Page 5 of The Alpha's Forced Rejected Mate

I smiled over my daughter’s auburn-blonde hair that looked like strands of pure silk tucked into a fluffy pink ponytail. “Sydney, you’ve outdone yourself this time.”

“Thanks, Mommy!”

Her dimpled cheeks were painted tawny beige with olive hues, chipmunk cheeks puffed up and forcing her eyes to close with her smile, eyes of which were yellowish-brown. Like a mix of her father’s and mine. Like the way her father smiles when he tells a truly silly joke while he’s stoned out of his gourd.

Near us sat a negative Nancy at a stained wooden desk that looked like it belonged in a Poe story. “It’s like amateur hour in here.”

She looked nice enough, the same tawny beige skin with a golden tan like me, almost like a movie starlet, with her red-auburn hair done in classic curls around her oval face. Niceenough, but not quite nice enough to be taking criticism from her. “It’s tacky in here. What a tacky little house.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, Mommy.”

Sydney opened her eyes, those round marbles turning to her grandmother. “Auntie Val, do you want pink?”

Such a prim and proper voice practiced in pronounced enunciation should have belonged to a child of seven, maybe even a child of ten, but Sydney was a child of three with an explosive vocabulary and a remarkable talent for communication. The way she held out her fingers to her grandmother highlighted her elegant style still marked in every way by the clumsiness of a toddler.

Her toothy grin warmed my heart a thousand times over. “Mommy likes pink.”

“Mommylovespink,” I agreed. “I’m so glad you love pink like me.”

Mom snorted. “Benedict from the Bitterpelts doesnotlike pink.” She turned her button nose into the air. “In fact, pink is an immature color. It belongs to princesses and ponies in children’s storybooks.”

“I’m a princess,” Sydney announced poshly.

Mom chuckled neatly, the sound as pristine as her manicured nails and perfectly trim eyebrows. “Only by birthright.” She shot a sharp look in my direction. “And only if your mother mates with someone of proper standing.”

“Not available,” I said through tight lips.

Mom raised her eyebrows, though she wasn’t looking at me anymore. “Matthew from the Graifurs would be a good and proper match. His blood is pure.”

“I don’t care about purity,” I snapped as I inspected my daughter’s nails. Perfectly polished. Every time. “I just care about taking care of Sydney and avoiding Bill as much as possible.”

Like a ball of yeast heating up, anxiety ballooned in my core. I avoided my mother’s cutting stare while knowing full well the weight of her glare by how the air felt around me. Thick with tension, wreaking of disappointment, rife with the irritation of a parent who couldn’t get me to do anything.

Because I didn’t want to do it.

Because I shouldn’thaveto do it.

Our family has been in good standing with the Wildtooth Tails since we originally founded the pack in the early 1200s. We were part of many historical events—good, bad, and neutral. The blood that occupied my veins was that of a medley of temperaments, from invasive ancestors inspired by selfishness to heroes who fought for the underdog.

By all the luck in the world, I was born to a selfish family who hyperfocused on royal blood for the ultimate marriage match, and those were usually handpicked by a male head of the family unit or even the Alpha himself.

An Alpha of whom was currently incapable of taking care of himself.

Unfortunately, my mother had taken it upon herself to find me a match. Given my pregnancy came before my mating, I was considered in poor standing according to royal standards. That meant my time was limited. And since I couldn’t get my inheritanceunlessI mated with someone who could help carry on the family name, well, that meant I was in a huge pickle.

It meant I was broke until I chose some Joe off the street to marry me.

“Bill has protected us for a long time,” Mom explained in a low but authoritative voice, “and that means we owe him our allegiance. You will mate with someone to ensure protection for this pack, and you will earn your inheritance so none of us sink.”

“Are you seriously going to ignore the biggest problem we have?”

Her eyes widened as sweat formed on her brows. “I don’t know what you mean, Robyn. Our biggest problem is that you and Sydney don’t have a protector.” She made her eyes bigger, if that were possible, and tilted her head toward me while gesturing subtly to the front door.

Right—there were ears everywhere. If I mentioned anything about Bill, it would certainly make its way back to him. I had to make sure what I said next was worth mentioning and ignoring simultaneously.

I licked my lips and tried to calmly rub my daughter’s hands. “You’re right. Sydney needs a good father to help me raise her.”

Mom slacked in her seat like she was resisting the urge to collapse on the ground. “Good thinking, Darling. We’ll have you matched with someone in no time. Don’t you worry about that.”

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