Page 4 of Bully Alpha’s Pregnant Mate (Starfire Hollow Alphas #2)

I should be focusing on the fact that I’m about to get married to Alec Thornton, but my brain has other ideas. Like replaying every single miserable memory of him from those summers as a teenager.

I was the girl who preferred books to people, who could disappear into a library for hours and come out with knowledge on everything from Greek mythology to the migration patterns of Arctic foxes. My curiosity was endless, my thirst for answers insatiable. And apparently, that made me a target.

The only thing more dangerous than being the girl who actually loved school was being the girl who dared to get in the way of Alec Thornton and his band of followers when he was in town.

To say Alec was popular would be the understatement of the century. He was the guy. A star athlete from a neighboring pack, always laughing with that easy confidence of his, surrounded by a constant swarm of friends and more admirers than I could count.

And me? I was the president of the book club that gathered over the summer, a tiny group of people who, like me, had probably read The Odyssey more times than they’d attended a Friday night party. We kept to ourselves, and it should have stayed that way.

Except, our little book club and Alec’s little crew always ended up butting heads over the library schedule. They’d want the common room for “team meetings” and “pre-game strategy sessions.” And because Alec’s crew could do no wrong, we’d inevitably be shooed out, our quiet reading time interrupted by their obnoxious chanting and general chaos.

One time, we tried to stand our ground. I remember holding on to my copy of Wuthering Heights like it was a shield, heart racing as I explained to Alec—calmly, reasonably—that we’d reserved the space, that this was our time.

He’d just laughed with that infuriating smirk on his face. “What, and you’re actually planning on fighting us for it? Relax, Isadora. We’re just warming up for the game. Besides, a little fresh air might do you some good.”

I’d had to watch as his friends burst out laughing when he gave a pointed look to my chubby midsection. Before I could say anything, his girlfriend from his home pack, Molly, had sauntered up, looping her arm through his. She always stopped by to visit him when he was in East Hills, and this time, she’d tilted her head, pretending to look thoughtful, and then said, “Oh, let her stay, Alec. She could use the practice socializing with, you know, actual people.”

The memory makes my hands clench into fists, and I can practically hear her voice, dripping with fake sympathy. Molly had been the queen bee, the one who could smile sweetly at a teacher one second and have you in tears the next. And when Alec was in town for the summer, he’d either joined in or looked the other way, not once offering a shred of help.

We were invisible to him, our little group of bookish nobodies. And we were an easy target.

There was one time I remember all too well, when we’d planned a special book discussion. It was on Jane Austen— Pride and Prejudice , one of the few books that had brought almost everyone out of their shells, excited to talk about characters who felt as real to us as anyone else in town. We’d stayed late, setting up our tables and snacks, ready for what should have been a great meeting.

But then Alec and his team had shown up. He hadn’t said much, just stood in the back, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and watching with a smirk as Molly and her friends marched in, loudly claiming the space was “booked” for them. They’d taken our tables, eaten our snacks, and laughed in our faces as we gathered our things, humiliated and defeated.

Alec hadn’t lifted a finger to stop it. If anything, he’d looked entertained.

“So sorry to keep you from their intellectual pursuits,” Molly had sneered, casting a pointed look at my copy of Pride and Prejudice as I tried to slip past her.

To this day, I can still feel the heat in my cheeks, the humiliation burning brighter than the anger. I’d never been the kind to fight back; it wasn’t in my nature. And Alec and his friends knew that, of course. They had used it against me, time and time again.

The memories pile up, one after another, each one sharpening the resentment that’s been buried for years. I’ve tried to put it behind me, to remind myself that I’m not the same girl I was back then. But it’s hard to forget the sting of it all. Even now, years later, it feels as fresh as if it happened yesterday.

And now I’m standing here, about to marry him. My tormentor, my constant reminder of everything I wasn’t when we were teenagers, is the person I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with.

A part of me almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of it. Alec Thornton, my husband. The irony is enough to make my head spin.

