Page 1 of Bullied Alpha Bride (Wolfshade Brides-for-Hire #2)

The intoxicating, smooth scent of bourbon floods my nostrils as I raise the shot glass to my lips. I toss back the amber liquid in one gulp and wince as I put the glass down on the bar with an emphatic tap.

The bartender looks up at the sound and gives me a little nod, letting me know he’ll be over to refill my glass when he swings back this way. I nod back, lowering my eyes to the polished wood of the bar so I don’t make eye contact with anyone else.

I tap my fingers lightly on the glossy surface, trying not to show my agitation.

I’ve been running so hard, and for so long, I thought exhaustion would have brought me down by now.

But my blood is still sizzling with fear, making my muscles jerk involuntarily, as if my whole body is begging me to run.

I have to rest. I will die if I don’t.

The bartender taps the bottle against the glass as he fills it, giving me a brief salute before moving on again. He knows I’m not here to talk and has dutifully kept the drinks coming.

Bartenders are so good at recognizing trauma, they should probably be therapists.

I know I’ve got to stop, and soon. I simply can’t afford to keep drinking.

The last of my cash is in my pocket, and it’s not much.

When I fled from Grace’s Fall, there was nothing to bring with me.

I didn’t own a single thing in this world.

Not my clothes, my bed, or my room. Every cent I earned was taken from me.

For as long as I can remember, all I’ve been able to claim is my own body.

Pain lances through me, an emotional blow so strong, it makes my eyes water. I take a tiny sip of the Jack, trying to numb myself, but it doesn’t work. I feel worse, and my lip is trembling as I try to hold back my sorrow.

Even my own body doesn’t belong to me anymore.

I slip off the bar stool and head into the shadows, sitting in a dark corner up the back of the bar. I have no idea where I’m going to go or what I’m going to do. I just want to get out of sight for a few minutes and pray that I don’t break down.

I have to keep going. A bit further northeast, and I’ll hit the border. Then they can’t come after me.

Through the slight haze of the alcohol, the truth penetrates. They absolutely will follow me across the border; I know they will. I also know that the rough country I’ve just crossed is nothing compared to what I’ll face if I keep going in this direction.

The run so far has almost killed me… but every moment I stop to rest gives them a chance to catch up.

My fingers tighten on the glass as I take another sip. Instead of calming me down, the alcohol seems to be making my anxiety worse, churning my guts into frothy waves of panic.

Great. Now I’m sick as well as dead tired and sore. As escape plans go, this wasn’t exactly smart.

I tilt the glass, swallowing the last of the shot. There was no way I could have planned better or done anything different. When I ran away from home, I did it in complete, utter panic, with no thought at all.

I remember the usual routine at home: Father would walk into the house, very late as usual.

Then came an ordinary evening of verbal abuse and general degradation.

Usually, I’d listen quietly, say “Yes, sir,” and wait for him to pass out.

Then I could sleep a little before the routine began again—cleaning the house, working at the factory, making his dinner, and getting yelled at the whole time that none of it was good enough.

On the night I left, Father entered the house with a big smile on his face. It was truly the most terrifying thing I’d ever seen. The twisted snarl and ice-cold eyes were such a permanent fixture on him.

And everyone fears him. The whole pack does. There’s only one person in the pack anywhere near as scary as my father.

Vince.

A shudder runs through my body, and my throat burns with the edge of all the alcohol I just drank. I shake my head a little, trying to swallow my disgust.

I can’t ever let that fucker touch me! I’ll die first!

My mind strays back to fleeing over the border, and suddenly, that looks far more attractive than potentially getting caught. The idea of the pack finding my frozen body begins to have real appeal.

Then neither of those men can have me.

My father, pack alpha of Grace’s Fall, promised me to Vince, the son of his beta. Since my mother died, I’ve lived with Father in the small town under Logging Peak. We fled from him when I was very young because my mother couldn’t stand to see the abuse he rained down on her overflow onto me.

She kept me safe for years, until I almost forgot about him and the horrors we fled from. Eventually, my father hunted us down and reclaimed me, dragging me back to Grace’s Fall.

From the moment I arrived, I was a slave. I did try to run a couple of times, but the punishments were so bad, I stopped trying.

It was only the utter terror of being promised to Vince that gave me the strength to finally escape.

It didn’t hurt at all that Father was drunker than usual on this particular night.

