Page 34 of The Alpha's Arranged Bride

The guy in the office was a gruff-looking man. A big dude with a shaved head, wearing a black leather vest with bare arms even though it was winter, and stained, faded jeans. Chains stuck out of the pocket and jingled when he stood up.

Levi and Blake stopped dead, taking him in. Their eyes swept over him, from the massive shoulders to the big gut the vest barely covered, over all the old, faded ink on his arms to the two bikes covered in flameson the guy’s shiny bald head. He was every inch the token bad ass biker who worked at a bad ass biker garage.

“Can I help you folks?” Connor. He had a nametag embroidered in white on the black leather vest. His nostrils flared and his dark eyes flashed with intelligence. He might look like a meaty gearhead, but he was quick and sharp—and he was a wolf.

“I’m looking for Rome Nightfall,” Prairie Rose said, her voice a little strained. She was nervous, not scared, but Agnar’s instincts were to force Connor back, pick him up by the throat, and shake him for distressing his mate.

Toning that shit down was probably a good thing considering Connor was an alright guy, already nodding and letting out a broad smile. Agnar wasn’t sure where that protective instinct had come from, it wasn’t as if Prairie Rose was his true mate.

“You’re Rome’s sister. He mentioned you were coming. Sorry…” His voice dropped. “I knew you were wolves the second you walked in, but you look nothing like your brother. I expected you to be dark.”

“No. He’s the odd one out, actually. The rest of us look like me. I don’t know where Rome got his black hair from.”

“You hold tight here. I’ll go get him. He’s in the back, working on a bitch of a—oops, sorry.” He cleared his throat, dropping his eyes to the boys. “On a custom old classic car that’s giving him some problems. They’ve been at it all morning and it was supposed to be a fast job. That’s how it goes, though. What’s supposed to be easy never is. I might be a minute, so feel free to get a drink, we’ve got coffee, water, or juice.” He pointed to the waiting area past his desk, which was modern and new with tiled floor, black mats, sleek white leather couches, and a long counter that had coffee supplies and a series of bar fridges underneath stocked with bottles of water, juice boxes, and cans of soda.

Connor left through a door that had a code on it and probably locked after him because it exited straight into the shop, but none of them sat.

“Do you want some juice? They have orange, and I know that’s your favorite.”

How did he not know that about his own sons? Probably because juice was just juice for them before, like all food was just nourishment. They ate what they were given and didn’t have favorites or preferences.

None that they’d ever mentioned to him.

He went to the fridge himself and took out two oranges. Grabbed a third for himself because as long as he barely recognized the old Agnar, he might as well have a fucking juice box because, okay, he actually liked the taste of oranges too. He grabbed a bottle of water for Prairie Rose. He knew she didn’t drink juice because she said it burned in her stomach.

He also knew she liked rose-scented soap best, though he wasn’t sure if it was because of her name or not. She didn’t wear perfume and her shampoo smelled more like herbs, but all the bars of soap in the house, which were made by a few of the women in the pack who he hadn’t even met, were pink with little speckles of red rose petals. He knew she liked reading based on the books on the bookshelf in the living room, which seemed to be a mix of romance and fantasy. She loved baking but didn’t like cooking all that much. She was never too busy to help the boys with anything they were doing, and she was genuinely interested in them as people. She lit up whenever she held her baby niece. She was often out helping with pack stuff or family things and she never got tired of trying to include him, no matter how many times he shut her down, and her favorite place was undoubtedly outside in the woods. She was creative, kind, motherly, wise, and she had a heart so big it seemed it would never reach the end of its limits.

He knew all while trying quite actively not to notice.

Prairie Rose silently cracked the straws open on the juice boxes and passed them to the boys. She threw the garbage in the trashcan. He tried not to be mesmerized by the way she tipped the water bottle to her lips, how her throat worked when she swallowed, the little droplets of water that clung to her bottom lip after.

He was anyway.

Eventually, Connor came back with two men. One with short dark hair in a tousled mess, streaks of dirt and oil on his jaw and the black t-shirt and jeans. His filled-out frame gave him that warrior air that Agnar sized up immediately, out of force of habit. He assessed the man’s skills, judging whether he’d be fast and haphazard on attack, or measured and precise.

The guy beside him was much younger, probably still a teenager, though he did have those baby face features, and he was blond, so he could have been older. Either way, he was the kind of man who wouldn’t see even half a beard until his thirties or forties. He was gangly at best, so tall that he didn’t know how to carry any of it. His clothes hung on him, a white t-shirt with the garage name on it that was three sizes too big just to give the right length, and a pair of baggy black cargo jeans. He wore high top runners and not work boots, as if he was willing to take his chances with something crushing his toes in there.

They were all wolves, but very different kinds.

The boys were completely captivated by the big, rough man, the tall young giant, and the dark-haired shadow. He was the kind of man who gave all the dark and dangerously handsome vibes, but the energy the guy threw was monstrous. The air practically snapped with malevolence. He might be pleasing to look at on the surface, but below that, he was the kind of man to be wary of.

Agnar tore his eyes away when Prairie Rose dropped the water bottle to the floor. She was frozen like a statue. She looked unsteady, like she’d just survived a bomb blast and she was the only one standing while all around her the building was in ruins.

He just about stepped in front of her or moved to take her in his arms to shield her because her expression sent chills through him, but the dark-haired monster moved first.

“Little sister.” He swept across the room, moving fast as spilled ink, and gathered Prairie Rose into a hug that lifted her right off her feet.

Fuck. Agnar should have known this would be Rome.

He knew what Connor meant now. He was nothing like the rest of his siblings.

Rome looked over his sister’s shoulder at the boys. “I’m glad you all made it safe. While your mom and dad are talking with Tadpole, I could give you both a tour of the place. Show you the bikes and the cars we’re working on.”

Levi nearly blew juice through his nose. “Seriously?”

“I don’t know… if it’s okay with Dad…” Blake looked to him for confirmation.

Agnar didn’t want to let the boys out of his sight, but cutting down his mate’s brother in his own business when he’d done them this solid didn’t feel right. It would make for a decidedly unpleasant atmosphere later, given that they were spending the night at his house.

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