Page 5 of The Alpha's Arranged Mate

“Very poetic,” Reeve grumbled. “You have to know it’s not my fault, guys. Truly, I’m doing everything in my power to accommodate my asshole brother. He’s not playing ball. But I’m guessing he’s been saying the exact same thing about me,” he concluded, knowing from the looks on his friends’ faces that he’d hit the nail on the head. “Typical Darion. Trust him to talk about me while doing everything in his power to avoid talkingtome.”

“We’re not interested in pinning the blame on anyone,” Renfrey said sharply, and Reeve bit his tongue, reminding himself to be polite. Renfrey was the only wolf on the island who technically outranked Reeve and Darion, and it wouldn’t be smart to alienate him right now. “We’ve moved beyond that. Whoever’s fault it is—” and Reeve didn’t miss the warning look that Belmont shot him when he opened his mouth to point out that it was Darion “—the bottom line is that we need it resolved. I received a visit from some Council lorekeepers this morning with a—somewhat unconventional suggestion.”

Reeve felt his pulse accelerate. Council lorekeepers getting involved? That was an escalation in tensions, that was for certain. Was that where Darion had been for the last few weeks? Creeping off to the Council to complain about him? And then he remembered the young man from Darion’s pack who’d come to him the other night to warn him of the extreme measures his brother was considering. A chill ran down his spine. Was Renfrey about to tell him he’d been challenged to a fight to the death? Surely his friends wouldn’t look this calm if that was what was on the cards. They looked worried, sure—and from the way Blaine kept shifting in his chair, he knew the big guy wasn’t comfortable with whatever was about to be suggested—but something told him that there’d be a different vibe altogether if a Blood Rite was under consideration.

“Fine, I’ll bite. Unconventional how?”

“Unconventional … traditional. Like,traditionaltraditional.”

“Sounds like it’s right up Darion’s alley.” No need to bring up what the kid had told him, Reeve reasoned. He didn’t want to risk getting him in trouble if he could avoid it.

“Something called the Rite of Harmony. It’s news to me, but Syrra’s looked into it and assures me it’s a tradition that dates back about as far as wolves do.”

“You’re kidding. That old crap? An arranged… marriage?” The English word felt strange on his tongue, but he couldn’t think of a translation that carried the same connotations. Marriage was a human concept, one he’d found fascinating when he first encountered it. Wolves had soulmates, and that was that. Sure, it wasn’t out of the question to throw a party to celebrate having found one another, but it was far from the kind of ritualistic carrying-on that humans were so obsessed with. “Darion suggested this? Who’s he going to marry, my CFO? Mike’s single, but he’s well into his seventies, so—”

“It wasn’t his suggestion, but he’s willing to entertain it.” Renfrey cleared his throat. “The suggested pairing, however, involves you.”

“Me.” Reeve narrowed his eyes. “You’re saying I have to pledge undying love to some—stuffy, brainwashed, sword-wielding soldier of Darion’s?”

“It’s a symbolic—”

“I know,” Reeve snapped, folding his arms across his chest, all thoughts of being polite to Renfrey gone from his mind. “I know all about it, thanks. I know it’s easy to forget, but I grew up in Darion’s pack, too. All that ancient ancestral crap’s still in my head,” he said, tapping himself on the temple with one finger. “Despite how hard I’ve been trying to scrub it out with booze and bad decisions. The Rite of Harmony?Really?”

“It’s effective, in all the stories,” Belmont pointed out quietly. Reeve shot the quiet man a sidelong look.

“Why am I not surprised that you’re across all this secret old crap too, Belmont? Man of mystery over here.”

Belmont ignored him, which was reasonable. “Matches like these—marriages, if that’s what you prefer to call them—have been known to play significant parts in the resolution of conflict in the past. There’s extensive historical precedent, written and oral.”

“It’s a glorified hostage situation,” Reeve snapped. “Of course the packs stop fighting when a highly-ranked member of one pack is handed over to the other side. We’d get the same result if I handed Darion my firstborn.” He grimaced, struck by yet another horrible thought. What if his brother had children he didn’t know about? “That’s not on the cards, is it? He’s not handing over some kid I don’t know about, is he? I draw the goddamn line at marrying myniece—”

“The woman in question is currently Alpha of the pack back on Halforst,” Renfrey said, frustration snapping in his voice, “and I’d thank you to at least pretend you’re taking the matter seriously, Reeve. This is nobody’s first preference.”

For a moment, he was so full of rage he genuinely thought he might shift right then and there and start knocking over furniture. There was something genuinely intriguing about the prospect, something that lay beyond reason or logic—something that didn’t exactly tell him that violence would solve his problems, but at least heavily implied it might take his mind off them for a while. But as it always did, that rage passed quickly, cooled and settled into a bitter, heavy kind of sarcasm that he wrapped around himself like a cloak.