He’d celebrated a long while with other pack members at the bar, then staggered home to give me the “good” news.

He felt so secure about his hold on me that he passed out on the couch, leaving his bedroom door wide open.

Right after he passed out, I went through his room, finding any cash and valuables I could easily carry.

As I fled the house, the dark trees seemed to reach for me, drawing me into the shadows of the forest. I broke a clear—but false—trail to the south, then swam through the river before changing direction and heading north.

I stopped in Gryphon Eyrie because it’s the last town before the border.

If I want to keep going northeast, that is.

I can’t go south or southwest—that would take me back towards Grace’s Fall. Further up Lycan Pass is Cyan Lock, and beyond that, Quartz Key.

I have friends in both places, but a cold rush of anxiety floods through me at the thought of setting foot in either of those towns.

I can’t go there, either.

The fear I feel at the idea of returning to Cyan Lock is almost worse than getting caught by my father.

Trapped on every side. Slavery, degradation… or death. Great choices.

I hang my head, feeling hopelessness taking me over. It’s like sinking into a frozen lake, slowly going down into the darkness, the light vanishing over your head as the ice steals your soul.

I’m ready. I’m doing this.

I take a few deep breaths, savoring the warmth of the bar before I take myself out into the cold. I’ll race the wind, challenge the snow, and become one with the mountain itself.

And if I can’t survive as a wolf out there… I’ll die, and it will still be better than going back or getting caught.

Father was never shy about using his fists if he felt his words weren’t enough. More than once, I wore bruises as evidence of his fury. Vince is worse—far worse—and I know from the way he looks at my body, the torture he visits upon me will be more creative than a simple beating.

Wow. You know your life is fucked when “creative” and “torture” show up in the same sentence.

I’m just about to stand up and head towards the bar when a bright giggle behind me cuts through my thoughts. I’m sure the sound is familiar, and the last thing I want to do is alert someone connected to the pack where I am.

Everyone is afraid of Father. Giving me to him would ensure his good favor, and deflect his violence and cruelty from them.

I sit frozen, my head down, as the giggles go on.

“You get the next round, you sly bitch! I just paid for two in a row.”

“Uh-uh. I got the last one.”

“You did not!”

“Totally did. You’re just too drunk.”

“Krista!” the bright, bubbly voice giggles some more. “I hate when you do this!”

“No, you don’t,” Krista laughs. “You fucking love me, Winnie.”

“You’re right, I do,” Winnie answers, and I hear more laughter as they hug.

Winnie!

What the hell is she doing all the way down here?

Shock has sucked all the breath out of my lungs. I waver in my seat, willing myself to breathe, to calm down, and not faint.

If I hit the fucking floor, they’ll notice me. And Winnie’s such a busybody, she’ll be all up in my shit!

My heart twists, a deep ache spreading through my chest. Winnie is a sweetheart—a loving, funny girl who enjoys having a good time and making her brother’s life a living hell. If she saw me and tried to interfere, she’d believe she was doing it to help me.

And all she’d be doing is putting herself on the firing line.

I duck my head a little, turning to face the wall.

I look different than how I did years ago when I left Cyan Lock, and I have to hope that’s enough to hide me.

Wolves can identify each other by smell, of course, but to hunt me down in a room full of shifters, magicians, witches, and half-breeds, Winnie would need to purposefully search for my scent.

And even then, the thick fumes of alcohol would make it pretty difficult.

There is a slight crash behind me as glasses fall against each other, followed by more laughter.

“Hey! I got the damn drinks. Don’t spill them!”

“Why is everything always my fault?” Krista sighs. “You’re the one who just slammed them into the table. Quit blaming me.”

“I never blame you, Krista. Except when it’s your fault. Which is always.”

They laugh some more, and a horrible sense of loss twists my guts.

I’ll never have this. Friends, fun nights out, just enjoying myself without a care in the world. I spent the last three years trapped by Father… and I forgot this kind of life existed.

Even though it hurts, I shut down my heart. I’m going into the wilderness. It’s the only way to make sure I don’t put anyone else in danger.

But I can’t leave yet. I can’t take the risk they’ll recognize me. I’ll have to wait until they move.

I tuck myself into the shadows at the corner of the table, staying out of sight. The last thing I want to do is listen in on their conversation, but there’s no way to stop myself from hearing it.

