Page 9 of Bullied Pretend Mate (Silverville Firefighter Wolves #3)

This is happening

This is really happening.

All those nights I spent as a teenager, kicking my feet in bed, daydreaming about what it would be like to be with Felix Rana.

I’d imagine him stalking into school, looking at me with those eyes, the ones he sometimes leveled at me, which were such a potent mix of hate and wanting, they took my breath away.

But in my daydreams, the same dark eyes held none of the disdain.

And he’d walk right through the cafeteria, come straight to my table, take my hand, and draw me to my feet. He’d pull me in close to him, put his hand on the small of my back, and kiss me in front of everyone there.

He’d lay a claim to me.

Felix would prove to the entire school that I wasn’t nothing, that I wasn’t a loser. That someone could love me, even with the way my body was different from theirs. Even though most of the skinny girls in that cafeteria had one worst nightmare—and that was to someday look like me.

Now, my heart beats in my throat as Felix lowers his mouth to my neck, his hot breath fanning out over my skin and sending a wave of chills cascading down my back and arms. It feels like the entire world tightens to a pinprick, just this moment right here, the two of us standing less than a foot apart.

When his teeth make contact with my skin, I can’t help it—I gasp, leaning forward. His hands snake around me, one planting at the base of my spine, the other sliding to the back of my head, pushing my curls aside.

It should hurt—I’ve heard, time and time again, that the mating bite should be painless with the right person—but I still wait for the pinch, for the sharp tug of pain.

But it never comes.

Felix sighs into me, drawing us even closer together, his hand sliding from my back and to my hip, which he grips tightly, his hand tightening and loosening as his teeth sink deeper into me.

Heat pools in my core, and I blink out of the bliss for a moment, realizing for the first time that this might throw me into a heat. Coming back into my head and pushing the lust away, I swallow and sway back from him slightly.

It’s enough for him to sigh, haltingly pulling his mouth back from me. My entire body is vibrating with energy, and no matter how much I tell myself not to, I can’t stop thinking about touching him.

I wonder if anyone has ever done a mating bite like this. Standing fully clothed in the middle of a rental living room.

“Okay,” Felix says after standing completely still for a moment, his eyes locked on the side of my neck. He clears his throat and turns to the side. “Okay—let me—”

He grabs the bandages he’s laid out, his fingers light and careful as he covers the bite. My brain fights with the logic of this moment, of the fact that though the bite should have been painful, it’s not. Instead, it’s sensitive, making me shiver every time he touches me.

“You’re all good,” he says, then his eyes flit to mine.

I blink, taking a step backward, but I can’t keep my distance from him—I have to get close again.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

No—the answer is, of course, no. His scent is all around me, thick in the air, and I cross to the other side of the room, hands shaking as I throw open one of the windows, desperate for fresh air.

But even an open window doesn’t make it better, and I realize why. The mating mark is a way for our scents to combine—it’s part of the process. I can practically taste him, feel his DNA like it’s twisting carefully around mine.

“Maeve?” he asks softly, and I shake my head, taking a deep breath and turning back to him. I can’t let him see how much this affects me.

“I’m ready,” I say, brushing my hair back over my shoulder, hitting the edge of the bandage and sending another shiver coursing through me. But when I step up to him, setting a hand on his chest, I realize I’m not going to be able to reach his neck like this.

“Here,” he says, settling his hands on my waist and drawing me back toward him as he sits on the edge of the bed. I stand between his legs and, heart throwing itself against my rib cage, I tip his head to the side and lean down quickly, sinking my teeth into his neck before I can change my mind.

Felix lets out a short, low sound from the back of his throat, and my hands fly up, holding him in place like he might try to draw back from me.

But he’s not pulling back at all. He’s leaning in, his hands tightening on my hips.

At first, it feels strange, biting him like this, but then a strong sense of possession floods through me, and I push deeper, feeling rather than hearing his growl in response. I bite him for much longer than he bit me. Eventually, I remember what I’m doing and pull back, breathing hard.

There’s no blood.

“In my kit,” Felix says, pointing to the bag on the floor. I follow his instructions to patch him up, my hands still shaking as my fingers graze his skin. I catch him shiver, too.

When it’s done, I put space between the two of us, no matter how my body urges me to push him back onto the bed and climb onto him. The bite is making everything worse, making me want to fold myself into him.

“Okay.” I force my voice to stay as steady as I can manage. “Okay—so, when is the first wedding?”

“Oh.” Felix shifts from side to side, blinking up at me. When he swallows, I trace the path of the movement. Slowly, as though he’s forcing himself to act normal, too, he slides on one of his grins and says, “It’s tomorrow.”

