Page 6 of Broken Arranged Mate
“Shall we go?” I ask, dropping Dorian’s hand and glancing in the direction of the Ambersky city.
“Gods, Blacklock, give the kid a break.” Dorian glances over at Landon, who’s leaning against a rock and drinking from a flask of water, clearly trying to make it look like he’s not affected.
“Landon!” Aidan booms jovially, striding over and pulling the kid into a quick, ferocious hug that probably only makes it harder for him to breathe.
“Hey, Aidan,” Landon wheezes. “Thanks again for the job.”
“Thank Oren, not me,” Aidan grins, shooting me a look, then saying, “He couldn’t stop talking my ear off about how much he needed the help.”
That makes Emin laugh again. Already, I’m remembering this dynamic—I frown, and these guys laugh about it. To my surprise, it’s not a dynamic that I hate. At least it doesn’t require much participation from me.
We linger for a moment, and I listen to the three of them talk—mostly about the recent additions to their families, having pregnant wives, and the barbecue they’re planning next week.
It’s all very sweet. I ignore the way it makes my chest feel like a deep, dark pit.
“Kira was losing her mind at the end of that bed rest,” Dorian says, turning to me. “She got Veva to spend a bunch of time healing her up, and now she’s working out all that energy. All that to say—you’re definitely going home with a bunch of food when you leave, man.”
Normally, I would turn anything down that felt like too much of a favor, but I’ve had Kira’s cooking before, and even I can’t pass up another opportunity to take it.
Besides, I cut down the staff at the house significantly, and without a chef to make my meals, I’ve been eating mostly smoked elk and cans of green beans. If Kira saw it, she would fall over.
“We don’t have to wait for me,” Landon says, and, despite the fact that we’ve already done exactly that, none of us mentions it. Instead, we arrange ourselves, shift back to wolves, and take off for the city.
Dorian leads the pack—this is his territory, after all. I follow closely behind, with the other three behind us. Landon isstill young and tired from the first half of our journey, so he runs behind. I can tell Dorian is running slow for his sake, and bite my tongue to keep from saying anything.
Not like I can, really. Our pack bonds are not with one another, so it’s not exactly natural to communicate in this form. Right now, the only person I can speak with is Landon, and the only thing I have to say to him isHurry up.
I keep it to myself.
Nearly an hour later, we’re passing a motel on the edge of town, and Dorian slows, rounding us up and stopping at a collection of vehicles in the parking lot.
When we shift, I catch Emin glancing around, a strange look in his eyes, but I let it go, not wanting to pry.
“Alright,” Dorian says, clapping his hands. “Oren and Landon, why don’t you ride with me? Aidan, you can go with Emin.”
“Great,” Aidan says, jokingly. “He drives like a maniac.”
We climb into our vehicles, and Dorian chats with me amiably on the way to the pack hall. When I was here a year ago, I was taking notes. A pack hall. A council. All things not yet fully present in the Grayhide pack, obviously contributing to the state of things.
Ambersky’s pack hall is a simple, somewhat dated building. We file inside, me behind Dorian, Landon at my back. Just before we enter the meeting room, an older woman offers me a donut.
I decline.
Then, we’re walking into the room, and my entire body jolts at the sight of the woman sitting at the far end of the table, beside the Ambersky luna.
Ash Fields. Dorian’s sister, staring right at me with those big blue eyes.
Fuck.
Chapter 4 - Ash
This isn’t the first time I’ve been around Oren since that first time, but thisisthe first time in months. He looks tired, with dark circles under his eyes, but still just as striking as usual.
I don’t know how every person in the room isn’t staring at him. Impossibly tall, that shock of black hair, those dark, piercing eyes. There’s a woman in one of Beth’s groups who can see a person’s aura—I imagine Oren’s is black and gray, snaking out from him in dark tendrils. I picture it wrapping around my ankle, snapping me down, eating me up.
The worst part is, I’d almost gladly let it happen.
It feels like the moment in which Oren and I stare at each other lasts decades, but when he turns away from me, facing the head of the table, reality comes rushing back at me, snapping into place and reminding me that it was less than a second.
