Page 26 of Broken Arranged Mate
A smile breaks out over my face, “Yeah. Might have given us something to talk about.”
While I wait for him to answer, I try to predict what he might say. Something likewe have plenty to talk about,orwhy do we need to talk?
But, instead, he says something that surprises me, genuinely shocking me to my core. I stare at his face, tracing the slope of his face and watching his lips move as he speaks, not quite believing it’s really happening.
“What I was going to tell you…” He swallows, cuts his eyes to me before returning them to the old dirt road. “My mom used to love this specific vendor down here, who sold these little wood carvings. She’d started a collection—all the animals local to the area. I have no idea what happened to it, but she wasn’t able to finish it.”
“That’s…” I bite my tongue, thinking—not for the first time—about everything Oren has been through. Everything his family has been through, all because his father was so desperate for power that he didn’t care about anyone but himself. “Why didn’t she finish it?”
Oren gives me a sad, reluctant smile, almost like he regrets bringing it up. “My father accused her of having an affair with the man making the carvings, and had him killed.”
I don’t mean to be dramatic, don’t mean to suck in the breath that I do, but it’s startling. The realization that things really have been so starkly different between our two packs. That a shifter might be sentenced to death in the Grayhides, while our enemies often sit in jails for too long because we’re hesitant to hand down punishments that are too harsh for the crime.
“Gods.” It’s all I manage to get out.
Oren glances at me as we near the edge of Badlands, and the tone of his voice is different than usual, a little softer and unsure. Like he means for it to come out as a joke, but doesn’tquite land it when he says, “Wishing you’d chosen someone else to marry yet?”
The truck comes to a stop outside my place, and I turn, facing him, drinking in the way the streetlight pours over his face, a soft, buttery yellow that makes me want to draw my tongue over his cheek, feel the texture there.
Gods, I’m tired. But not tired enough to stop myself from leaning in close to him, bringing my nose a breath from his, noting how he goes completely still, like he’d hate to accidentally move and bring us even a centimeter closer.
“No,” I say, eyes darting back and forth between his. “And I never will.”
Chapter 15 - Oren
It turns out, getting married is my own personal version of hell.
Party after party, more gatherings than I can possibly keep track of. I know it’s important to show both packs that we’re serious about this, to get public appearances in so they understand our union is coming, but I wish there were some other way to do it.
As I stand in the corner, I watch Ash, tracking her progress. She stops to talk to people, laughing and reaching out to put her hand on an older woman’s arm.
Somehow, she looks even more beautiful than at the engagement party. When I saw her in that dress, I thought I was going to keel right over, crawl to her on my knees.
But now, she looks beautifulandcomfortable, in a sleeveless navy jumpsuit that cuts—a littletoodeeply—down her chest, revealing her cleavage. It’s fucking perfect, and it sets me on edge any time she talks to another man, because I know exactly where their eyes are going.
According to Raegan, this party is a wedding shower, which is, somehow, completely different from the engagement party. I didn’t know youcouldhave a wedding shower—I thought those were only for babies.
Everything about this is proving me wrong. And torturing me in the process.
“Enjoying the party?”
Kira appears in front of me, wearing a floral, floor-length gown, her hair twisted up behind her head. Apparently, sheand Dorian managed to find a babysitter, because this party is mercifully free of the children.
It’s not that I don’t like kids. It’s just that the splitting headache cutting through my head can’t take a single squeal from a single one.
“Mostly enjoying the food,” I admit, eyes darting to the little bite in my hand. All the bites are little, for some reason, but I have to admit they’re delicious. This one is some sort of crunchy bread, with a smear of jam and a dollop of creamy cheese. I’ve probably had about fifty of them.
“Now you’re just trying to flatter me,” Kira laughs, shaking her head. We chat for a while, and I try to subtly dig out why my sister might have been texting her. Kira catches on and draws her hand over her lips, miming a zipper.
“Fine,” I grouse, which makes her laugh. Someone else calls her name, and a moment later, she melts back into the crowd.
Even as Kira was talking to me, I’d kept an eye on Ash. She’s now in the corner, talking to Emaline. They must be talking about something hilarious, because Ash’s cheeks are flushed, her mouth open in that shape that tells me her laugh is open, brash in a way that I love.
It’s my favorite laugh of hers.
Looking at the champagne in my hand, I quickly lift it to my lips. I should not have a favorite laugh of hers.
Despite being in the Ambersky territory for more than a year, this is the first time I’ve been to Dorian’s home. It’s much larger than the house I designated for Ash and me. Maybe that’s why she didn’t like it—maybe she was thinking I might offer her something a little more like this.
