Page 19 of Broken Arranged Mate
“Any time,” Dorian says, his eyes serious when they land on me. “Seriously, Ash. You change your mind at any point during this—”
“I know.” I push the words out because I don’t know how to explain this to Dorian—that right now, I wantequallyto do this and also not. I want to make a sacrifice for my pack, and I even, selfishly, want to be around Oren. But I don’t want to leave my home behind.
My flower garden, the renovations, all of it. I can’t have both.
Clearing my throat, I add, “I know. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me.” Dorian pauses, drums his fingers on the wheel, then turns back to me. “In fact, I think you’ll be the one getting most of the gratitude around here.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I force myself to smile, wave at him as he pulls off. It’s only once he’s gone that I let my expression fall, my feet walking me up the path and inside my home, potentially for one of the very last times.
Chapter 11 - Oren
I’m five minutes from the border, mind occupied with the one thousand things I need to do, when I hear the first growl.
It comes hurling across the sand, traveling in the way sound does out here. Nothing to impede upon it, to stop it from reaching your ears as fully formed as it was when it left the lips of the speaker.
I hear the growl, and I know two things immediately—that was the growl of an Ambersky wolf, and I need torun.
Shifting, I dig into the sand with my paws, launching myself across the dunes, sand and dust flying up behind me. Normally, I would go out of my way to make sure I wouldn’t disturb the sand, but there’s no time now, and I can only hope it doesn’t slide down and bury me as I go.
Three minutes later, they come into view.
Four Ambersky wolves and three from Grayhide, circling one another and growling. The border between our territories might as well be drawn on the ground for how they adhere to the lines, stepping over and drawing back, growling louder when one or the other dips into the opposing area.
Stop!
I send the command to the Grayhide with such force that I watch when the word hits them, landing with a physicality that has them looking over their shoulders at me.
The other day, I hadn’t meant to compel Ash to use my power over her. But now, I tap into it fully, throw it at them, and hurl every ounce of leverage I have as their alpha leader.
Whether they want to acknowledge me as such or not.
Their hesitation gives the Ambersky wolves just enough time to attack, and one of them launches into the fray, breaking the control of my power. The wolves devolve into a scrap of teeth and claws, tumbling and fighting.
At least this violence is suspended somewhere between to-the-death and play—something like the casual hate of a sibling, that frustration that leads you to hit harder than you mean to.
Maybe—just maybe—the process of bringing Ash to my side is already working, dulling some of the aggression between the two groups.
I’m just diving into the middle of it, getting my teeth on the nape of one of the Grayhide alphas to pull him back, when I catch a familiar scent.
Dorian, Aidan, and Emin come flying over the sand dune, their teeth bared. Between the four of us, we’re able to pull the shifters apart without anyone dying.
A rare result for a fight like this.
I stand with my paw against the de facto leader of the group out here. Renegades, they think of themselves. Growling down at him, letting the spit dangle from my lips, I do my best to let out every ounce of hatred in my heart.
Pushing it out toward him, I infuse my stare with all the disdain I felt for my father. The hatred I feel for the shifters in the Grayhide pack keeps us frozen in this hell, not allowing us to repair and move forward.
You will stand down,I send to him, catching his whimper before it drifts away on the wind.If I find you on the border again, I will rip your throat from your neck. Do you have a family?
His eyes glint, and though he doesn’t nod, I know that he does. I can smell his mate, his children’s scent on him.Stop gallivanting out here, playing hero. Go home to your fucking children.
When I let him up, he kicks away, sending sand into the air, and his followers are hesitant before turning and going after them. Their fear is thick, palpable in the air, hanging there like humidity.
I can only hope it’s enough to truly sway them, convince them to stop wasting their time patrolling a border we no longer need to defend with violence.
“Take them back to the pack hall,” Dorian spits, his anger palpable in the cut of his voice. He rips his shirt off over his head and uses it to wipe the sweat from his brow, spitting a bit of blood out onto the ground from where he caught a stray blow. “Throw them into the cells. We’ll deal with them eventually.”
