Page 9 of Brutal Mate

For a second, Kane thought Hanson might argue. Then, as if he remembered his standing in the pack, he dipped his head and said, “You're the boss.”

Kane flinched at that. Though he had become an important member of the pack and was definitely higher in the pack hierarchy than Hanson, it still felt odd to be called such a thing.

Would he treat me with such respect if he knew the truth? Kane wondered. Hanson was yet another born and bred werewolf. He'd probably never so much as sniff respectfully in Kane's direction if he knew the truth.

Fighting the anxiety that seemed to cling to him more and more with each passing moon, Kane said, “Let’s get on.”

Chapter 4 - Miley

Every evening, Miley felt more tired than the evening before. The constant work at the hardware store and always being on edge, waiting for her father's next bout of abuse, was beginning to get to her more than she cared to admit.

She lay on her bed with her arm over her face, every muscle in her body aching, and all she could do was hope she would simply pass out so that she didn’t have to deal with the world for a little while.

It'd be dinner time soon, but she wasn't hungry. All her body craved was sleep, rest and relaxation. But sleep wasn't like that for Miley. She awakened multiple times during the night with the smallest sounds or the slightest tickle of her bedding on her skin, always half-expecting her father to be standing over her, angry at her for missing her alarm or not having remembered to take out the trash the night before, or even something that couldn't be her fault but that he felt her wanted to take out on her, anyway.

It was a pitiful existence, but it was the only one she had. And though she felt sick at the thought of his marrying her off to pay his debts, a part of her couldn't help but wonder, could it be any worse than this?

At least she would be away from him.

Shivering at the consideration, she rolled onto her side and adjusted her pillow to cradle her head before closing her eyes with a huff.

If only sleep might come a little easier, she might not feel so damn tired all the time.

Yet no sooner had she turned over than her phone began to buzz on the bedside table. Opening one eye, she recognized her best friend's name flashing on the screen and reached for the phone.

Pressing the phone to her ear, she answered, “Hey Lauren, what's up?”

“What are you doing right now?” Lauren asked, but before Miley could answer, she added, “As if I can't guess.”

“Nothing, just lying in bed,” Miley grumbled back. “Why, what’s up?”

“We're all headed to the spot,” Lauren said. “Come out!”

Miley groaned deep in her throat. She wasn't sure she had the energy in her to climb down the trellis outside her bedroom window and hike all the way into the woods just to drink and smoke whatever her friends had managed to get their hands on.

“I have to work in the morning,” Miley protested, massaging the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger.

Miley knew what her friend was going to say even before she said it. “You always have to work. Come on, come out. Oliver will be there.”

Miley cringed. Why her friend insisted she had a crush on Oliver Reed, she didn't know. Maybe when she had been eight and hadn't known better, but now, Oliver Reed was the very last thing on her mind. Men in general were the last thing on her mind. Besides, why bother pursuing any kind of attraction with what her parents had planned for her?

They hadn't been happy when they'd come back from Nightstar House and talking with the mayor, but Miley knew better than to believe that was the end of it. One way or another, her father always got what he wanted in the end. And what he wanted right now was to marry her off to save his own skin.

“Lauren, I—” Miley didn't get the chance to finish as the sound of knuckles on her bedroom door made her jump. Hissing under her breath, “I can't, gotta go,” she ended the call just seconds before her mother entered the room.

She peeped in around the edge of the door, and as if seeing Miley awake gave her permission to enter, she did just that.

“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, sweetie,” her mother said, smiling.

Miley forced a smile in return. She hated it when her mother called her that. There was no real sweetness between them anymore, not since Miley had grown old enough to know just how fucked up her parents really were.

“Thanks, Mom,” Miley said, hoping that would be the end of it.

Instead, her mother crossed the room and dropped down onto the edge of the bed.

Uncomfortable, Miley pushed herself up to sit with her back rested on her pillows.

When her mother laid a hand on her knee, Miley already knew what was coming. The way she squeezed suggested everything.

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