Page 8 of Bullied Pretend Mate (Silverville Firefighter Wolves #3)

I have a whole speech prepared for Maeve—along with an apology and some groveling over how our friendship fell apart in high school.

But much of that exists in my brain the moment I see her standing at the door, looking even better than she did last night. Her scent overwhelms me, and it’s like I’m a starving man walking into a bakery, unable to do anything while surrounded by the aroma of bread.

She gives me a careful, somewhat withering look.

It occurred to me last night that Maeve might have said no to my plan because she’s still mad about what an asshole I was in high school, dropping her to be friends with the guys instead.

I avoided her and let her sit alone at lunch, even though it made me sick to my stomach.

Since then, I’ve realized that a lot of teenagers are assholes, and a lot of childhood friendships end, but I am sorry.

And I came here fully prepared to apologize to her for it.

I can’t skip those weddings, and there’s no way I can come up with an excuse for missing each and every one—and I don’t want to upset or disappoint my parents. But I also definitely do not want to go with Annette.

So I figured I’d need to come and grovel to Maeve.

I’m wearing my get-up from the firehouse, which usually helps when I’m talking to women, but it’s like Maeve doesn’t even notice.

In fact, she doesn’t waste any time—or give me a chance to launch into my speech. Instead of closing the door in my face like I thought she might, she grabs me by my arm and pulls me into her rental place.

It reminds me of that day in the hallway, when I spotted her coming and acted before I really knew what I was doing. I remember the way it felt to finally press my body to hers. The way it felt to bury my face in the crook of her neck and breathe in that intoxicating, winding scent.

“Okay,” she says, already starting to pace, reaching back and pulling her hair up off her neck. It’s a gesture so familiar to me that it takes my breath away for a second—I’ve really been pushing down how much I missed her, all these years.

“Okay,” she repeats, and I take a seat on the edge of her bed, watching her pace.

If I thought the scent of her was strong at my place, being here is like walking into a perfume store, a thick wall of it that folds me in and nearly swallows me up.

I feel like a cartoon character, eyes swirling and growing larger, like just her scent is enough to hypnotize me. I grip the bedsheets under my hands tighter, just for something to tether me down so I don’t float away with it.

“Okay.” Maeve turns to me, swallows, and crosses her arms, which only draws my eyes to her ample chest. It’s my turn to swallow as she says, “I’ll do it.”

“Perfect,” I say, sighing out the tension I’ve been carrying since the phone call with my mother this morning. “You’ll see, this is going to work out—”

“Not so fast,” she says, holding a finger up to me. “We need to make some rules.”

“Alright.” That sounds like Maeve, and it puts me at ease that she hasn’t changed that much in the decade we’ve been apart, even if she looks a lot different on the outside.

“First, we have to make this convincing. Can you work two public dates into your schedule?”

“I don’t know if you heard, but there haven’t been any fires in months. My schedule is wide open.”

“Great. Okay, so two public dates every week. So people in the pack can see us. And I think we should also do—what, three sleepovers?”

The sound of that sets my blood on fire, and I have to fight to keep myself seated on the bed. My wolf is confused, appealing to me, pointing out that a beautiful woman is right here in front of me and we’re alone in a room together, and yet I’m doing nothing to have her.

I push the feeling away, forcing myself to remain present. “That sounds fine.”

“And…” She pauses, and I know she’s getting to that part that makes my body buzz, the thing that consumes my mind. The part of this that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since she first brought it up in the elevator.

“I have to mate with an alpha.”

I am an alpha. And the mating part—well, that’s the part I can’t stop thinking about. Biting her, getting my teeth on her skin.

For humans, something like this would hurt. But there’s something about shifter anatomy that makes a mating bite pleasant, even pleasurable. I’ve heard stories of omegas who had their first orgasm from the mating bite, like their bodies required it to unlock the feeling.

That thought has me looking at Maeve, wondering if she’s had her first orgasm. Who it was with. How many other people has she been with since leaving Silverville?

Thinking about that does nothing to calm my wolf.

