Page 31 of Never Submit (Bad Wolves #2)

Chapter 31

Torin

T hough she’s out of direct sight, I feel Ren’s eyes on me as I stalk out of the cabin, and even then I’ve got a gut feeling she tracks my movements through the camp toward my SUV.

The keys are in the ignition, my deltas scrambling to keep up with me. Calling for me to stop and wait for them. Their shouts fall on deaf ears.

My fucking cell phone vibrates in my pocket. I’ve finally come back to myself enough to realize it’s still on me. Has been on me the whole time I was buried inside?—

With a growl, I grab the phone and toss it. Far enough away to stop hearing the way it vibrates through the call.

I slide into the driver’s seat and turn the key hard in the ignition. Pressing my foot down on the gas and leaving the deltas behind, spattered in a spray of frozen mud.

Damn, I thought I’d finally found my footing.

I’ve got a plan in mind to reach the goal. And then I go off and, what, I give in to temptation and excuse the behavior as a one time, it-won’t-happen-again lapse.

A glance at my reflection shows the madman behind the wheel taking the curves of the old road too fast for safety. The seat is frozen, the leather chilling me down to the bone.

The last thing I should have done is fuck Ren. It was a lapse, a terrible, amazing lapse, and the mate bond I’ve rejected presses in on me. Begging me to acknowledge it. Which is why I’ve got to see Catarina.

To talk to her.

I need to convince myself that she is the one I need and I’m making the right choice.

I am, aren’t I? By doing what my father would have wanted? What he pushed for my entire life?

Every fucking step I’ve taken has been to make him proud and take this pack to greater heights. I’ve accumulated wealth, I’ve bought properties, I’ve scouted out multiple investment opportunities…

For what?

Am I happy? Is Ren right about the things she says? When she’s not panting and drooling over my cock?

Moaning, I shake my head and take a turn way too fast, the front tires skidding over loose gravel. It doesn’t matter what I want. The alpha’s happiness isn’t important for the growth and safety of his pack.

Only instincts. Only strength, power.

Catarina bolsters both of those things for me. Which automatically makes her the right choice no matter what thoughts are spiraling in my head. No matter what kind of goddamn inconvenient mate bond tries to resurrect itself from the dead.

“ No bond ,” I remind myself out loud.

It’s cold feet, I assure myself, catching another glimpse of my reflection in the rearview mirror. Every groom has cold feet right before his wedding .

But not every groom fucks another woman right before his wedding.

Shit, I’ve got to tell Catarina. It’s bad enough we’ve built our relationship on responsibility and allegiance, but she needs to understand what I’m bringing to this marriage. In all regards.

Hopefully she’s still at work at this time of day and hasn’t taken off early. I navigate the back roads and head out toward the main highway, scattered with salt to keep away the snow and ice. Chunks of it ping against the underside of the car as I hit the highway itself.

From there, it’s less than thirty minutes into the city without traffic.

And Ren’s disappointment, her heartbreak, is a constant niggling scratch along my spine. Insistent, annoying. Reminding me of my failures.

Why did I have to give in to her? Why did I have to show my weakness around her?

It didn’t matter how my alpha dominated her before and during sex. We both understand the truth.

There’s a tug on my mind, somewhere in the depths of it, as though thinking about her for even a second has conjured her.

“You’ve no place here, Ms. Wexler.”

I use the name purposely, to drag myself out of the moment and ground in the present. The streets narrow, the traffic congested at this time of day as everyone heads home.

If I go to the law firm, Catarina will know. She’ll smell Ren on me . Too bad. It’s not like I can stop by my building and shower.

There’s no parking near the law firm building, the three-story chrome and glass spear so unlike its neighbors. I head to a side street and back up into a space too small for the SUV. Screw it.

Time ticking down and my pulse racing to match, I head out of the car and slam the door. The reverberation echoes through my teeth.

I can’t storm into the building this way. Disheveled, a mess inside and out. Security will toss me straight out on my ass.

How did I get so far from myself?

Stopping to breathe, I check myself, smoothing back my hair and adjusting it into a neater knot at my neck. There’s nothing I can do to quell the storm in my eyes. I smooth fingers over my goatee, adjust my shirt.

It’s now or never.

I glance at my watch to check the time and stride down the alley toward the front door. The glass wings open silently and the two women manning the front desk refuse to look up at my approach. Security detail protects the elevators and the door to the personal offices from view.

The carpet is plush, clean, gray. Horizontal patterns draw the eye up the walls toward the coffered ceiling, a little touch of old in the new.

