Page 3 of Forsaken Fate

Brynna tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled again, but I saw the slightest flinch when Grayson said the word mine. She took a step forward and put a quick kiss on Grayson’s cheek while patting him on the arm. “I think he means to say I’m his…um…betrothed.”

It felt like my heart and my dick went straight down to my shoes. Grayson’s betrothed? It was an odd, archaic word to use. It meant something entirely different among shifters than it did to humans. It meant…she was going to let him claim her? As his mate? And she looked like her? I took a quick check behind me. This seemed like the kind of intel Doyle should have disclosed. It seemed like the kind of thing Grayson should have disclosed.

“Well,” I said, shooting her a friendly wink. “Congratulations. I’m sorry we’ve had to meet for the first time under these circumstances. Grayson, I really think you need to get in there.”

Brynna smiled and stepped forward, taking Grayson’s hand. They walked in together, making their way toward Diana’s casket. The crowd parted and the murmuring died down. I know it was partly out of respect for Grayson, Diana’s true son. But I knew most of the people in that room had their eyes on the marvel that was Brynna Carrington.

I found Doyle quickly enough and jabbed him in the ribs. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me about her?”

Doyle shook his head. “Uh, didn’t occur to me that Grayson hadn’t.”

“How did he? When did he ...”

“Score a knockout like that? Believe me, I’m not sure. She’s sweet as hell too.”

“Are they fated?”

“I don’t know,” Doyle said. “Everyone kind of assumes so. Otherwise, what does she see in him?”

She unsettled me. Deeply. Grayson’s driver had made his way behind them and quietly tapped Brynna on the shoulder. She smiled up at him and peeled off her coat. He draped it across his arm and blended back into the crowd.

She wore a bright blue dress with a silver zipper in the back that went all the way down over the curve of her perfect round ass, making the fabric hug her tight. She turned, shook hands, leaned in for quick, meaningless hugs and I couldn’t stop staring at her pert breasts, straining against the fabric of that dress. It was cut square across the top of them; they were barely contained. Why the hell did she wear something like that to something like this?

Good God, I thought. I needed to get a grip, find a woman. She was with Grayson?

“I know what you mean, buddy,” Doyle said at my side, though I hadn’t voiced any of my thoughts. Clearly he had some version of the same ones. “We’ve all been thinking it since the moment he brought her around. So yeah. Either they’re fated or Grayson's already marked her. Word is he’s planning to formally claim her at The Gathering next month.”

White hot rage poured through me at the thought…at the imagined vision of my step-brother sinking his teeth into the base of that girl’s neck. Then, I imagined doing it myself. She would taste so sweet. So pure. I shook my head, forcing the vision to fade. The Gathering. An archaic ritual brought back by a few of the shifter-friendly states after the war ended. It was a shifter summit of sorts. A way to settle business, boundary disputes, and resolve other conflicts before they reached the level of another war.

“Yeah,” I said. “When was that? When did he start bringing her around?”

“What is this, September?” Doyle answered. “Not that long ago, really. Right before the holidays Diana had her annual pre-Christmas fundraiser gala. Grayson brought her to that.”

“Any idea what Diana’s take on her was?” I was dying to know. Diana had a long history of cock blocking Grayson. No one was ever good enough for him. She’d been grooming him for a power seat since the war ended. She wanted him with future First Lady of New York material. It would never happen, I knew. Grayson was impetuous. Not overtly bright but that alone wouldn’t preclude it. But he wasn’t cut out for politics. He’d never survive a physical challenge if another Alpha wanted to make it. Not without help. He’d always gone along with whatever Diana wanted. I wondered what would happen now that she wasn’t around to smooth things over for him or cast a powerful spell. A part of me felt a little sorry for him. He had no idea how much his life would change.

Doyle shook his head. “She was working as a secretary or file girl or something in Governor Dorran’s...er…Diana’s office. When Diana found out he tapped it, she went ape shit and pulled some strings to get Brynna fired. It backfired though because they’re still a thing. And now he’s gonna formally claim her and Diana’s not here to stop it. Word is he’s going to do it the old-fashioned way. In front of witnesses at the Gathering.”

It got hard to breathe. I felt my wolf stir. I couldn’t shake the image of Grayson bringing this girl into the circle at the Gathering, getting her on her knees, then sinking his teeth into her. After that…she’d be his. Linked. Physically and telepathically. Branded. God. Then he could mate with her if she wanted it.

Grayson and Brynna had made their way to Diana’s casket. Grayson’s shoulders shook but he managed to steady himself with a hand just above Brynna’s ass as they took their place on the kneeler.

“I need some air,” I told Doyle. “I really need to get the hell out of here. Any chance I can do that without looking like a dick?”

“Not really,” Doyle said. “But why don’t you go hang out in Ridley’s private office. Third door on the left down the hall. There’s a study in there. Fireplace. Big comfy couch. Think he’s even got a stocked fridge. I’d go with you, but my folks just pulled up. Go chill out for a little while and I’ll come find you. You should say hi to them.”

“You’re a good man.” I punched Doyle in the arm. “No matter what anyone else says.”

Ridley’s private office was as good as Doyle promised. Clearly, he used it as a sanctuary away from Mrs. Ridley. The place was lined with stocked bookshelves; he had an ornate wooden desk with a banker’s lamp on it and a small cube of a fridge. At the center of the room was a large fireplace surrounded by plush recliners and a long couch. I plopped down on the couch in front of the fireplace and jammed my thumbs against my eyelids. I had the makings of a bitch of a headache. I hated this place. Hated funerals in general. Hated coming back to New York or anywhere near Lake Bliss, my father’s former hunting grounds.

I cracked one of Ridley’s beers. Mixed with my earlier shot of bourbon, it still did nothing to take the edge off. I would need something laced with magic for that but refused to touch the stuff. Still, I was damn tired. It had been a long day. I felt my head start to swim and gave into it. I had a fleeting thought that I hoped Doyle kept his word and came after me. I was comfortable enough now I might sleep through to the morning.

I might have. But later, something crashed into Ridley’s desk jarring me awake. I would have got up, announced my presence ... I swear I would have. But the voices I heard made me freeze.

“Grayson,” Brynna whispered, her voice a sultry tease. “Not now. Not here.”

Grayson growled. “Come on, baby, tell me you did what I asked. Let me feel.”

“Grayson!” she whisper-shouted. More fumbling, the ruffling of clothes.

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