***

What in the hell was I thinking when I agreed to this?

I stand in a blush-pink gown at Felix’s side, his hand on my back, as everyone at the reception stares at us. At least, that’s what it feels like.

The reception is gorgeous, on a rooftop strung with warm, twinkling lights. The tables are round and white, and the air smells like pot roast and potatoes. The sound of clinking champagne glasses floats around us, along with the light, delicate scents of roses and peonies.

We were able to sneak into the ceremony a little late, so we didn’t make a big splash with our arrival. But now that it’s time for the reception, I feel eyes on us, whispers following as we walk to our table.

“Felix.”

Imogen Rana looks up at us, her eyes widening as they dart from her son, then to me, then back to her son again. Her nostrils flare, and I know she’s smelling the change in his scent.

My mark on him.

It gives me the slightest sense of achievement to know I’m getting under Imogen’s skin.

I can only imagine it was mostly her idea to cut off my family after what happened.

She probably acted like it was one of the most difficult decisions she had ever had to make.

Like she wasn’t wary of me and Felix being friends, even back when we were kids.

I was a fat girl. And it made no sense that Felix liked to be around me, even platonically.

“Mom,” Felix says, patting my arm gently. “You remember Maeve Villareal?”

“I do,” she says, her voice tight, her smile even tighter. She’s wearing a simple black dress, her auburn hair curled back from her face. “Of course I do! What…what are you…?”

“It’s so nice to see you again,” I say, reaching out my hand, watching her face as she reaches out for it, too.

We shake, and her gaze darts over to her husband’s.

It must be killing her to be cordial with me, and it must kill her even more when Felix and I take a seat at their table, which still has a few empty chairs.

“You as well,” Imogen says, fussing with her hands in her lap. “How have you—what have you been doing since you left Silverville?”

“Maeve is starting her own clothing line,” Felix says, his hand finding my thigh under the table. He gives it a squeeze, and I feel its effects throughout the rest of my body. He’s trying to make me feel better about all this.

It’s getting harder and harder to remind myself of who he is, how he hurt me back then.

“ Really ?” Imogen’s eyebrows hit her hairline, and she leans forward, looking me over in a not-too-subtle way. “That’s really great.”

Everything else remains unsaid. What kind of clothes I’m making. The sense that creating a plus-size clothing line is somehow not as interesting or good as making a line for straight-sized people.

The rest of the meal passes by in tense, stilted conversation. If Felix notices how angry his parents are about my presence, he doesn’t show it, leaning back in his chair easily, like this is any other wedding, and it means nothing that we’re here together.

We watch from our table as the couple takes the floor for their first dance. To my surprise, Felix stands up, holding his hand out to me with a cheeky grin.

“May I have this dance?” he asks, eyes flitting to the dance floor.

My stomach flips, a younger version of myself melting at this exchange. I probably daydreamed about this exact thing at some point.

And now that it’s here, the Ranas’ gazes following us as we make our way from the table to the dance floor, I’m not sure it’s quite what I would have imagined.

“They’re furious,” I whisper when Felix takes my hand and slips into an effortless slow dance with me.

I feel him laugh, his chest shaking. “Yeah,” he says, “it’s kind of fun.”

I pull back from him, raising an eyebrow in his direction. “ Fun ? To have your parents mad at you?”

“They’re so obsessed with what everyone else thinks,” he says, lowering his voice and fixing those green eyes on me. “It’s kind of fun to mess with them about it, rather than just going along with whatever they say.”

“Everyone around here is obsessed with pack opinion,” I mutter, shivering when he reaches up and brushes my curls away from my face so the cool breeze on the rooftop runs across my bare neck. “Right?”

“Maybe,” Felix admits, tilting his head at me slightly. “But things have been changing. Ever since Xeran came back, there’s been a shift.”

I chew on my lip, avoiding his eyes, thinking about my old friend. “Did you know? About him and Phina—back then?”

Felix laughs and turns me so I can see his parents over his shoulder. They avert their eyes, and it sends a little rush of pleasure through me. “No way,” Felix says. “Xeran kept that stuff under lock and key.”

I resist the urge to ask if anyone back then knew about us—there was no us . Just one kiss in the hallway, and Felix made it clear to everyone that my silly crush on him was not reciprocated.

Swallowing, I pull back slightly, realizing I’ve started to lean into him. I just need to remember what I’m doing here— convincing the lawyer that I’ve mated. Taking the money. Going back to Los Angeles to chase my real dreams.

At one time, that dream might have included Felix Rana. But not anymore.