Page 17 of Forced Alpha Bride (Wolfshade Brides-for-Hire #3)

When Winnie starts asking me questions, I just shut down. It’s like there’s a pit of fire in my guts that starts to bubble when she pokes at uncomfortable subjects, and I have to close off if I want to stop it from igniting.

No one’s ever asked me about my past before, and I’ve never talked about it. Between my brothers and me, we knew we’d suffered the same things—loss of family, poverty, being targeted by authority, and finding ourselves with no safe place to live.

We didn’t need to go into details with each other. We just respected each other’s silence.

It doesn’t help that I’m starting to feel extremely nervous about the formal event. One of the reasons I distract Winnie with getting ready is that I’m anxious about looking good for it. The other reason is so I can just stop talking.

I appreciate that she wants to learn more about me. That’s a good sign. But I don’t think I’ll ever let anyone into me that deeply… no matter how close we get.

As I get into the shower with her, I consider the fact that we won’t even get that close. It’s a hard truth to face after seeing her beautiful, wonderful climax only a short time before.

I expect a bit of intimate time with her in the shower, especially when I see her checking me out. But she looks shocked when I get in with her and keeps a distance between us the whole time. It annoys me so much, I get out as soon as I’ve washed and don’t bother to get closer to her.

I have no idea what’s going on here. I keep telling myself that I can keep this relationship platonic, a contractual agreement—even under the rules of consummation—but this woman does things to me.

I crave her… I can’t get enough of her. It’s like every second I’m not touching her, part of my soul dies.

As I dry off in the bedroom, I chuckle to myself. I’d often thought there was nothing left of my heart or my soul. I believed both were destroyed a long time ago, so it’s amusing to assume I have them now.

I’ve got a couple of suits laid out on the bed when Winnie comes in. I deliberately ignore her. She goes straight to her bags, and I continue to puzzle over my jackets and slacks as she goes through her own things.

I’m so absorbed by my decision, I don’t notice her approach. When she puts a hand on my arm, I actually jump in surprise.

“Need some help?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I admit with a sigh. “I don’t know what to wear.”

“Are all of these tailored to you?”

“I don’t think so. Flint picked them up for me. You know how you said people would want to give me things? Harold’s Tailcoats called and offered me these.” I gesture to the suits. “I don’t even know if they fit.”

“I’ve heard of Harold,” Winnie says. “Krista’s bought gowns from him. He can probably measure your suit by eye at a hundred paces. Which one were you thinking of?”

“Black,” I answer, pointing to the jacket on the end. “And a white shirt, I guess.”

“No,” she answers, shaking her head. “Don’t put pure white under black. It’s too shocking a contrast, and you’ll look like a waiter. Go for the black jacket, but wear this charcoal shirt.”

“Okay,” I say, raising my eyebrow. “You seem to know more about this than I do.”

“I do,” she laughs. “Trust me. You’d also look damn good with a splash of red, but then you’d clash with me.”

“Excuse me?”

“My gown, my colors. We have to match.”

“Oh,” I reply, confused. “I had no idea.”

“I know,” she says, smiling as she goes back to her things.

While Winnie goes back to the bathroom, I get dressed and comb back my hair.

It’s getting just a little too long and keeps falling in my face.

I’ll have to get it cut soon because I like to present myself as clean-shaven, neat, and tidy.

Grandfather had gray hair to his waist and constant stubble, but he taught me if I want to be taken seriously by the upper-class fucks, I’ve got to walk and talk like them.

My mother taught me etiquette at a young age, and it’s the only reason I know how to hold myself with authority and speak formally.

I know all of this is only a bare minimum of knowledge.

Almost a parody of true class. I’m winging it the whole time.

It might be different with Winnie by my side.

“I’m ready,” I hear Winnie’s voice behind me. “Tell me what you think.”

I turn around to see Winnie standing in the doorway, posing with her arms up and her head tossed back.

She’s wearing a pale pink gown of soft, wispy fabric.

Wide straps on her shoulders sweep down into a low, heart-shaped neckline that frames her full, round breasts, pushing them up into ripe mounds.

The dress fits tightly around her waist and flows loosely over her hips in sweeping folds all the way to the floor.

When she does a little flourish, I see that she’s wearing cute, pale pink high heels.

“Well?” she asks, chuckling. She flips her hair over one shoulder, and the long mess of curls drapes almost to her waist.

“You look amazing,” I say, finally finding my voice.

“Thank you,” she says, smiling. “This is one of my favorite gowns. They say redheads don’t look good in pink, but I think it’s bull.”

“I wholeheartedly concur.”

“Your dark looks would go great with a red shirt, or even just a touch of red on the jacket, but it would clash with the pink.”

“Okay,” I say, nodding as I try to pretend I know what she’s talking about.

“The black and charcoal match me really well, though,” she says, turning in front of the mirror to examine herself from every side. “I think it’s a good image for our first appearance.”

I go over to the mirror and stand beside her. She takes my arm, smiling and posing. I agree that we look good, but I feel like an absolute fool. The nice suit is one thing. Fake smiling and moving with affectation is another.

I’m not prancing around like a trained dog.

“Damon, you look stiff,” Winnie remarks, shoving my waist. “Try to move gracefully.”

“I’ve never been graceful,” I growl.

Winnie grins at me like she knows something I don’t. “Enough procrastinating,” she says. “Let’s go.”

She picks up a little jeweled purse, and I follow her down the steps and out to the car. My nerves are starting to bubble again, not so much from mingling with all the alphas and elders, but the fact that I have to do it in a suit.

I’d rather be up on the mountain peak in my wolf shape, talking to the alphas in the wind and the driving snow. That’s where we belong.

