Page 3 of Broken Arranged Mate (Badlands Wolves #4)

If it weren’t for the Amanzite shortage, I would be doing this every single day.

The landscape flies by on either side of me, flashing past in a series of cacti, sand, and the odd snake, slithering out of my path at the last moment. As a human, I wouldn’t even consider it, but in this body, my brain tells me I could snap a snake up as a tasty snack.

Landon runs somewhere behind me, desperately trying to keep up.

I could slow down for him, but this is the first time in weeks that I’ve started to feel some of the tension leaving my body.

Lifting weights in my human form can only do so much—it’s in this body, infused with power, that I can work out the rage, simmering and dormant.

An emotion I refuse to even acknowledge on two feet.

This morning, I felt enough of it, saying goodbye to my mother, who still refuses to get out of bed, lying comatose, her eyes empty besides the occasional show of terror. Raegan told me, gently, that I might just look far too much like our father, that our mother flinched as an automatic response.

The idea made me sick enough to leave the room.

Now, I jump over a small cactus, landing back in the sand with a skid.

I’ve been studying the Grayhide territory since I was old enough to recognize a map.

While my father was never really a competent leader, he did like to travel, and I’d often accompany him on his trips, learning about each of the borders.

Of the four territories on our corner of the continent, we are the only landlocked area—Hysopp to our west, Ambersky to our north, and Llewelyn to our east all have access to the Edune sea, while we are strapped with the weight of three different borders to defend.

Hysopp mostly keeps to themselves, and that border is kept largely secure by the deep gorge running its length, cleaving the land cleanly into two distinct regions—ours sparse and sandy, theirs lush and green.

Several of my father’s books would posit that the Hysopp region deviates from the dry landscape due to the coven’s natural magic, but I’ve never heard of magic that strong.

Not even Veva Argent, the strongest caster in the Ambersky pack and the mind behind the synthetic Amanzite, could grow and maintain millions of acres of ancient trees on otherwise barren soil.

We face some threat from the Llewelyn pack to our east, who have been known to take in omegas from other packs.

From Landon and other shifters deeply involved in the Grayhide community, I’ve heard stories of omegas—and women, specifically—leaving our territory and making the journey through the treacherous, freezing tundra of the Llewelyn pack, just to find a society that would accept them.

The thought makes that rage rise up in me again, and I push harder against my burning muscles, running faster, faster , my paw pads hitting the searing earth for only a second before lifting again.

Around us, the scenery morphs from loose sand to packed, hard red stone, the trademark formations rising in the distance to signal our entry into the Ambersky territory.

There are several entry points we could use, but through the canyon is the most scenic, and that’s where Dorian said he would meet us, so that’s where we go.

As I run, I catch the faint echo of Landon behind me. I feel sorry for the kid and hope that he’s saving some of his energy for the way back. But with the supply of Amanzite looking how it does, this might be one of the few opportunities in which I can justify shifting.

Doing it only for pleasure would be selfish. I refuse to repeat my father’s mistakes, become the leader who takes from his pack for only his own enjoyment.

We reach the mouth of the canyon and find Dorian and his men there waiting for us. I shift back into my human form and find that I’m out of breath, which makes Emin—tall with the same copper hair as his sister, the luna—laugh.

“What?” he asks, clapping me annoyingly on the back. “You haven’t made that run in a while, huh?”

If we were following convention, it would be customary for me to address Dorian first, but the other alpha leader doesn’t look bothered by it, so I let it slide, too.

“Why don’t you and I have a race sometime?” I ask Emin, which makes Dorian laugh.

“Yeah, you should. He’s getting out of shape, sitting around watching movies all the time.”

“It’s once a week,” Emin defends, but he’s still laughing.

To my surprise, it’s not just Dorian and Emin present—Aidan is here, too, that familiar gray-blonde hair glinting in the early morning sun. He’s tanned and smiling broadly as usual. If the events in that ballroom have left a scar on him, he doesn’t show it.

“Hey, man,” he says, and instead of shaking my hand, he grabs it and pulls me into a hug, the kind where you bump chests, his free hand clapping against my back. I awkwardly return the favor.