But before I can sink too deeply into the memories, a voice breaks through, cutting through the haze like a blade.

“Isadora?” My mother’s voice is soft, as if she knows exactly where my mind has gone and wishes she could pull me back.

I blink, and the past fades as she yanks me back into the present, into the soft murmurs and quiet rustle of fabric around me. My mother stands in front of me, smoothing the lace of my dress. Her eyes are filled with a mixture of pride and something that looks suspiciously like regret. She doesn’t say it, but I can see it in the way she fusses over my veil, her hands trembling just a bit. She knows exactly what I’m about to do, and somewhere, deep down, I think she realizes it isn’t fair.

“Are you… are you ready?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

I glance down at the dress, at the intricate lace and heavy fabric that feels like it’s weighing me down, rooting me to the spot. My hands are cold, my heartbeat a little too fast, and for a moment, I wonder if I can really do this. If I can really walk down that aisle, look Alec Thornton in the eye, and pretend that this is anything other than a nightmare come to life.

But then I think of my family. Of the debts, of the years they’ve struggled, and of the threat Alec so casually held over my head. If I walk away, they lose everything. And that’s something I can’t live with.

“Yeah,” I tell her. “I’m ready.”

My mother’s lips press together in a thin line. She nods, stepping back to give me a once-over, her eyes glistening. “You look beautiful, Izzy. Truly.”

I give her a small smile, though it feels like a lie. “Thanks, Mom.”

With one last look, she turns to leave. Her footsteps are quiet as she slips out of the room, leaving me alone. I take a deep breath, glancing at myself in the mirror one last time, at the girl who somehow managed to grow into herself despite everything. I’m not that timid bookworm anymore. I’m stronger now, and maybe, just maybe, that will be enough to get me through this.

But as I turn away from the mirror, all I can think about is the boy Alec was back then—and the man he is now, the one waiting for me at the end of the aisle.

The ceremony itself is a blur, like I’m moving through a heavy fog. My dress weighs on me like a thousand-pound cloak, and each step down the aisle feels like I’m walking into a trap that snaps shut behind me, inch by inch.

The crowd’s chatter fades as I take my place beside Alec. The reality of it all finally hits home. The vows, the traditions, the faces watching our every move, looking on with expressions that range from delighted to calculating. My mother dabs at her eyes, my father looks awkward but proud, and my sisters watch, quiet and observant, probably wondering if this is all really happening.

Alec, on the other hand, stands there looking perfectly at ease. He’s dressed in a perfectly tailored dark suit that emphasizes every lean, powerful line of his body, the fabric hugging his broad shoulders and tapering at his waist in a way that almost feels unfair. The crisp white shirt beneath his jacket highlights his tan skin, and the silver cufflinks at his wrists catch the light, adding a sharp, polished edge to his already striking look. His hair is brushed back but still slightly unruly, with a few dark strands falling across his brow. The hint of a smirk playing at his lips tells me he knows exactly how good he looks.

Still, I get through it. I repeat the words, bow my head when required, keep my voice steady, and remind myself that this is for my family. For the pack. Not for him, or for any twisted idea of fate.

When the ceremony finally ends, we move straight into the “ritual reception,” a celebration that’s about as traditional as it gets. The pack elders gather around to give us their blessings, and to remind us of our duties and the responsibilities we carry now that we’re united. Each person offers their congratulations, their eyes sparkling with the expectation that we’re truly, blissfully happy.

I keep my mask firmly in place, returning polite smiles, nodding at the endless stream of well-wishers, trying to ignore the way my stomach churns with every new face, every forced smile. My parents approach, and my mother’s eyes are misting over as she takes my hands, squeezing them a little too tightly.

“You did beautifully, Izzy,” she says, her voice choked. “You’re going to make a wonderful luna. I just know it.”

I give her a small smile, nodding as she pulls me into a hug. I can feel the weight of her relief and her gratitude, and it only makes the knot in my stomach tighten further.