“May we help you, sir?” the receptionist asks by rote. Her fingers fly over the keyboard, and I wait in silence for her to look up and acknowledge me personally.

Her throat bobs, and her eyes go wide, her breath catching. “Mr. Steel, I’m so sorry. My apologies. Miss Briar is just finishing up with a client?—”

I tug at my jacket. “Excellent. I know where to find her.”

So much for our once-a-month date, the one we allowed ourselves and wrote ahead into our separate schedules. Duty to pack over personal preferences has changed drastically the closer we get to the wedding.

If there will actually be a wedding.

The receptionist calls after me on my way to the elevator, and I ignore her, the doors sliding open to the mirrored interior instantly. They snap shut before either of the women has a chance to stop me.

This confrontation can’t wait.

The ride to the third floor is short and the elevator opens up on a short, smart hallway leading into a sort of lobby. Several doors span off from the space, and I take the one on the right, closed to the general public.

Inside, Catarina is alone, drawing on her coat behind a long mahogany desk. She is the picture of elegance, poise, her dress purple and fitting perfectly to her skin. Rather than her usual unbothered expression, she glares at me, furious, before schooling her features.

“Torin,” she bites out the words, “what are you doing here?” Her smile is stiff, habitually.

“Catarina, we need to talk.”

Now isn’t the time for civility, I remind myself. My wolf rises again in her presence, an indomitable presence, prepared to take responsibility for our actions.

She huffs out a laugh. “Please. You break into my office to confront me at the end of my work day after a particularly grueling client, and I’m supposed to, what? Be amenable? You’ve barely taken any of my calls.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your meeting, but I’m glad to find you alone.” Even if you are pissed . “I apologize for not answering when you called.”

She rounds the desk, the usual misery that blossoms whenever we’re together present once again .

“Yes,” she replies tightly. “My multiple calls to check in on your health and well-being days before our nuptials. Now we have hours before the ceremony and here you are?” She chuckles incredulously.

The reminder burrows beneath my skin. “I’m sorry.”

My wolf bristles at having to apologize.

Catarina slides several neat folders into her leather briefcase. Her hair, pale and colorless, is done in a neat braid along the line of her too-thin back. “Your apologies mean nothing. I’m finished for the day, and I’d much prefer to head home to a bottle of chilled wine and a hot bath.”

“I need to talk to you.” I block the door before she has a chance to slip past me.

Which only serves to infuriate her further.

“Now you need to talk?” She taps the toe of her Louis Vuitton soundlessly on the thick carpet. “I’m having difficulty following your rationale here, Torin.”

She flicks her fingers in the air in a shooing motion to get me out of her way. I’m a fly, an irritation, not something to consider seriously.

I have to do this. It’s necessary to keep Catarina and the Briar pack content. If I can’t do that, then I might as well give up all ties to the Steel Claws and let someone else, someone more capable, lead them.

“There are only so many times I can apologize to you until it begins to sound disingenuous,” I reply. “But I thought it was… important for me to tell you this in person.”

She arches an imperious eyebrow. “Tell me what?”

“I had an affair.” The words slide out more smoothly than I’d thought they would. “This afternoon.”

She pauses for a beat but the anger I expected from her never materializes. “Let me guess. This Ren person you’ve mentioned before? ”

Shame lends an acid taste to my mouth, and I swallow before clearing my throat. My head hangs down toward my chest. “Yes, it was with Ms. Wexler. Let me assure you of this, Catarina. It was a one-time lapse of judgment and it won’t happen again. Certainly not after we’re married. I would never?—”

“Stop,” she snaps. “I don’t care what or who you do. Just don’t get her pregnant. Do you understand?”

I pull up short. “What did you say?”

Her patience pressed thin, Catarina smiles icily at me before she sets her briefcase down on the nearest chair. As though she is going out of her way to be gracious and explain this to me. She sweeps her gaze from my head to my soiled shoes and catches everything in between.

“If you get her pregnant, then the bitch’s pups will be my problem. I’m not looking to invite any more stress into my life. This marriage—” She chuckles at the term. “It’s only for the sake of appearances. You don’t really think I care about you, do you? Please.”

I scowl down at her in distaste. “Of course, I understand.”

The engagement, in my head, was nothing more than a joke, a long and drawn out process to make sure our negotiations were firmly in place. I’d accepted Catarina as my bride and mate for the rest of my life.

Did I want it? No.