“Hey,” I say, giving him a curt nod when he releases me.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that my discomfort with touch comes from a childhood of neglect in that area—I don’t need anyone to tell me. And I decided a long time ago that it wasn’t something worth exploring. It’s not like I’m just craving a lot of touch from strangers.

Or from anyone, for that matter.

A very small voice in the back of my mind adamantly tries to correct me on that, but I ignore it, squashing him without mercy under my boot.

There’s no time to think about that. Besides, there are a million reasons why it’s a terrible idea.

As Aidan and I are exiting our hug, Landon appears, heaving in a deep breath. This also makes Dorian let out a bark of laughter as I finally address him, giving his hand a firm shake.

“Shall we go?” I ask, dropping Dorian’s hand and glancing in the direction of the Ambersky city.

“Gods, Blacklock, give the kid a break.” Dorian glances over at Landon, who’s leaning against a rock and drinking from a flask of water, clearly trying to make it look like he’s not affected.

“Landon!” Aidan booms jovially, striding over and pulling the kid into a quick, ferocious hug that probably only makes it harder for him to breathe.

“Hey, Aidan,” Landon wheezes. “Thanks again for the job.”

“Thank Oren, not me,” Aidan grins, shooting me a look, then saying, “He couldn’t stop talking my ear off about how much he needed the help.”

That makes Emin laugh again. Already, I’m remembering this dynamic—I frown, and these guys laugh about it. To my surprise, it’s not a dynamic that I hate. At least it doesn’t require much participation from me.

We linger for a moment, and I listen to the three of them talk—mostly about the recent additions to their families, having pregnant wives, and the barbecue they’re planning next week.

It’s all very sweet. I ignore the way it makes my chest feel like a deep, dark pit.

“Kira was losing her mind at the end of that bed rest,” Dorian says, turning to me. “She got Veva to spend a bunch of time healing her up, and now she’s working out all that energy. All that to say—you’re definitely going home with a bunch of food when you leave, man.”

Normally, I would turn anything down that felt like too much of a favor, but I’ve had Kira’s cooking before, and even I can’t pass up another opportunity to take it.

Besides, I cut down the staff at the house significantly, and without a chef to make my meals, I’ve been eating mostly smoked elk and cans of green beans. If Kira saw it, she would fall over.

“We don’t have to wait for me,” Landon says, and, despite the fact that we’ve already done exactly that, none of us mentions it. Instead, we arrange ourselves, shift back to wolves, and take off for the city.

Dorian leads the pack—this is his territory, after all. I follow closely behind, with the other three behind us. Landon is still young and tired from the first half of our journey, so he runs behind. I can tell Dorian is running slow for his sake, and bite my tongue to keep from saying anything.

Not like I can, really. Our pack bonds are not with one another, so it’s not exactly natural to communicate in this form. Right now, the only person I can speak with is Landon, and the only thing I have to say to him is Hurry up .

I keep it to myself.

Nearly an hour later, we’re passing a motel on the edge of town, and Dorian slows, rounding us up and stopping at a collection of vehicles in the parking lot.

When we shift, I catch Emin glancing around, a strange look in his eyes, but I let it go, not wanting to pry.

“Alright,” Dorian says, clapping his hands. “Oren and Landon, why don’t you ride with me? Aidan, you can go with Emin.”

“Great,” Aidan says, jokingly. “He drives like a maniac.”

We climb into our vehicles, and Dorian chats with me amiably on the way to the pack hall. When I was here a year ago, I was taking notes. A pack hall. A council. All things not yet fully present in the Grayhide pack, obviously contributing to the state of things.

Ambersky’s pack hall is a simple, somewhat dated building. We file inside, me behind Dorian, Landon at my back. Just before we enter the meeting room, an older woman offers me a donut.

I decline.

Then, we’re walking into the room, and my entire body jolts at the sight of the woman sitting at the far end of the table, beside the Ambersky luna.

Ash Fields. Dorian’s sister, staring right at me with those big blue eyes.

Fuck .