Then there’s Quincey, wearing that mischievous grin as he claps Alec on the back. “Look at you two,” he says. “Who would’ve thought? The bookworm and the golden boy, finally tying the knot. Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“Glad we could keep things interesting for you,” I mutter.

Alec raises a brow, and the corners of his mouth twitch. “‘Interesting’ is one way to put it.”

Before I can come up with a retort, the crowd’s attention shifts. A collective thought seems to pass through the room before someone calls out, “First dance!”

My heart sinks. Of course they’d drag us out for a dance, wouldn’t they?

I try to keep my face neutral as Alec offers his hand. I remind myself to keep my guard up, to steel myself for whatever comment he’ll throw my way once we’re out there, surrounded by our so-called audience.

But as soon as his hand wraps around mine, pulling me in, he surprises me by staying silent. He doesn’t taunt, doesn’t lean in with some sly remark about my two left feet. Instead, his hand finds my waist, settling there like it belongs, and I’m suddenly aware of just how close we’re standing.

The crowd cheers and claps, raising their glasses, oblivious to the tension humming between us. I try to focus on anything but Alec, but he’s making it impossible. He’s looking down at me, his expression calm, thoughtful even, as if he’s seeing me for the first time.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I blink, taken aback. “Why do you care?”

For a second, there’s something in his eyes that I can’t read, something almost… genuine. But then he just shrugs, and that guarded expression slips back into place.

“Just thought I’d check,” he responds. His fingers press into the small of my back, pulling me a fraction closer. The warmth wafting off his body is unsettling, and I try to ignore the way it sends an odd little flutter through my chest.

But the crowd isn’t satisfied with us just dancing. Someone shouts, “Kiss the bride!” and the chant spreads. Before I know it, everyone is clapping, their laughter ringing out like they’re all in on some kind of joke.

Alec glances down at me, waiting for my reaction. I expect him to look amused, smug even, but he just watches me, his gaze steady, almost… tender? It throws me off, and I feel my cheeks warm under his stare.

“Guess we’d better give them what they want,” he says softly with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I open my mouth to protest, to remind him that this is ridiculous, that this isn’t some romantic fairytale. But before I can get a single word out, he leans in. His hand slides up my back, his fingers brushing against the bare skin just above the dress line.

And then he kisses me.

It’s not a quick, obligatory kiss meant to appease the crowd. At least, it doesn’t feel that way. It’s slow and warm, like he’s trying to make a point. My heart skips a beat, and before I can stop myself, I’m leaning into it, feeling my resolve slip away, even if it’s only for a second. His hand moves up, resting against my cheek, and I’m lost in the warmth of his touch, the unexpected softness of it.

The crowd erupts in cheers. Glasses clink around us, and voices rise in playful, drunken chants, but it’s all a blur. For a brief, stolen moment, it feels like it’s just us, like maybe this whole thing could be something more than duty and obligation.

But then reality crashes in, a sharp, bitter reminder. I pull back, breaking the kiss, and a strange feeling settles in my chest as I realize the truth. This isn’t for me. It’s not real. He’s just doing what he’s supposed to, putting on a show, giving the crowd exactly what they expect from their alpha.

I take a small step back, clearing my throat as I straighten, trying to ignore the strange sense of loss that comes with the distance. Alec’s watching me, keeping his expression carefully blank, but I can see a hint of something else there. A flicker of satisfaction, maybe. Or relief.

My parents beam at us from across the room, and my siblings laugh as they join the cheering crowd. Everyone seems blissfully unaware of the battle raging in my head.

“Well, that was quite the performance,” I comment.

Alec tilts his head. “Who says it was just a performance?”

I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Please. You’re not fooling me, Alec. We both know why you’re doing this.”

He doesn’t argue or deny it, and something in me sours as the truth settles in. Of course, this is about them—the pack, the council, the image he has to maintain as alpha. I was foolish to think, even for a second, that there could be anything more to this union.

I won’t make that mistake again.