Page 20 of Broken Arranged Mate
Aidan and Emin take the Ambersky wolves away, and I’m left standing there with Dorian Fields, who spits again and looks at me, his expression unreadable.
“For both our sakes,” he mutters, after a long, pregnant pause, “I hope this marriage works out.”
***
I exhaust myself, working back through the borderlands twice before allowing myself to head back to the city. I’m still working on assembling a council, and I know that it’s probably not very smart for me to travel alone like this, but there’s nothing I can do about it.
Dorian has Emin, a friend from childhood, and Aidan, who has more than proven his loyalty. Besides my sister andmother—who could not do much to protect me in the case of an attack—I have nobody to travel with. No other shifter I trust to have my back.
A voice in the back of my head tells me that I could trust Wyn, that I’ve known him since we were kids, that I trust him to watch over my sister when I’m not away. But trusting him to be a decent man and trusting him with leadership of the pack—those are two different things.
I’m just rounding some of the largest dunes when I catch a scent on the wind that couldn’t possibly be present here.
Even though there’s no way she’s in this territory, I follow it, tracking it over the dunes and through valleys, across scrubby, patchy land with low-lying trees, until I come across the watchtower from the other day.
And the little blue SUV was parked right out front.
Anger and fear compound inside me as I shift back, bursting through the front door and racing up the stairs, practically shaking with fury.
How could she do something sostupid? How could she come here, knowing the threat against her life? Without even asking me? And surely there’s no way her brother knows where she is.
“Ash—”
I cut off when a piece of wood flies at me, somehow catching me off guard and knocking the air right out of my lungs.
“Oren?” Ash cries, and I jump back when I realize she has a knife in her other hand, and she looks three seconds from using it on me.
How did I let my guard down like that? I press my back to the wall, reminding myself thatthisis precisely why I’d decidedto stay away from her. When I’m near her, I can’t think straight, to the point of letting my fear cloud my judgment.
If I die, the Grayhide pack will never recover. It will descend into infighting and endless violence. I have to prioritize that over my feelings for her.
Even with this internal coaching, I stand tall, turn to her, and growl, “What are youdoinghere?”
Her brow wrinkles, and I resist the urge to reach forward, press a thumb to the lines that appear there, just between her eyes. She’s holding a tape measurer, wearing nothing but a pair of overalls and a lacy little bra, and my mouth goes dry, body suddenly alert.
I use the energy to stand up straight and avert my eyes from her before I do something I regret.
“I’m just taking some measurements for the wedding,” she says, nonchalantly, like she can’t believeI’macting like this.
“Just—Ash, you cannotbe in this territory without some protection—”
She looks pointedly at the wood on the floor, the beam she used to hit me in the stomach. “Seems like you’re the one who needs protection.”
The growl that comes out of me is rough, half-formed. “Ash. This is not a fucking joke. There are guys out here who would rip you to pieces if they caught scent of you. In fact, I’m shocked they haven’t already—”
“Oh.” She looks disappointed. “My scent-blocker must have worn off.”
“I don’t even know what to say to that.” For being an alpha leader, I feel completely out of control when I’m near her, especially since she’s gone back to taking measurements, jottinglittle figures down in her spiral notebook. Without thinking, I stalk over to her, take her by the shoulders, and turn her around to face me. “Ash. Listen to me. You want to come out here, okay. But you tell me. And I will accompany you. I won’t be able to live with myself if something happens to you. Do you understand?”
I must look wild, because the expression on her face is open—eyes wide, lips slightly parted. Perhaps fear, or resignation. I can never read them quite clearly enough, and now more than ever, I wish I knew what was going on in her head.
Briefly, so fast I almost miss it, her eyes dart down to my lips, and the sight of it sends a ripple of electricity, awareness, through my entire body.
“Okay,” she rasps, pushing out of my arms and stepping back, her eyes anywhere but on mine as she wraps her arms around herself, like she’s cold. “I will. I’ll tell you if I decide to come.”
“Okay,” I parrot, wondering what the hell is wrong with me, and why I can’t tear my eyes away from her.
When she looks at me again, that expression from earlier is gone, replaced with something amused, a buoyant, casual disposition. “But if you’re going to be here,” she says, breezing past me and picking up a little laser level, pushing it into my hands, “then you’re going to help.”
