Page 2 of The Alpha's Arranged Bride

“I’m no princess,” she pointed out, a hint of steely annoyance creeping into her voice. She was far too easy to provoke. The sooner she lost that trait, the better.

“No, but you are soft.”

She raised a brow at that and looked like she was going to challenge him. She might as well have it out before they reached the pack. There, he hoped she’d take his advice to heart and only question him in private, if at all. She might not be a warrior, but the way her jaw jutted stubbornly and she lost that sweet, innocent, biddable look, he figured she was used to having the freedom to speak her mind.

“I think that we might differ on our versions of soft. There’s something to be said for having an inner strength and intelligence to match. And everyone needs kindness.”

He didn’t bother telling her that life could easily beat the kindness out of a person or any desire for it. She’d find out soon enough. “Don’t try to befriend others in the pack. They’ll tolerate you because you’re my mate, but as I said, they won’t respect you. We defend the man to our left and the man to our right because we all fail otherwise, but friendship is another non-necessity.”

She winced, looking at him like he’d tricked her. Obviously, she’d never dreamed she was going to such a barbaric and lawless place. The way her hands clutched in her lap, the knuckles bone white, anyone would think that he was taking her straight to hell.

He was trying to make their life sound bleak and awful because he didn’t want her to be unprepared or disappointed. Of course, it wasn’t all that way. Families loved their children. Sometimes mates even formed strong bonds, but not always. If they came to respect each other, that was often enough. Prairie Rose wouldn’t understand. She’d come from a pack where people took mates for love.

Love was like peace. Fleeting. Fragile. Doomed to utter failure.

“About our mating…” He trailed off when she turned away to study the swiftly moving black of the night. It was so dark, one could almost lose their bearings, as if they were traveling on the black ocean or through space and not on asphalt at all. He choked back annoyance that she wouldn’t even face him, her alpha and her mate. “We both know this is a mating for peace only. I do hope that we can live in a kind of harmony and that you grow to accept the desert as your new home, and even that you might grow to feel a sort of tenderness for my children and an affinity for my packmates, but that is the most I could hope for.”

“I won’t shame you by calling it quits and going back home just because it’s hard,” she snapped in disgust. “I knew it would be hard before I agreed to this. My sister’s mate already informed me of exactly what I can expect, but it was obvious when he was dropped on our lands, tortured near to death by his own father.”

In truth, Agnar had been troubled by his beta for some time. Alexander had lost his mate when she was taken in a raid. His twin boys were something like six or seven at the time. Possibly, the loss had never even touched Alexander. He might always have been a cruel, hardened bastard. Privately, Agnar didn’t doubt for a second that most of the opposition against him was led by Alexander. He was as clever and powerful as he was cruel. Agnar refused to fear him, and he’d made him beta so that he could keep him close.

After a few minutes, Prairie Rose turned back to him. Even when she searched his face, she got nothing. He’d killed most of the feeling inside himself long ago.

He decided on peace for the pack because he saw what continued war was doing to them. His own mate was killed. He’d been foolish enough to be one of those few that had found love. Pointless. That’s what trusting your heart to someone else was. Everyone knew it was an unbearable weakness, and while he didn’t truly believe that per se, there were times when that link could be exploited. Those who wanted to trust their hearts to another could do that, but those who chose not to, would not be forced or blamed or labelled monsters and sociopaths as society would have it. They lived in a different world, and that involved playing by different rules.

“You might be my mate until death, but you have to know, I will never love you. Don’t hope for it. Don’t strive for it. I’m not capable of giving you that.”

She choked back a strangled sound so all that escaped was a hiss of air, but he couldn’t tell if she was indignant or in disbelief over his callousness.

“The celebrations will already be well underway when we arrive. We celebrate differently than your pack does. You will see all manner of things tonight. What you must understand is that it is all consensual. Fights. Fucking. Feasting.”

“Sounds like a messed-up three Fs.”

“You must stay through it, and however you feel, try not to let it show. Let me speak for you tonight. The celebrations will go on until sunrise and you’ll be present, at my side.”

She sat there, staring at him in silent contemplation. She was his opposite in every way. Her face was so full of emotion he couldn’t pick out just one thing. Was she thinking about her pack, missing them already? Was she worrying over her things being shipped in neatly labelled boxes he’d seen before they left her pack lands, stacked up in her neat little cabin? Probably not. She wouldn’t be worried about possessions when she was no doubt missing her people and worried about the life ahead of her.

“Your things will be arranged in my house as you see fit. You’re welcome to make any changes you wish, but you will share my bed.” Her hand curled into a fist in her lap. He imagined her striking him and drawing blood, coming to him willingly and licking it away. He was immediately hard as steel in his black fatigues. It was unsettling and a shot of anger at himself heated his blood. “I won’t touch you until the point you ask me to. If you should want children beyond the two I have already, I’ll give them to you. They won’t be brought about by immaculate conception, so you’ll have to suffer me at the time. Are you a virgin?”

She gasped. The fist vibrated on her lap. How beautiful she’d look, provoked into a rage.

She shook her head, her cheeks growing scarlet even in the dark.

He shrugged. “I don’t care one way or the other. Should you require any sort of herbs or medicines related to female matters, we have a wiseman for history and ceremony and a wisewoman for healings and birthing. They often work together, but some men will turn into brutes at seeing a man touch their female.” She shifted closer to the window and further away from him, but she angled her face just enough that he knew she was listening, even if she couldn’t bear to look at him. “I’ve painted a bleak picture of us, but it’s too late to turn around.”

“I hope in time I’ll find that you prepared me for the worst so I could be pleasantly surprised to find it all not nearly as bad. Unbearable or not, I won’t break my vow. Mating is a sacred act. Mating is for life. I didn’t enter into it lightly, thinking I could just run back home to all that’s familiar. I might not have been raised the way you were, but our people take our oaths seriously. I’ll stand by your side, as is required of me.”

He’d never said so many words in his life, but he found he couldn’t stop talking to her. “You’ll meet my sons in the morning. No children are allowed at the latter part of this ceremony, and even though we haven’t arrived yet, the mating is done and official and the drinking and fucking will have started in earnest. Don’t try to domesticate or tame my children. They’re a bit of a lost cause. I love them dearly, but they’re warriors both and as unruly as weeds. They’ve been without a mother for the better part of their lives and can barely remember her. She was not a soft woman. Don’t think they’re undisciplined. They’re not. They’ll listen to me, but I’m afraid whatever you think children should be, they won’t fit that mold.”

“I would never hold it against a child for being something other than what someone older thinks they should be. That’s a stifling and unimaginative view of raising a child. Raising means nurturing and guiding, not controlling.”

“Good. It can’t be seen that you’re sullen and unhappy with your choice or that you resent being with us. Don’t appear afraid. You’ll eat and drink with us. Turn a blind eye to the things you wouldn’t approve of.”

“I don’t drink alcohol.”

“Pretend, then. That’s required tonight. In private, you can be yourself. Part of being a warrior is going to war with a straight face, even the first time, when you might be afraid. It means leaving those you love to secure a future for them, knowing you might not live to see it. I know you don’t know this or truly understand, but our pack has known so much loss. Great amounts of loss. Keep that in mind before you judge them harshly.”

Only now was her disgust plain. She lifted her hand and pressed her palm to the tinted window. “I don’t plan on judging anyone.”

---