Page 34 of Broken Arranged Mate
“Oren, you fought for the spot. You managed a transfer of power. And right now, you’re marrying someone, deciding your future forever, just to help the pack. How is none of that progress?”
“You killed my mom,” Emin says, raising a single shoulder like that’s not a wild statement to make. “And saved a whole lot of shifters in the process. You were the only person in that entire room who could have gotten to her, and you did it without hesitating.”
The way he says it is like he might have hesitated, which nobody would blame him for. I’m used to my father being cruel, but my mother? Having to raise a hand to her would shatter my heart.
“Attempting to be good, to be selfless,” Dorian finally says, his voice quiet and serious, “Is much more difficult than succeeding at being heartless, Oren.”
His words—and the others’, too—feel empty. A hollow attempt to make me feel better when I most certainly do not deserve it.
“Thank you for the party.”
“Oren, wait—”
But I’m not listening. I’m turning, dropping the food into the closest garbage, walking down the street as fast as I can until I hit the outskirts.
If I’m following convention, being respectful, I won’t shift in town, but I just need to get away from this feeling, this night. This sense that even once I go through with the marriage to Ash, I still won’t be good enough.
I won’t be able to give her the life she deserves. And around her, I can’t think straight, won’t be the best leader for the pack. She is all-consuming, and it’s burning me alive.
Shifting into my wolf should make me feel better, but it just translates all the raw energy into fury, a sort of carnal rage. So I channel it into my body, use the energy to run until I’m back in Grayhide territory.
Back to the land, I’m not sure I can defend or lead, but I’m going to protect and support until the day I die. Maybe even in the afterlife, I’ll be repenting for the sins of my father.
And my own personal hell will be having Ash close, and still knowing that I shouldn’t reach out and touch her.
Chapter 20 - Ash
“This is going to go perfectly with your dress,” Emaline says, gently brushing eyeshadow onto my face.
We’re all in the bridal suite, wearing matching silk pajamas that Emaline insisted were essential for the experience. Hers is a soft pink, and mine is white, which means it shows every bit of powder that’s fallen onto it.
The suite is gorgeous, on one of the lower levels of the watchtower. According to Aidan, it was once a barracks for guards to sleep in while switching out their shifts. Somehow, they’ve managed to clear everything out, clean it up, and fill it with enough flowers that if any guard scent remains, it’s not easy to catch.
There’s just one window, large and spanning the length of the room, but it catches the early afternoon light and filters it through the room.
My bridesmaids—Emaline, Kira, Veva, and Raegan—are wearing soft pink dresses today. According to Kira, they’ll go with the rest of the decor and my dress, and she was able to put them together, taking measurements from each woman.
With five kids, I have no idea where she finds the time, but there’s been a gleam in her eye since the day she decided she would be making my dress, and it’s nice to see her so passionate about something she loves.
I should be a bundle of nerves, but, for some reason, I am totally and utterly calm. My body feels at peace with what’s happening—it’s just my wedding day, and I am just marrying Oren Blacklock. As long as I don’t think about what comesafterthe wedding, I’ll be totally fine.
“I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it,” I say, meeting Emaline’s eyes in the mirror.
“You’re going toloveit, Ash,” Raegan says from her spot on the sofa. According to her and Kira, they made sure Oren’s suit would match it perfectly. If only I knew what any of it was going to look like.
Emaline finishes with my makeup, then starts on the hair, doing half-up, half-down. I sit as still as I can, listening to the chatter, the other girls laughing and talking about the venue.
I haven’t been inside yet, but it sounds like they like it. If only there had been more time to do the things I really wanted inside.
Finally, after what feels like eons of fussing over my head, Emaline announces that I’m ready for the dress.
“Don’t cry,” she warns, glancing at me as Kira rolls it in on some sort of tall garment rack, covered in a white bag. “It will ruin your makeup.”
“Why would I cry—?” I start, but then Kira removes the garment bag, and all the breath leaves my lungs.
Rather than the traditional plain white, the dress is a burst of color. A sweetheart neckline and sheer sleeves gather up and spill down to the skirt, which has the appearance of being the wind, the color drifting off of it like it’s caught up in the breeze.
“Flowers,” I whisper, stepping forward and touching my finger to one of the blooms, a sob catching right in my throat. “The flowers I have inmygarden.”
