me unclaimed the other night, after all.”

The memory hits like a blow. The way her throat stretched tight around the width of my cock, the sweet, strangled whimpers as I held her head down and seeded her mouth, the taste of her slick and her tears, and the humiliation that made her even softer, even hungrier. I’d left her trembling, dripping,desperate for more. I’d told her I was just taking the edge off her heat, but the truth is, it’d only stoked the flames even more.

The wolf in me howls at the memory, claws at my ribs, demanding I finish what I started. That I claim her, right here, right now, where the whole world can hear her scream my name.

I’m not even aware I’m moving until it’s too late to stop. One second, I’m glaring down at her; the next, my hands are fisted in her hair and I’m pulling her to her feet. She yelps, but the sound is all but lost as I slam my mouth against hers. She tastes unbelievably sweet as her mouth parts slightly under mine in a way that’s half invitation, half surrender. My grip tightens in her hair, tilting her head back so I can devour her, teeth scraping hard enough to draw blood from her lower lip. She moans into my mouth, and the vibration runs straight to my cock.

The towel is gone, lost somewhere on the deck, and I’m so hard it’s almost a threat. I grab the hem of her dress and yank it up, not even bothering with gentleness. She squeaks, but doesn’t resist, her hands coming up to my chest as if to push me away, but doing nothing of the sort. The fabric rides up over her hips, exposing the lush, perfect curve of her ass and the sticky gloss of slick running down her thighs, the sight of which nearly ends me there and then.

I turn her and push her forward, bending her over the railing so her hands brace against the cool wood. She looks back at me, eyes wide and wild, her lips parted, and her entire body trembling with anticipation. She’s not afraid, not of me and not of this. If anything, she’s daring me to take it further, to do everything I’ve threatened and more.

I line myself up behind her, the head of my cock slipping against the wet, swollen lips of her cunt. She shivers, her wolf begging for it, every muscle in her body taut with need. Idon’t wait—my body remembers how good she felt and is more desperate than ever to feel itself inside her again. I push inside her in one sharp, brutal stroke, burying myself to the hilt. The sound she makes is half sob, half moan, and it echoes off the trees, wild and raw. She clutches at the railing as if bracing herself. The sight of her bent over and offered up to me on the deck is so obscene, so perfect, that for a moment I almost lose myself completely.

I thrust again, harder, and her ass shudders against my hips, the wet heat of her cunt clenching down like nothing I’ve ever felt. All those perfect, compliant omegas I’d sampled over the years…none of them came close to this. No one came close to my memories of Ava. I grab her shoulders and pull her back onto me, using her body to fuck myself deeper, harder, until the sound of her cries is almost drowned out by the slap of flesh and the low, guttural snarls that pour from my own chest.

She’s soaked, her slick pouring down her legs, and my cock slides in and out of her so easily that I nearly forget to hold back. The urge to knot her is overwhelming, the base of my cock already swelling, but the more my wolf demands it, the more unsure I feel. I block it out, my hands roaming up her body, gripping her waist, then sliding up under the dress to free her tits. They’re even bigger than when we were younger, heavy and perfect, and I squeeze them with both hands, not caring if I’m being rough.

I grind my hips and force her open, her tits heavy in my hands as I knead and twist them. She shudders, her voice desperate and breaking. I remember the first time I took her, years ago, how she’d gasped and sobbed and clung to me, her body so tight and sweet it nearly broke me. I’ve never forgotten it, never found another omega who made me feel so alive, or soout of control. With her bent and bared to the world, nothing else compares.

I can’t keep my hands off her, sliding from her tits to her hips to her throat, yanking her back onto my cock. I barely recognize my own voice as it spills out in snarls and curses, the urge to claim her more than I can stand.