Page 8 of Arranged Bullied Mate
I clench my fist automatically, and Jacob notices. “He’s not challenging you, not directly. But the impressionable ones, the ones who didn’t know your father, they’re listening.”
“Let me guess, he’s talking about my choice at the ceremony.”
Jacob nods. “He’s not using her name, but everyone knows who he means, that you’ve made a questionable decision given her family. Like, what other strange decisions will be coming once you’re officially alpha? Will you let traitors back in?” Jacob’s face is stony, disgust barely hidden. “He’s making it out like you couldn’t control yourself, and the council had to rubber-stamp your choice to avoid a scandal.”
I can practically hear Maddox saying it, his lazy, shit-eating drawl infecting the entire training field with doubt. I sigh, knowing we’re one step closer to a fight I wish Maddox didn’t seem intent on bringing. He’s respected, and honestly, I don’t want to start my tenure as alpha by destroying someone my father wanted in the pack. I roll the thought around in my head for a few moments before deciding.
“I will talk to Maddox privately, remind him of who is going to be alpha and his role in the pack,” I tell Jacob, “It’s been a conversation that we’ve been dancing around for too long. Hopefully, he’ll listen before it’s too late.”
Jacob nods, looking pensive. He knows the stakes of having an outright conversation with a wolf like Maddox. It could escalate into a full-blown challenge, or it may prompt him to reassess his current path and put an end to the trouble he’scausing. I hope it’s the latter; banishing a good, strong wolf is never the preferred option, even if he is a bit of a jerk.
If Maddox is stirring shit about Ava, he’s picking a battle he can’t win. I have enough frustration where she’s concerned, and I won’t hesitate to take it out on someone.
Chapter 6 - Ava
I glance at the piles of clothes on the bed and wince. I’ve made a complete mess in my attempt to find something to wear. With my heat coming, everything feels too rough, hot, or constricting.
All the options cling or chafe, or worse, smell like Ronan. I dig deeper, past the neat stacks of Emily’s donations, until I find the lightest thing I can—a pale blue sundress that is probably supposed to fit loosely, on someone lithe like her, but at least it fits at all. However, it clings to every curve and reveals far too much of my body. I remember seeing a darker cardigan somewhere and returning to the discarded pile of clothes on the bed, searching until I find the beautifully soft sleeves that should at least distract from my achingly heavy breasts.
I pull it on, settling the sleeves around my wrists, and glance in the mirror. The dress clings to my hips, and the cardigan does nothing to hide the size of my breasts. It only seems to draw even more attention to them. My hair is a mess, golden tangles that fall over my shoulders. I grab a brush, but I already know they will not be tamed despite my attempts.
There’s a knock at the door, and I startle, nearly dropping the hairbrush. Emily’s voice comes through, chirpy. “You decent?”
I hesitate before answering, “Yeah.”
She pops in, smiling at me, then holds up a paper bag with “MAISON D’ALPHA” scrawled on it in blue marker. “I brought you breakfast. Excited to get some fresh air? Ronan said it’s okay, if you want…so long as you’re with me.”
The words land heavily, but I nod, trying to mirror her enthusiasm. I am not stupid enough to think I have free rein,but it’s still more freedom than I expected. Maybe Ronan will have us watched, or maybe he just wants to prove to everyone that I can be trusted. Though he shouldn’t trust me, should he? My parents want me to kill him, after all, as ridiculous as that notion is. I would barely get a chance before he’d kill me. I’m an omega; even a beta wouldn’t stand a chance against an alpha like Ronan. Not that my parents probably care what happens to me. But what about Sophie?
The thought pulls me up short, and I have to fight to stop my dismay from showing on my face as I follow Emily toward the kitchen, where she sets out the breakfast pastries on some plates.
“I love that dress on you,” she smiles. “It always looked like a sack on me, but you’ve got the figure for it. You look amazing.”
I stare at her for a moment before glancing down at myself, trying to work out if she’s teasing me or just trying to be kind.
I stay silent for a moment until I can’t hold my thoughts in any longer. “I look like I’m about to burst out of it,” I say, and immediately regret the words, hearing the bitterness in my own voice.
But Emily doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even blink. She just shrugs, shoving a croissant at me, and says, “If you got it, flaunt it. I’d kill for that chest.”
She sounds so sincere that I almost believe her.
I’ve never felt comfortable in my own skin, least of all now, when every cell seems tuned to the possibility of exposure. The thought of stepping out, even with Emily beside me, is enough to make my pulse trip and stumble.
She doesn’t seem to notice, or if she does, she interprets my nerves as simple shyness. She chatters as she moves about the kitchen, crinkling wrappers and gesturing with her mug, never still. “We’ll start with the main street. Obviously, the pack knows you’re back, but if anyone gives you trouble, just let me know.” She gives me a look, equal parts conspiratorial and protective. “They’ll have to go through me first.”
I almost laugh at the absurdity of it. Emily is tall, but there’s nothing threatening about her. She’s pure sunshine in a world of shadows, and she doesn’t realize how easily people like her can be broken. The urge to warn her is sharp and bright on my tongue, but I swallow it. I don’t want to make her worry.
We eat in silence, or as close to silence as possible with Emily in the room. She narrates the day’s weather, the origin story of each pastry, and the latest pack drama with a breeziness that almost makes me forget the tension in my shoulders. When she finally leans back with a satisfied sigh, licking a smear of jam from her thumb, she looks over at me and says, “Are you ready?”
I want to say no, stay here and hide away, but instead I stand and smooth the front of my dress. The fabric stretches tight over my hips, and I have to remind myself not to tug at it awkwardly. “Where are we going?”
She grins. “You’ll see. It’s a little tour. You have to get reacquainted with home. A few of the buildings had to be completely rebuilt after the wildfire, so there’s lots to see, even a new park.”
I hadn’t realized the wildfire had been so bad, or so close to town. We’ve had plenty around here over the years, especially in the summer, but that must have been a big one if it actually reached town. I feel like I’ve been living in a vacuum ever since my family was banished and I discovered I was pregnant. Ifollow her out, the morning sun catching on my hair and making me squint. The air is thin and sharp, and the mountain chill hasn’t quite lifted. Emily leads us down the front steps and onto the main road that winds through the center of town. I say town, but really it’s always been more like a long, wide main street with a smattering of two-story buildings: a post office, a diner, a bar, a general store, and a cluster of older houses with wraparound porches. Looking now, though, even at this distance, I see what Emily means. Some of the older buildings have been completely rebuilt, and the result is stunning. Beautifully painted shutters and fresh flowers line the old main street. I spot a bakery with the same name as the bag of treats Emily brought for breakfast.
It’s a weekday, so the sidewalks are mostly empty, but the few people out notice us right away. Emily waves at everyone she sees with an air of confidence, her hair shining in the sun. She’s practically a local celebrity, and the pack’s affection for her is obvious. Even the old wolves sitting outside the general store call out her name and wave. “Morning, Emily, you keeping your brother out of trouble?”
Their eyes flicker past me, some briefly assessing me, others seeing straight through me. I feel the thump of it every time it happens. It’s a studied avoidance, an almost polite refusal to see me. Even though there are no raised voices or open hostility, the absence is somehow louder. It’s not until we pass a new clothing store that I catch a pair of women watching me with a mixture of pity and something sharper. They don’t even try to hide their conversation, just lower their voices and continue staring.