Would I have changed the situation if possible? Absolutely.

But to have her so blithely throw it back in my face, to callously talk about any pups I may have with Ren?—

Catarina is no longer the good-looking woman I’ve always considered her to be. The way she’s staring at me now, she’s cruel, vicious. The expensive clothing and expert hair and makeup are an effort to disguise her absolute apathy for anyone or anything.

“Listen to me.” Catarina steps forward, adjusting my jacket for me as though I’ve missed a step. “We will go through with this relationship because the details have been finalized and our terms set in stone.” She smiles, mercifully. Doing me a favor. “If you’d like to keep fucking this Ren woman, then by all means do what you need to do. Goodness knows I’d rather not fuck you, Torin.”

My anger flares. But I need the help from her pack. We don’t have the Moonstone anymore. Whatever assistance she and the Briars will be able to offer, I’m in no position to turn down.

“I’ve known you were hard-hearted, but I didn’t expect you to turn it on me,” I admit.

She pats me much too hard on the chest before stepping away again and putting some much needed distance between us while I pull myself together.

“You have thick skin,” she says. “You’ll be fine. Now, do you have a legitimate reason for bursting into my office in a tizzy? Or did you come thinking you’d pour your heart out regarding this affair?”

She laughs then, and it feels like my thick skin is nowhere to be found.

“You have been blowing up my phone. Perhaps you’d like me to tell you the reason why I haven’t answered?”

Her gaze snaps back to me, and she’s pissed once again, evident by the imperious lift of one meticulously groomed eyebrow. “You have a lot of explaining to do on that front, my love .”

She’d rather see me dead. I know it in an instant. A part of me balks once again. But my instinct as an alpha keeps me in this horrible office with no personality, no life. There is only a wall of windows and the door at my back, the majority of the space taken up by her desk. And her ego.

Standing in the same room with her is a lesson in endurance. It’s not that I wanted Catarina to love me. I’d resigned myself to a future with a wife who may never see me as more than a business partner, or at the very best a friend. But to see her open loathing, the dismissive way she talks about affairs?—

Fucking bullshit.

“If you must know, I’ve been working closely with Mathis and the Grey Valley pack. Not only have we managed to avoid a war between our packs, but we’ve successfully negotiated a peace treaty.”

Now a second eyebrow shoots up to join the first. “Excuse me?” Her lips thin into taut lines.

I don't like the way she’s looking at me. The way it seems to shock her to her core that I’ve made peace with Mathis.

“The terms are in place,” I tell Catarina, clenching my jaw. “Our packs are unified.”

“Is that where you disappeared to? You took off, ignored me, to unify your packs .”

She spits out the words.

“It’s a matter of duty to our people. You know about duty, don’t you? It’s a shame you’re unwilling to do yours to me. You promised me a wedding night,” I remind her to cut her back down to size.

“And you’ll get your wedding night. I won’t go back on my word,” she continues ruthlessly.

Except neither of us wants our union to be physical. Separate lives. Lives without love, without even liking each other. Business rather than family. This is duty, one hundred percent, and the only thing that stirs to life any desire in me is the thought of Ren. Of tasting her the way I did only hours ago.

I’ve mocked Mathis for his family-centered crap in the past and how his refusal to modernize has kept him stagnant. But I’ve also seen him with his people. I’ve seen the way they respond to him, out of love rather than responsibility. Even that little omega of his, Flora. So different from any of my omegas…

I would never let them get so friendly.

Does Mathis have a point? He has a mate. He has happiness.

I’ve been pushing that aside, and fuck, I’m still empty inside. My self-interests reflect back nothing but bleak cold.

Catarina snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Anything else you need to confess? I’ve had a long day.”

I drag my hand over my stubbled jaw. I’m exhausted and worn down. “I was hoping we could…spend some time together. Tonight.”

She gawks at me. “You’re not serious.”

“Is it that absurd that I’d like to share your company?”

She blinks.

“Or I can go back to my pack?—”

“No, no.” She sighs. “You can stay with me tonight. But you’ll have to sleep on the couch.”

“The couch?”

She smiles condescendingly. “You reek of that bitch, for one thing. And for another, you’re not supposed to see the bride before the wedding, remember?”

“You believe in that nonsense?”

“Not exactly. But I’m keeping the tradition as my something old. ”

I thought I’d done the right thing by coming here and talking to my fiancée. And I’m leaving more convoluted than ever. Going through with the merger will benefit the Steel Claws. But it will demolish what’s left of my heart and soul.