Page 6 of Alpha's Bullied Mate
Footsteps crossed the floor above me, and I could hear voices upstairs, but some sounded more distant. In a garden, maybe. There was quiet, heavy music coming from the closed door ahead. I closed my eyes and tried to remain calm, to find a beat in the music to soothe myself with. That was the best thing to do.
Contrary to what Conall let me do with the pack, I was a fighter. I’d been timid in the Mating Games but could fight my way out of a situation if needed. Unbeknown to Fenrys, Shiba had come for some of the she-wolves the first night of the competition. Thalia had escaped the chaos, already out of her rooms, but when Shiba hadn’t found Thalia, she’d simply moved on to the next room. We’d fought nastily, careful not to leave marks on each other in case of being disqualified, but I’d matched her ability and ease. I had been in the top four she-wolves for a reason.
But this…
I was calm, but I was possibly in the home of a criminal pack, tied up, with no resources. Panic kept clawing its way up my throat. I whimpered around the gag, but the taste of the fabric made me cough. I froze as the music behind that closed door stopped.
Heavy footsteps sounded, and the door squeaked awfully as the handle was turned.
I braced myself for Kato’s pack, absent of their leader, no doubt having replaced him.
I first saw his bare upper body, lines of hard muscle and tanned skin, wide pecs and thick arms. He wascordedwith muscle. His figure matched the description Conall had given of the likes of Kato’s pack. A black baseball cap was pulled low over his eyes, the length of his dark hair falling to his collarbones. His jeans were tight on his hips, unbuttoned, a dark trail of hair disappearing beyond the waistband, and I didn’t want to think about if I’d interrupted him doing something. He lifted his chin, and I saw a glimmer of sharp brown eyes, so dark they were almost black. He looked at me from across the hall. My mouth went dry.
“We need to talk,” he said. And thatvoice. It was deep, not purposefully pitched low to sound more intimidating, but as if the deep tone was natural and rich. “If I remove the gag, and you scream, it will be pointless. Don’t push me. We’re far from the center of town, and nobody will hear you, or find you, if I decide to leave you here.”
He seemedannoyedby me. Not angry, not intimidating, not scary. And that annoyance—thatIhad been taken by him, only to be regarded similarly to a buzzing insect that he didn’t want to keep swatting, had me angry.
But why was he annoyed if he’d chosen to take me?
He sauntered forward slowly, light brown boots making a thud on the tiled floor until he crossed into the carpeted living room. As he got closer, I kept my eyes on his face, shadowed by the brim of his cap.
What was it about his voice that was so familiar to me? Because itwas. It nudged a sliver of recognition in me, but it was too far to snag hold of.
“I’m going to come closer,” he warned. “And I’ll take off the gag. No screaming.”
I’d already spotted enough land outside the house to know he was being honest about being far from the town center. Butwhere? I hadn’t lived in Silverlake Valley long enough to get my bearings.
The man leaned closer, and his scent hit me: like gasoline and something deeper, masculine.
He untied the gag from the back of my head. I held my breath until it was off. I did not scream; I didn’t give him the satisfaction of thinking he’d been right to warn me.
“There,” he said. “I knew you’d be good.”
That had anger sparking through me, enough to be a wildfire in my veins, and I surged against the bonds, a snarl building in my throat. He only crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head, looking too smug. “You have some fight in you. I’m impressed.”
“I’ve got a lot more fight that I can throw your way if you untie me,” I spat.
The man leaned back, and then grinned. “I’m impressed. Clearly, this town has done a number on you for the better. I never thought you’d get out of that pathetic, timid shell.Although I'm surprised, I guess Silverlake Valley is doing good for you.”
He pulled up a chair that he’d set off to the side and turned it so it faced backward. He slid himself into it, propping his arms on the back of it. “After all, this town isn’t so different from Oak Hill, is it, Dakota?”
That taunting lilt to his voice, and the familiarity of it…
It wasn’t until he said my name that I had a particular memory of it, the shock of recollection slamming into me.Daaaaakotaaaa. The name jeered in a forcefully over-enthusiastic tone down the high school hallway, the sound of locker doors being drummed against as a group of boys followed me to my first class, whooping and jeering, being general assholes.
The biggest asshole of them all, leading them…
“Aidan Tyrone,” I bit out.
He propped his chin on his closed fist and gave me a sardonic smile, as if he was enjoying this. Of course, he would. He always loved being my tormentor. “The one and only, Wolfie.”
“Don’tcall me that,” I snarled.
“Show me some more of that fight.”
I strained against the ropes, my fingers clawing into the wooden chair as I fought the instinct to launch myself at him, knowing it was useless in my bound state.Wolfie. That’s what he’d always called me, upon learning I was another shifter. While they weren’t as common in Oak Hill as in Silverlake Valley, I felt alienated thanks to him whispering it to me in the school halls whenever we passed. As if being a shifter—like him—was something to be ashamed of.
“Does being a cruel asshole still get you off? Still give you a sense of power, huh? Because you can’t find it anywhere else?”