“So, how’s your cutie brother? Is it true he got married?” Krista asks.

“Yeah, he did,” Winnie answered. “To Clara. They have a son. His name’s Nico.”

“Clara? You mean that weirdo that went to high school with you? She had no shifter gene or something.”

“Or something,” Winnie agrees. I hear the telltale gurgle of a straw chasing around the bottom of a glass.

“Definitely your shot now!” Winnie says.

Krista scoffs. “I will. But first, tell me the goss on your brother! He said he’d never get married.”

“Well, I might have forced him into it,” Winnie answers, sounding bemused.

“Get out of town!”

She laughs. “I found this thing online, for Porter’s brides-for-hire service. I signed him up and dared him to go. He couldn’t resist proving his manhood to me, just like I knew he would. I thought it would be a fun joke—maybe lighten him up a bit. I never dreamed it would actually work out.”

“So… wait, wait. There’s a brides-for-hire agency, taking in lost women and matching them with hot, sexy alphas?”

“Hot, sexy alphas who can’t get a date,” Winnie corrects solemnly. “They have to be utterly useless at talking to girls, too, I assume.”

Krista bursts out laughing, and Winnie does, too. My breath is caught in my chest again, but this time I’m not scared—I’m excited.

Keep talking, girls.

“How did you find it?” Krista asks.

“I was browsing through dating apps. Half-heartedly for myself, but ultimately planning something to hit Galen with. Then this pink pop-up blinked on the screen. I thought it would fold immediately when I put in our details, but the chatbot opened, and it turns out Miss Porter actually knows about the magical world. She’s one of us. ”

“Holy fucking wow,” Krista mutters. “Talk about unexpected.”

“I know, right! I was even more determined for Galen to go through with it, then. I just had this feeling, you know?”

“I don’t know… but you’re going to tell me everything!”

The girls’ voices slip away as I pull out my phone. As I stare at the screen, the noises of the bar fade to a low rumble, and I can’t see anything except the bright screen. I flick my thumb across the screen to hit the search bar.

Porter’s…

Are you looking for Porter’s brides-for-hire?

In disbelief, I tap the link, and a pink pop-up appears.

What the fuck am I doing?

I pause for a moment to think. I’m running away because I don’t want to be forced into marriage, but Vince is a brute. The slavery I experienced at Father’s hands would be twice as bad with Vince. Not to mention, he’d probably keep me pregnant the whole time.

A shudder runs through me as I think about how that would happen. Vince creeps me out—he’d creep anyone out—but I can tell by the way he looks at me that physical encounters with him come with a heavy dose of pain.

Hello!

The chatbot opens by itself, the way some of them do if the screen is idle for a minute.

Hi , I type back.

Are you looking to be a bride for hire in Lycan Pass? We have many eligible bachelors waiting for a match, and all of them have been approved through our very strict standards. The safety of our brides is our highest priority!

That’s good , I reply, still skeptical.

Would you like to fill out an application? If you’re approved, we can send a first deposit to your account of choice—even before you’ve found a match! We want you to be well cared for from the get-go!

I think about the thirty bucks I have left in my pocket and just go straight to the application. I fully expect to be declined, so I go through it without much enthusiasm. Around me, the bar is getting quieter and darker as the hour grows late and people leave to go home.

I don’t have a fucking home. I can’t even remember what that feels like.

Thanks for giving us your information! I see your location is Gryphon Eyrie. The chat resumes immediately after I submit the form, and I stare at the screen for a moment, slightly creeped out.

Wait… I tapped “accept” to use my current location. Calm down, Lexa, they aren’t psychic.

Yes , I type back.

You’re approved for our match-making process! A starting fee will be deposited into your nominated account immediately. We’d like you to stay in Gryphon Eyrie for now, because a potential match is nearby. Does that sound okay to you?

I think about how I don’t want to stay still for too long in case my father and Vince catch up to me.

But if I’m married when they get here, they can’t fucking do anything! This is way better than slinking off into the snow and dying!

I’ll stay , I type back.

Excellent! I’ll text you with the next details as soon as I have them. Glad to have you on board, Lexa!

Still wondering what the hell I’ve done, I signal to the bartender. He should know of a cheap place to stay nearby.

I need to get settled in as quickly as possible, so I can spend the next ten hours agonizing over the decision I’ve just made.