Page 18 of Arranged Bullied Mate

My knot threatens, swelling at the root, and the idea of locking myself inside her, pumping her full of cum, drives me wild. I should just let it happen and breed her, but something in me resists, a last flicker of control. The doubts about her intentions and her unusual behavior since her return persist. An omega should be exhilarated to be chosen. She’s not fertile yet—I’d be able to smell it. Sensing I have more time to figure out her intentions, I wait until I feel the knot beginning and jerk back as she howls in protest. I pull free, fisting my cock and painting her back and ass with ropes of cum. She shudders beneath me, her body clamping down around nothing, an empty sensation that makes her sob in frustration. The sound of it is so raw, so wounded, that for a split second, I hate myself for holding back.

But my wolf is too sharp, too suspicious. He wants her marked, bred, but some deeper, more wounded part of me can’t let go of the thought that she doesn’t really want it. She got on that stage but hasn’t seemed happy about being chosen. I lean closer and whisper, “I’ll give you the knot when you’re ready for pups and show me you really want it.”

A small sob escapes her, but despite her heat, she doesn’t beg; omegas are born for this. She’s clearly fighting it hard. The question is, why?

Chapter 12 - Ava

The house has felt riddled with tension ever since Ronan took me on the deck yesterday. He knows something’s up, and he clearly doesn’t trust me. He’s right not to, really. My parents would have expected me to try to kill him as he fucked me, as if he wouldn’t have just ripped my throat out if I’d tried. Their plan is ridiculous, and worst of all, I’m sure they realize it’s a long shot; they just don’t care.

What will happen to Sophie if I die? Would my parents raise her or discard her?

Thisis why I have to fight my heat. I have to escape. I grip the glass of water I’ve just poured in the kitchen, my fingers trembling around the glass as I mentally run through my options, none of which are viable. It’s becoming increasingly hard to even think. My heat is thick and all-consuming. Ronan said I’m not fertile yet, but I’m not so sure. I can’t believe this isn’t even the peak yet.

I know it would be easier if he completed the marking, if we gave in to our nature, and he bred me. There are perfectly happy alpha and omega relationships where they embrace the heat cycle and happily fuck through the process, breeding pups, building families…that’s not my reality.

If I can just get through the heat, Ronan will give me more freedom, and I’ll have a clear head again and be able to get away. That’sifI’m not pregnant. He’d never let me get away if I were pregnant with his pup.

I’m bent over the sink, trying to breathe through another spike of fever, when I sense Ronan behind me. The air shifts, dense with him, and my wolf both cowers and presses closer at once.

“How are you feeling?” His voice is surprisingly quiet, almost cautious, like he’s approaching a wounded animal.

I don’t answer. He can see the answer in the sweat shining on my arms, my hair plastered to my neck, the way my thighs tremble beneath my light dress. He leans past me and twists the tap off, then retrieves a glass from my hand and sets it aside.

“You’re burning up.” His hand hovers near my shoulder but doesn’t touch. “You need something to bring the temperature down.”

I snap, “Why do you care?” The words come out rawer than I really mean, and for a second, I think I see a flicker of hurt in his eyes. But it’s gone too fast to be sure.

He seems to take a breath, as though he’s gathering a level of patience I haven’t seen from him before. “I don’t want you delirious, Ava. I hear the heat can drive omegas crazy.” He steps back, arms crossed over his chest, thinking. “There’s a place we can go. The river’s cold as hell this time of year. Might do you some good.”

I blink at him. “The river?” It’s a concept so foreign, so outside the obvious boundaries of my current existence, that I almost laugh. “You’d let me out of the house?”

He shrugs, but his gaze is sharp, measuring. “Most of the men are out on patrol rotation today. There’ll be no one there. And I’ll be with you. No one will bother us.” There’s a quiet challenge in the way he says it, as though he’s daring me to look for an escape route, but also promising I won’t need one.

I nod cautiously, and he waits a beat, as if half-expecting me to change my mind. When I don’t, he nods once, businesslike, and says, “Get changed. I’ll grab towels.”