I know a lot of first families would disagree with that, though. Our entire history is full of people who attained and grew their privilege simply so they could rule others.

That’s exactly why I’m here—to heal this imbalance. I have to remember that. I walk like them and talk like them, but I’ll never be one of them.

As I park in front of the manor, I look over at Winnie. She looks composed, serene, and incredibly beautiful.

If I’ll never be one of them, then does that mean I’ll never truly be her partner?

The idea makes me sad, so I push it away and get out of the car. The drive is full of fancy vehicles. Through the main gates, I can see a flow of people and hear a band playing.

“Alpha Damon,” one of the attendants greets me, bowing his head. He opens the door for Winnie, and she thanks him graciously, holding out her arm to me. I grab her hand, and she shakes her head.

“No, not like that,” she says. “Here—put your arm like this. Elbow there. Now, I gently hold your forearm. You have to be conscious of how you walk and hold yourself so you’re making space for me and supporting me. It has to look fluid, not like you’re dragging me around.”

“Great,” I mutter. “I’m getting lessons on how to walk.”

“No,” she counters. “Just in how to present yourself with a partner. I’ll give you lessons on how to walk another time.”

I bite back my barbed reply, taking slow, short steps as we walk towards the main gates. The drive and courtyard are paved with rough cobbles, and Winnie has to be very careful in her heels, clinging to my arm for balance but looking smooth and effortless at the same time.

“Alpha Damon,” Regina greets, turning around to face me as I approach the elders. “I see you have presented yourself well this evening.”

“Lovely of you to notice, Regina,” Winnie says, smiling at her and giving a slight curtsy. “You do us honor.”

My fake smile stretches out into a real one. I’m pretty sure Winnie is sassing her, but using a tone that Regina couldn’t possibly argue with.

“It is you who honors us by graciously accepting to be our luna,” Regina answers smoothly. “I assume that your duties in that department are being… fulfilled.”

I see Winnie’s cheeks color, just slightly. In that moment, I could have happily torn Regina’s throat out.

That bitch has no class, and if a gutter rat like me can see it, then it’s surely obvious to the entire Range.

“Thank you for your support and your concern,” I say. “But we must move on to greet the other alphas. Enjoy your evening, Regina.”

“Oh, I will,” she says, her smile sharp and wide. There is a cruel glitter in her eye that is more malicious than the glares of most thieves and murderers I’ve known.

What a fucking farce. Putting on nice clothes and a ton of jewels to pretend to be nice while actually acting like jerks. We should have a fighting ring and be done with all this formal shit!

“Thank you,” Winnie whispers. “She tried to rattle me, and I’m ashamed that it worked.”

“Don’t worry,” I mutter. “I can handle her.”

I’m not sure I actually can, especially at an event like this. But I’ll do anything to protect Winnie.

“Alpha Kit,” Winnie says, pausing to curtsy. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do, so I just awkwardly hold my arm out for her to balance on.

“Winnie.” Kit does a little bow. “And Alpha Damon. Thank you for inviting us.”

“Our absolute pleasure,” Winnie replies. “How is the new trade line between the Key and Cyan Lock?”

The two of them begin a conversation I can’t even begin to follow, so I stand there awkwardly until a curvy woman in a flowing green dress comes up to stand beside us.

“Hey,” she says to me. “I’m Lexa, Kit’s luna.”

“Oh,” I answer, starting to sweat. “I’m… ah, shit. Fuck! I’m so bad at this.”

“It’s okay,” she giggles. “I’m pretty shitty at this, too. I’m from the wrong side of the tracks, brother, and I can pick another Povo at a country mile. You’re uncomfortable in that suit, huh?”

“Fuck, yes,” I grumble. “It’s not that it’s tight—well, that’s part of it—but I just feel so stupid with all this pageantry.”

“I know,” she answers, nodding. “You’ll get used to it. How are things with Winnie?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” I reply. “We seem to have great chemistry, but I’m not sure she wants to fulfill the contract.”

“Worry not.” Lexa gives me a wink. “Iris knows what she’s doing. It will all work out.”

“I wish I believed that,” I said glumly.

“Put your game face back on,” Lexa says. “Here come the big guns.”

I look over to see Alpha Galen, his mate Clara, and a tall, elegant woman approaching from across the yard. Winnie grips my arm.

“Don’t let your guard down because they’re family,” Winnie says. “Mom is really serious about tradition. She didn’t even introduce herself to her grandson at the first meeting because it was in front of the council.”

I frown. “Sounds mean.”

“Yeah, well, she can be. She killed someone in the back alley, not long after Galen and Clara got married. He was a bad guy, but it was pretty full-on.”

“Remind me not to piss off your mom,” I mutter.

“Alpha Damon,” the tall woman says, taking graceful strides towards me. She holds out a hand and curtsies, so I wrap my fingers around hers and try to bow like I’ve seen others do.

“Elder Ramses,” I say. “So pleased you could attend.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” she replies.

My irritation spikes as I realize I’m going to speak the same words over and over and hear the same responses.

How does anyone get through nights like this without dying of fucking boredom?

Suddenly, there is a loud boom from the direction of town. Brent Manor is some distance away, so a sound that loud had to be an explosion of decent size.

Enough to take out a whole building! This is serious!

I let go of Winnie’s arm and run to the front gates. I can see others doing the same, while most of the people just make shocked statements and look around in confusion.

Call yourselves wolves? You might as well be fucking sheep.

A big plume of black smoke is rising from the town, and I’m really starting to worry about this being a serious attack. Then there is another boom, even louder, and the column of smoke gets bigger.

All around me, screams and cries fill the air as everyone runs in different directions, the formal evening descending into utter chaos.