Page 13 of Broken Arranged Mate
“That’s right,” Reeyan says, eyebrows shooting up. Once again, he glances between the two of us, like I might have some answer for why Ash would know that. “You are Ambersky, right?”
“Yes.” Ash, apparently fed up with my hesitancy, reaches for my spoon, pulls the creme brûlée toward herself, and cracks through the top, crunchy layer. Through her bite, she says, “And I’ve studied the Grayhide pack extensively. Know your enemy and all that.”
The two of them talk about history for another five minutes, then Landon finally receives my signals to get this man away from our table. The second he’s gone, I turn to my fiancée.
“Why did you know that?” I ask, hackles already rising, defenses going up around me.
She watches me for a second, then drags her spoon slowly between her lips, almost like she knows how distracting it is for me. “I told him, I—”
“I heard.” I know I’m interrupting her, but I can’t stop myself. “What possible reason could you have for studying Grayhide history like that?”
Her spoon hits the ceramic dish with aclang, and she scowls at me. “Oh, besides having a brain and being able to read?”
“Don’t be a smartass.”
“I didn’t realize education offended you,” she bristles. “Except it didn’t—not when you found out Reeyan was a historian. So is it knowing history, or justmeknowing it that bothers you?”
Without giving me a chance to respond, she stands up, leaving the other half of the creme brûlée sitting there.
I sit in the middle of the party that’s being thrown for me, feeling remarkably alone.
I’m not offended that Ash knows our history. I’m wary of her—of her boldness, of the way I can see her mind working.She’s smart. That much is clear. At the worst, she’s a plant by the Ambersky to take me down. It’s not likely, but it is possible.
And at best, she knows enough to easily see my shortcomings. It’s clear that she must have gone through the same training as her brother, despite the fact that she would never be able to pursue the alpha leader role.
The last thing I need is another person poised to critique my shortcomings.
I glance around at the party. Unable to locate my fiancé, I sigh, and my eyes land on the half-finished dessert. Her spoon is still warm when I pick it up and take a bite, assuming the chance of poison is low, considering she ate enough of it herself.
Vanilla bursts in my mouth, crunch chasing hot chasing cool. The berry is tart and ripe with flavor, a sharp contrast to the cream of the custard.
It’s better than just good—it’s fucking delicious.
Chapter 8 - Ash
“So what did the two of you talk about?”
I startle when Dorian starts to talk, his deep voice cutting through the cab of his truck. Outside the truck, the landscape is slowly melting from the red rocks of Ambersky to the shifting sands of Grayhide territory, cacti springing up in the distance. I was lost deep in thought—about Oren and this entire situation—so it takes me a second to register what my brother has asked.
“Me and who?” It’s a question to buy me time. I know who he’s talking about.
He levels a look at me. “Oren.”
“Oh,” I turn, looking out the window, thinking about his comment toward that old couple, his dancing, his refusal to try the creme brûlée. How untrusting he is, how much he didn’t like me knowing anything about the Grayhides.
How clearly shocked he was that I wouldn’t just be an omega with an empty head. But I shouldn’t be surprised—a lot of shifters say they want progress, but cling to the old stereotypes about omegas, alphas, betas.
“Oh?” Dorian prompts, and I realize I didn’t really answer him.
I shrug one shoulder. “Nothing. Oren doesn’t really talk.”
A long pause stretches out between us, and Dorian lets out a sigh. “Ash, you know you don’t have to do this, right? I know you want to be there for the pack, but we can figure something else out. Without you having to marry a…”
He trails off, and I let out a bark of laughter, “Awhat, Dorian?” Turning in the seat, I face him, the belt straining against my shoulder. “I thought you and Oren were friends.”
“We are,” Dorian assures me, suppressing a smile as he glances over at me, turning onto the road that’s going to lead us to the border crossing. “But that doesn’t mean I think you shouldmarryhim.”
“It’s not that serious.” I shrug again, not wanting to let my brother onto the truth. I’ve managed to keep the truth about me and Oren a secret—right after it happened, and even when he came to Ambersky, integrated himself into our lives for a full year. Nobody ever suspected a thing.
