Page 6 of The Alpha's Forced Rejected Mate

Pfft, I would always be worried about that. Worse than getting forced into marriage was doing it under the guidance of an Alpha who was possessed. It was right around the time I got pregnant a few years ago that I noticed Bill had started wearing sunglasses during the day. Rarely did wolves find it necessary to shield their eyes from the sun that gave us life. After that, it was a downhill trot that turned into a sprint right into the shadows.

The change was fast. And once we noticed we were in the thick of it, we couldn’t figure out how to get out of it. Bill changed a lot of our laws, so we couldn’t leave the pack so easily. Our homes were monitored often. His lackeys would scour the pack at night to listen to what people were saying. If someone said too many things, they would just disappear. They and their family. Gone.

That wasn’t the life I wanted for my daughter. As loathed as I was to admit it, Ineededto secure a strong match with an eligible man. Our survival depended on it.

Sydney wiggled her fingers and shrugged her shoulders. “Mommy, too tight.”

I lifted my hands from her wrists. “Sorry, sweetie. I got lost in my head.”

“Thinking about daddies?”

I laughed. “Kinda.”

“Sydney, wouldn’t you like a new daddy?” My mother asked in a musical voice like she was speaking to an infant. “Someone to give you airplane rides and tuck you in at night?”

“Mommy already does those things,” Sydney replied. “No, thanks.”

Amusement exploded through the room as I fell into a giggle fit with my daughter. She was smart, eloquent in her speech, and totally independent unless she wanted to match me, and then she would because she wanted to do it. Her headstrong attitude and resilience were inspired by me. Like mother, like daughter.

That was the only time I would assert that kind of thing, especially when it meant standing up to my mother, who was rotten from the inside out from her marriage failing. As thelaughter tapered off, I didn’t miss Mom’s smug grimace and the way she turned her nose up again and again whenever Sydney looked in her direction.

Immature, for sure, I thought.But unfortunately, she has a point about the mating stuff.

Demonic possession tended to spread once it got into one host. If we didn’t do something about it now, we would end up suffering the same fate as Bill—and maybe sooner than we thought.

***

Sydney always went down easy at night. Even with the uncertainty of the future looming ahead of us, she managed to get sleepy the moment her head hit the pillow. Bless her for that because I needed a few hours to myself to make a backup plan.

None of the men that my mother recommended were remotely fit to be a father to Sydney. Mate stuff didn’t matter to me. It was all about my daughter and her well-being. If a competent prince—or even a high-ranked duke—could marry me, then I could keep Sydney safe behind several layers of protection.

It was all I could think about as I walked the hallway on the second floor to my bedroom, separated from my daughter’s room by a veranda. Just to the right of my bedroom door was the staircase that descended into the living room to the right of the garage door, which was right under my bedroom.

So much space to ourselves had us spoiled. When I was growing up, Mom and Dad had separate rooms while I was forced to share a pocket-sized office with their Pomeranian nightmare of a yapping dog. With my own bedroom to spare,I had plenty of opportunities for visitors—which I had certainly taken advantage of whenever Sydney’s father came to visit.

Well, heusedto visit. Now, he doesn’t call or write. I wasn’t sure he existed anymore. He could have gotten caught on a run to the docks here in Maine, where the ships would carry his product to the shifter wolves across the sea. That was his thing at the time, and I didn’t think he would ever change.

Why would he change? He lived such a cushioned life after he left here last. It didn’t take long for rumors to spread from the southern bars up to here about a long-haired Adonis gifted with the art of humor pleasuring every waitress from Bangor to Charlotte. And at that, I gave up on any hope of Cliff returning to us.

Did he even think about me anymore?

I sighed as I drifted into my bedroom and floated toward the window on the other side of the room. Dukes, princes, whatever—titles didn’t mean anything. It was all about character for me. What people did when no one was there to make it count was far more telling of their nature than anything else.

And seeing as Cliff had ditched me…

I crawled into my queen-sized bed and tugged the silk comforter to my chin. Soft satin caressed my body, encouraging me to nuzzle into my fluffy pillow that smelled of vanilla. Men like Cliff didn’t mind their mistakes. That was why he hadn’t come back; I was willing to bet. He caught wind of Sydney and turned tail.

Like a selfish coward.

Usually, it took me a while of thinking to get me to pass out. Tonight was something else. I closed my eyes and lost myself to the sleepy mist that came over me whenever I wasexhausted. Cotton white clouds surrounded me, thickening as I walked along an evergreen path. Swirls of gray silver sparkled in various places around me. I reached out to part the mist, folding it aside like marshmallows coated in powdered sugar.

My breath caught in my throat. “Cliff.”

There he was, that darling scruffy goofball with the short ponytail and the strong jaw wearing his sunny smile and filthy overalls without a t-shirt underneath. An unruly lock of dirty blond hair sprouted over his forehead, tickling his cheek, just an inch too short for the ponytail.

He held out a calloused hand to me, the threaded muscle in his arm flexing when he wiggled his fingers. “I’ve been looking for you.”

I reached for his hand instinctively. “Why?”

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