Page 11 of Broken Arranged Mate (Badlands Wolves #4)
I’m five minutes from the border, mind occupied with the one thousand things I need to do, when I hear the first growl.
It comes hurling across the sand, traveling in the way sound does out here. Nothing to impede upon it, to stop it from reaching your ears as fully formed as it was when it left the lips of the speaker.
I hear the growl, and I know two things immediately—that was the growl of an Ambersky wolf, and I need to run .
Shifting, I dig into the sand with my paws, launching myself across the dunes, sand and dust flying up behind me. Normally, I would go out of my way to make sure I wouldn’t disturb the sand, but there’s no time now, and I can only hope it doesn’t slide down and bury me as I go.
Three minutes later, they come into view.
Four Ambersky wolves and three from Grayhide, circling one another and growling. The border between our territories might as well be drawn on the ground for how they adhere to the lines, stepping over and drawing back, growling louder when one or the other dips into the opposing area.
Stop!
I send the command to the Grayhide with such force that I watch when the word hits them, landing with a physicality that has them looking over their shoulders at me.
The other day, I hadn’t meant to compel Ash to use my power over her. But now, I tap into it fully, throw it at them, and hurl every ounce of leverage I have as their alpha leader.
Whether they want to acknowledge me as such or not.
Their hesitation gives the Ambersky wolves just enough time to attack, and one of them launches into the fray, breaking the control of my power. The wolves devolve into a scrap of teeth and claws, tumbling and fighting.
At least this violence is suspended somewhere between to-the-death and play—something like the casual hate of a sibling, that frustration that leads you to hit harder than you mean to.
Maybe—just maybe—the process of bringing Ash to my side is already working, dulling some of the aggression between the two groups.
I’m just diving into the middle of it, getting my teeth on the nape of one of the Grayhide alphas to pull him back, when I catch a familiar scent.
Dorian, Aidan, and Emin come flying over the sand dune, their teeth bared. Between the four of us, we’re able to pull the shifters apart without anyone dying.
A rare result for a fight like this.
I stand with my paw against the de facto leader of the group out here. Renegades, they think of themselves. Growling down at him, letting the spit dangle from my lips, I do my best to let out every ounce of hatred in my heart.
Pushing it out toward him, I infuse my stare with all the disdain I felt for my father. The hatred I feel for the shifters in the Grayhide pack keeps us frozen in this hell, not allowing us to repair and move forward.
You will stand down, I send to him, catching his whimper before it drifts away on the wind. If I find you on the border again, I will rip your throat from your neck. Do you have a family?
His eyes glint, and though he doesn’t nod, I know that he does. I can smell his mate, his children’s scent on him. Stop gallivanting out here, playing hero. Go home to your fucking children.
When I let him up, he kicks away, sending sand into the air, and his followers are hesitant before turning and going after them. Their fear is thick, palpable in the air, hanging there like humidity.
I can only hope it’s enough to truly sway them, convince them to stop wasting their time patrolling a border we no longer need to defend with violence.
“Take them back to the pack hall,” Dorian spits, his anger palpable in the cut of his voice.
He rips his shirt off over his head and uses it to wipe the sweat from his brow, spitting a bit of blood out onto the ground from where he caught a stray blow.
“Throw them into the cells. We’ll deal with them eventually. ”
Aidan and Emin take the Ambersky wolves away, and I’m left standing there with Dorian Fields, who spits again and looks at me, his expression unreadable.
“For both our sakes,” he mutters, after a long, pregnant pause, “I hope this marriage works out.”
***
I exhaust myself, working back through the borderlands twice before allowing myself to head back to the city. I’m still working on assembling a council, and I know that it’s probably not very smart for me to travel alone like this, but there’s nothing I can do about it.
Dorian has Emin, a friend from childhood, and Aidan, who has more than proven his loyalty. Besides my sister and mother—who could not do much to protect me in the case of an attack—I have nobody to travel with. No other shifter I trust to have my back.
A voice in the back of my head tells me that I could trust Wyn, that I’ve known him since we were kids, that I trust him to watch over my sister when I’m not away. But trusting him to be a decent man and trusting him with leadership of the pack—those are two different things.
I’m just rounding some of the largest dunes when I catch a scent on the wind that couldn’t possibly be present here.
Even though there’s no way she’s in this territory, I follow it, tracking it over the dunes and through valleys, across scrubby, patchy land with low-lying trees, until I come across the watchtower from the other day.
And the little blue SUV was parked right out front.
Anger and fear compound inside me as I shift back, bursting through the front door and racing up the stairs, practically shaking with fury.
How could she do something so stupid ? How could she come here, knowing the threat against her life? Without even asking me? And surely there’s no way her brother knows where she is.
“Ash—”
I cut off when a piece of wood flies at me, somehow catching me off guard and knocking the air right out of my lungs.
“ Oren ?” Ash cries, and I jump back when I realize she has a knife in her other hand, and she looks three seconds from using it on me.
How did I let my guard down like that? I press my back to the wall, reminding myself that this is precisely why I’d decided to stay away from her. When I’m near her, I can’t think straight, to the point of letting my fear cloud my judgment.
If I die, the Grayhide pack will never recover. It will descend into infighting and endless violence. I have to prioritize that over my feelings for her.
Even with this internal coaching, I stand tall, turn to her, and growl, “What are you doing here?”
Her brow wrinkles, and I resist the urge to reach forward, press a thumb to the lines that appear there, just between her eyes. She’s holding a tape measurer, wearing nothing but a pair of overalls and a lacy little bra, and my mouth goes dry, body suddenly alert.
I use the energy to stand up straight and avert my eyes from her before I do something I regret.
“I’m just taking some measurements for the wedding,” she says, nonchalantly, like she can’t believe I’m acting like this.
“Just—Ash, you can not be in this territory without some protection—”
She looks pointedly at the wood on the floor, the beam she used to hit me in the stomach. “Seems like you’re the one who needs protection.”
The growl that comes out of me is rough, half-formed. “Ash. This is not a fucking joke. There are guys out here who would rip you to pieces if they caught scent of you. In fact, I’m shocked they haven’t already—”
“Oh.” She looks disappointed. “My scent-blocker must have worn off.”
“I don’t even know what to say to that.” For being an alpha leader, I feel completely out of control when I’m near her, especially since she’s gone back to taking measurements, jotting little figures down in her spiral notebook.
Without thinking, I stalk over to her, take her by the shoulders, and turn her around to face me.
“Ash. Listen to me. You want to come out here, okay. But you tell me. And I will accompany you. I won’t be able to live with myself if something happens to you. Do you understand?”
I must look wild, because the expression on her face is open—eyes wide, lips slightly parted. Perhaps fear, or resignation. I can never read them quite clearly enough, and now more than ever, I wish I knew what was going on in her head.
Briefly, so fast I almost miss it, her eyes dart down to my lips, and the sight of it sends a ripple of electricity, awareness, through my entire body.
“Okay,” she rasps, pushing out of my arms and stepping back, her eyes anywhere but on mine as she wraps her arms around herself, like she’s cold. “I will. I’ll tell you if I decide to come.”
“Okay,” I parrot, wondering what the hell is wrong with me, and why I can’t tear my eyes away from her.
When she looks at me again, that expression from earlier is gone, replaced with something amused, a buoyant, casual disposition. “But if you’re going to be here,” she says, breezing past me and picking up a little laser level, pushing it into my hands, “then you’re going to help.”