Page 21 of Broken Arranged Mate
Chapter 12 - Ash
I was never the kind of little girl who liked to play dress-up. In fact, the idea of doing that was strange to me—all the effort of putting on clothes, taking them off again, forfun? Like brushing your teeth over and over and calling it a good time.
“I can tell you’re thinking negative thoughts,” Kira says, glancing at me as she steps into the boutique. “You’d better stop.”
When I laugh, she shakes her head and steps up to the front desk, checking us in for our appointment time. We are here to look at wedding dresses, which I am not looking forward to.
Getting dressed in the morning is, for me, a question of accuracy and speed. I think of the weather and the task at hand, throw something on, and go. Like last week, when I knew I’d be working in the old watchtower—hot, but I’d need to get down on my knees, so a pair of overalls with a nice, casual bra underneath.
I could tell Oren didn’t think much of my style, but if he’s looking for a fashion-oriented wife, he should have known better.
“She’s not thinking negative thoughts,” Veva says, grinning. “She’s thinking about Oren.”
“I hate being around psychics,” I mutter, which makes Emaline gasp.
“So it’s true,” she insists, “you’re thinking about Oren!”
I roll my eyes at the three of them, desperately trying to remain nonchalant. To not think about the way he’d stripped his shirt off in the watchtower, helping me to scrub the floors and rip out the old wood paneling.
“Yes, believe it or not, I am thinking about my arranged marriage while picking out a dress for the occasion.”
That quiets them—even sayingarranged marriageseems to have that effect on people. The attendants are all smiles, ushering us into the dressing room, and we follow. When I move to settle onto the couches with everyone else, it sends a ripple of laughing through the room, and then I’m shuffled to the back, where there’s already a line of dresses to try.
The woman helping me claps her hands together—she’s older, hair graying around her temples, and it makes me think of what it might have been like to have my mother here, or even my grandmother. I push the thought away. It won’t do any good for me to get worked up over it now, while this woman is trying to tell me about the dresses.
“Alright, we have a variety of styles here for you to try, just to get a feeling of what you like, okay? So we can narrow it down into shape, feeling, color—does that make sense?”
I nod, and another attendant steps forward, helping me into the first dress. It’s large, with a corset top and a huge train, which makes me feel like I’m going to be involved in a royal wedding.
Which, I guess, in some ways, I am.
When it’s on, I turn to walk back out to the sitting room, but they catch me by the arm, laughing as they tug on the accompanying gloves. Everything about it feels wrong, but part of the fun is supposed to be playing dress up, so I turn and walk out into the room.
Veva bursts into laughter the moment she sees me, while Kira shushes her, saying something under her breath likeshe couldn't like it!
I don’t. But I’m not going to say that in front of the woman who picked out the dress.
“It’s so…Victorian,” Emaline says, looking genuinely like she enjoys it. If she and Aidan had gone for a big wedding, I could have seen her wearing something like this.
Weddings aren’t as common in our pack. When they happen, it’s usually for high-profile couples, a function to bring many people together.
“I love the gloves,” Veva says, barely managing to get the words out before another peel of laughter bursts through her lips.
“I’m not sure it’s for me,” I say, trying to be diplomatic. Before I can turn and head back to the dressing room, the door to the shop opens and two people come in—one a familiar face, and the other recognizable in a different kind of way.
Beth grins at me, then turns and pulls a handkerchief from her bag, revealing the woman behind her.
Her hair is lighter, but I see the resemblance straight away. She has the same straight nose and serious dark eyes, her almost yellow-blonde hair short under a dark green beanie. With straight-legged pants, a pair of combat boots, and what looks like an older man’s loose, button-up shirt, she looks like the person who’s too cool to be friends with me.
Just behind her is a tall Grayhide alpha with a mop of golden-blonde hair and a pair of deep brown eyes. His gaze sweeps the room, then he steps inside with her, still glancing around like there might be a threat inside the boutique.
It must be the protection Oren sent her with. A bodyguard to make sure his only sister would be safe in Ambersky territory.
When Raegan sees me, she smiles, stepping forward past Beth and sticking her hand out. I look down at it, and she laughs.
“Hi—sorry, is it awkward to shake hands?”
Her easy laugh makes me relax. “No, it’s okay—this is weird. And I’m in a wedding dress.”