“We have to figure out the marking.” Maeve finally finishes, a flush high on her cheeks, her eyes bright and practically shining. Everything about this moment feels enhanced, all the colors deeper, all the emotions pounding through me twice as potent.

“Right,” I manage, but my throat is so thick, I barely get the word out. I’m holding myself perfectly still, afraid that if I move too suddenly, she might realize this is a mistake.

I don’t think it’s a mistake. But I’m shocked Maeve is going through with it.

“What changed your mind?” I ask because if I keep talking about the mark, it’s going to drive me insane.

She looks at me hard for a moment, then swallows. “I want to start a clothing line. Based on my brand. But I need the money for some equipment and fabric to send over samples to a major retailer.”

“Oh, shit.” It’s a lame thing to say, but it’s all I can manage. I should have known Maeve was going to make something of herself when she left this town. “What retailer?”

“Hollerand.”

“Oh, shit .” I suck in an approving breath, nodding and thinking about the high-end store. There’s one in Denver, and my mom has been making the trip down the mountain just to shop there. “That’s really cool, Maeve.”

“I know. The only problem is, I need money to actually get it done. And after the samples, they’re going to want to know that I can keep up with demand. I might even need to hire people to help me sew the pieces.”

I stand, eyes intent on her. It’s not just her body, but the fact that she’s managed all this. That Maeve might just be the coolest thing to come out of Silverville. My wolf is crying to make my mark on her.

“So, let’s get you your money,” I say, and I know my voice is too low, too gravelly. “Right?”

When she swallows, I track the movement.

“Right,” she says, unable to meet my eye. “We’ll need to make marks. Neck only, and make sure they’re visible. We have to be careful to make sure they can fade.”

“Of course,” I say, though that’s not what I want to happen at all. “So, do you want to go first?”

Her eyes snap to mine for the first time, and it’s hard for me to keep my eyes from dropping to her chest, which is rising and falling rapidly.

She’s wearing a little pink dress that I want to slip up and over her head, and now that she’s let her hair down around her shoulders, I can’t shake the thought of tangling my fingers up in it, tugging her head back, kissing her.

Just like I did that day in the alcove all those years ago. The first and only time I ever got to kiss her.

What I wouldn’t give to get just one more chance.

I remember this obsession from high school, but back then, it made me angry.

Felt like something to run from, to hate about myself.

My parents were pretty clear about me making the right kind of friends, and the first time I talked to Maeve in front of the other guys, they’d snickered, asking me if I had a “big girl” kink.

It was never an outright statement that they didn’t like her, but I got the message all the same. If I wanted to be in with the right group, stay friends with the future alpha supreme and a Cambias, I needed to put some distance between myself and Maeve.

During the ten years she was gone, I thought about her. Thought about that kiss. But it was nothing like this. It’s almost like Maeve’s scent, and having her near is reminding my body of what it’s like to yearn for her.

“Go first?” she asks, blinking. “You want to do it…right now?”

I shrug one shoulder. “Why not? When else are we going to do it? We’re already here.”

It’s taking everything in me to stay casual about this. To not be obvious about the fact that my hands are itching to touch her body, that my wolf is pushing up against the boundaries between the two of us.

Like a constant shove at my back that I have to fight against. Like we’re two magnets, and I have to set my feet to keep from automatically pulling in Maeve’s direction.

It occurs to me somewhere in the back of my mind that maybe Maeve is the reason other women haven’t been all that interesting to me. Sure, I’ve hooked up here and there, but it always left me feeling a bit hollow, aching for more.

And, in fact, I haven’t followed through on a single fling in more than a year.

“Okay,” she says, looking around. “I—I don’t have any bandages or anything—”

“Perks of the job,” I say, gesturing to my kit, which has a full first-aid set. I reach into the back, drawing it out and setting out the bandages and dressings.

“Perfect,” she says, but the word comes out dry.

“We don’t have to—”

“No,” she says, and I notice her hands are shaking. “I want to. But you should go first.”

Maybe it’s because she’s nervous, or because she’s not sure what she’s doing, but I don’t need to be told twice. I step forward, taking her head in my hands gently and tilting it, looking over her skin before I start to lower my mouth to her neck.