“Least of all the woman in question, I bet,” he said sourly, reaching up to rub his exhausted face with one hand in the hopes it might hide the expression on his face. “The Alpha back on Halforst, huh?” He shuddered to think about the kind of woman Darion would have chosen to succeed him as Alpha. He could only imagine a terrifying battle-axe of a woman, holding a sword to his throat every time he forgot to put away his laundry or left the toilet seat up… there was something so grimly comic about it that he found himself hiding his smile with the palm of his hand. What a deeply, miserably absurd situation this was. “I feel worse for her than I do for myself, and that’s saying something. This is really it, huh? All other options exhausted?”

“Unless you’ve got any suggestions you’ve been holding back,” Renfrey said tiredly. “In which case, I’d suggest you air them before we go any further.”

Reeve spread his hands helplessly. “Sorry, boss. I’ve thrown everything I’ve got at Darion. Short of getting him in a headlock and making him say uncle—but something tells me we’ve moved past that, huh?”

He didn’t miss the sharp look that Belmont gave him at that. He wondered if Belmont knew about the Blood Rites—if he, too, had heard a little rumor that there might be a battle to the death looming on the horizon. There was no point bringing it up, was there? An arranged marriage was a better option than two brothers ritually murdering each other. Barely, he thought grimly. Some dark part of him wanted to refuse, to call Darion’s bluff and see whether he really would go through with something like the Blood Rite. That voice had been getting louder and louder over the last few months, but he was still strong enough to push it down.

“Reeve?”

“Sorry.” He shook himself, realizing he’d been staring silently into the middle distance for some time. “Just—processing it. Fine. If we’ve got no other options, fine. But I want it on the record that it’s pretty shocking conduct on Darion’s part not to even be present while he messes with my life like this. Next time we’re talking about who’s to blame for what, let’s remember who actually turned up for the meeting, huh?”

Renfrey only nodded, which was a distinctly unsatisfying result. Still, what had Reeve expected? Renfrey’s whole job was to keep the peace here, which meant he couldn’t take sides… even if it was abundantly clear who was in the right. Here he was again, cleaning up a mess that wasn’t his fault. He’d spent the last twenty years of his life feeling like everything he did was an attempt to atone for a crime he’d had no choice but to commit—the crime of abandoning his home, his pack, his brother. He’d hoped that building a billion-dollar corporation on Earth and using all that power and influence to fight this demonic outbreak might be enough to earn his brother’s forgiveness. But that had clearly been a stupid thing to believe. Darion had been determined to punish him for what he’d done since the moment they’d laid eyes on each other again. Well, now he’d found a brand new way to do it… and roped in some innocent bystander, too, some poor woman who was going to have to spend the rest of her life pretending to be committed to a farce of a relationship, because if either of them slipped up, their packs would return to tearing each other apart.

You just had to laugh. What other option was there?

Chapter 4 - Lyrie

In the weeks that followed her solo journey to Halforst Council HQ, Lyrie tried to get into the habit of appreciating the small blessings. Sure, her whole life was being uprooted, the leadership role she’d worked her whole life to achieve ripped out of her hands like it was nothing—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t look for the bright side. It was great to see Darion again, for example. The two of them spent quite a bit of time together in the days following the Council meeting. There was strategy to discuss, a great deal of information about Kurivon for her to get up to speed on. There was also the small matter of planning the ceremony, something that made her sick to her stomach to even think about.

One thing they didn’t talk much about was her intended. Though the councilors kept referring to him as her soulmate, she tended to find ways around using that word, not liking the way it made her stomach flip. The impression she got of this guy wasn’t good, however. He was a wolf who’d lived his life on Earth, in the other world—already a mark against him, as far as Darion was concerned, and she had to agree. Wolves from that world lived among humans and other shifters, often compelled to pretend to be something they weren’t, losing touch with their wild forms… why, she’d heard stories of wolves spending months or even years in their two-legged bodies, their true shapes growing dormant inside of them. How could anyone trust a wolf who’d forgotten who they were?

But she did her best not to voice too many of these misgivings aloud. The Councilors were clearly worried about the ongoing conflict on Kurivon, and she could tell it was distracting Darion, too. There was a palpable sense of relief in him on their last day in Halforst, when they met to travel through the portal together to what was about to become her new home. This was her last chance to back out, she thought, gazing levelly at herself in the mirror as she prepared to leave her quarters. Last chance to say she didn’t want to do this, that she wanted to go back to her pack and pretend this whole horrible week of preparations had just been a bad dream.

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