I have nothing to swim in. The clothes Emily brought are mostly dresses or shorts and T-shirts, but there’s a sports bra and a pair of black briefs that will have to do. I feel almost unsteady as I walk down the front steps; my heat is heavier than ever today, and the change from just a few days ago is palpable. The thought of throwing myself into a cold river feels more and more like a good idea the closer we get. It’s not a long drive, but I’m grateful Ronan didn’t suggest walking; I’m not sure I could in my state.

Ronan drives us through town, and he’s right, it is extra quiet today. We take the road past the sawmill and out along the old logging roads that lead toward the riverbank. The truck’s windows are down, the air snapping at my skin, but I’m so feverish it feels like a relief. Ronan drives with one hand curled on the wheel, his other drumming restlessly on his knee. He doesn’t speak, and the silence is thick but not hostile, just loaded.

The river is exactly where I remember it from childhood, but everything else is changed. The old access road was once overgrown and barely accessible, but now it’s pristine, complete with parking and a covered seating area. The river beyond is just as heartbreakingly beautiful as I remember. A pale ribbon of sand curves out beneath a cliff face, the water glassy and blue and so cold it burns just looking at it. The autumn air feels crisp, and the leaves are already golden, but the water pulls at me, promising relief.

Ronan parks on the flat gravel and kills the engine. The quiet here is so absolute it’s as if the whole forest is listening, even though there’s no one else here. He gets out, stretches, and then circles to open my door like it’s something he knows he’s supposed to do, even if playing caretaker doesn’t appear to come naturally.

“Thanks,” I mumble, not wanting to accept his outstretched hand for fear of how much worse the contact will make me feel.

He doesn’t push, only says, “You should get in first. I’ll set the stuff up.” And then, “I’ll stay where you can see me.” Like I’m half-wild and unable to think straight. I’m not sure whether to be offended or grateful.

I walk toward the bank, the sand already cold under my bare feet, and strip down to the bra and briefs. Ronan’s eyes are on me the entire time, even though he pretends to be busy unpacking the bag. I know exactly what I must look like. My skin is flushed with the fever, hair falling down my back, thighs pale and soft, every curve exaggerated by heat and need. I’m not sure if I want him to keep watching or not, but I don’t look away. If anything, I want to see what I do to him. His chest rises and falls a touch faster, and the muscles in his jaw work as he seems to try to keep his expression neutral.

The water is so cold my feet cramp instantly, but I grit my teeth and wade in, slow and deliberate, so as not to make a scene. It’s only when the water reaches my hips that the shock truly hits, a deep ache that cuts through the fog of heat and brings me some welcome relief.

I watch Ronan’s shadow on the sand as he shakes out a blanket and weighs the corners down with rocks, then digs around in the bag before producing some drinks and what looks like snacks. His actions surprise me more than I could have imagined. The thought that he would be so thoughtful is so at odds with his usual demeanor these days that I can’t help staring. It reminds me of the picnic he made for me years ago—back when I was fooling myself that he actually cared about me. We’d talked about all our favorite foods before, listing the best sandwich fillings, cakes, and drinks. I’d never imagined it was sohe could put together the perfect surprise. It was so thoughtful, I never could have imagined I’d lose him only days later when my family was banished. Watching him now on the shore, the whisper of our youthful connection feels so close to the surface. I barely even notice that the water around me seems to be warming, allowing me to sink further into it.

I kick off slightly, letting the water carry me, but never turning my back on the shore. On Ronan. Apparently happy with his setup on the beach, he strips off his T-shirt and boots with the easy confidence of a man who’s done it a thousand times before, then shucks his jeans, standing in nothing but black boxer briefs that cling to his thighs and hips like a second skin. The scars he carries across his chest and arms are more visible in the daylight, some thin and silvery, others are thicker and knotted, intermingling with the many tattoos that cover most of his upper chest. He is, quite literally, the most intimidating man I’ve ever seen. Even with his feet bare in the sand, he’s all power and hard edges.

He doesn’t hesitate before wading in, seemingly unaffected by the cold. I’m not ready for him to join me, but he doesn’t slow his advance. He doesn’t break his powerful stride through the icy water until he stops only an arm’s length away, water swirling around his waist, arms crossed over his chest—silence, but not the easy kind. There’s a tension radiating from him, as if he’s debating whether to say something or not.

Finally, he sighs, scanning me, appraising. “You look better already. The cold helps, huh?”