Page 10 of Betrayed Bullied Mate

“The fuck you will,” Aris growls. Without even glancing back at his team, they seem to have gotten a message to keep going, because they turn in unison and continue tromping up the incline. “You are coming with me. End of story. And you will be quiet.”

With his voice so low like this, I can practically feel the vibration of it on my skin. I stare at the soft part of his jaw, where a bit of stubble has started to grow, and imagine what it would feel like to put my hand there.

“I just want to go on my own—”

“They will kill you, Linnea. Do you understand that?” Aris reaches out and takes my arm as I try to step away from him.

“So what?” I ask, ripping my arm out of his grasp. He lets me, his breathing coming harder now, his eyes boring straight through me.

“So—we’re blood-bonded now,” he says through gritted teeth. I stare at him, wide-eyed and confused. He can’t be telling me that he actually cares about the blood-bond—that it’s so important to him to uphold old, silly, traditional marriage rights.

“So, I officially blood-divorce you,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You don’t even have to take me to court.”

“No, Linnea,” he says, stopping to bury his hands in his hair. He looks up to the sky like he’s asking for courage to put up with me. Good. Maybe if I’m annoying enough, he’ll just let me go. “We’re blood-bonded. And—well, you know what happens with the blood-bond and…”

It finally clicks.

As a shifter, finding your mate isn’t a guarantee. Mostly, the strongest shifters are sure to get a mate, but as it goes down the pack line, you may not. Those who aren’t mated can get a blood-bonding marriage as something to stand in the place of the true mating bond. It’s only slightly stronger than a human marriage, with minimal physical effects if one shifter betrays the other.

But for mated shifters, a blood-bond marriage is a little heftier. You get more benefits, such as your mate suffering if they aren’t faithful (which is practically unheard of, as mates typically only find one another attractive), you have a better connection, and your offspring are typically stronger, but there’s also a higher price tag.

Mates that complete the blood-marriage ritual bind their lives. Meaning if one dies, so does the other. That’s why mates typically avoid the blood-marriage ritual if they can help it. It would mean if one parent died, their children would be orphans. It means for your entire life, you have the weight of two lives to think of every time you cross the street or get on an airplane. It means literally trusting your partner with your life.

I should be happy. This is Aris admitting after years of denial that we are mates, just like I said to him that prom night. Instead, all I feel is a sinking, sputtering dread in the pit of my stomach.

“You understand?” Aris says, dropping his voice and moving even closer to me. For a moment, it almost seems like his face has softened and opened to me, but I know him better than that.

He’s not telling me I have to stay because he’s concerned for my safety—he’s doing it because he’s concerned for his own. If I die, he dies. And poor Aris has gone and hooked himself to a non-shifter, which means the probability of me dying is a lot higher than if I could shift like him.

I almost laugh out loud, realizing I thought he actually cared about me for a moment. I think of every terrible comment, ever slight, whispered to me as we passed in the hallway when we were in high school. He doesn’t care about me. He’s always made that clear. Bursting forward, I jam my arm into his side as I push past him.

He doesn’t even stumble, the bastard.

Instead, he takes up his position behind me, as he has been the entire time we’ve been walking, and confidently commands his team to slow down because we catch up with them minutes later.

After watching Aris mess around in high school with his pack of cronies, it’s weird to watch a group of capable people listen to him. He’s obviously not the same kid he used to be and now commands respect, but it doesn’t fit with the image I have of him in my brain.

“So—” I jump when one of the team members appears next to me, already talking. He’s grinning broadly and sticking his hand out over his stomach for me to shake as we walk. I give him a look but find myself reaching out to shake it. I must be imagining it, but it almost sounds like Aris makes a noise behind us. If Percy hears it, he doesn’t mind it.

“I’m Percy,” he says. “Sorry for startling you. People say I have that effect.”

Despite myself, I laugh. He grins even broader at this, and I get the sense that he likes to raise the spirits of the group.

“I have to ask,” he says, angling his body toward mine so I can see his whole face. He’s adorably handsome, in a golden retriever kind of way. His golden curls flop over his forehead, and he doesn’t go more than a few minutes without making a joke or smiling. It seems like the other members of the group are used to this. “What was Aris like in high school? I have him pegged as a dumb jock.”

I stifle another laugh, and then, like always, the true reality of our high school experience comes barreling back to me.

You know, you’d be like a six if you lost 10 pounds.

Linnea is always the elephant in the room.

Maybe your grandma died to get away from you.

“He was very dumb,” I say, after a long beat of silence stretches out, blanketing the group as we continue trudging up the hill. Even Percy, who feels like the kind of guy with a perpetual smile on his face, starts to waver as he waits for me. “That’s why he failed geometry.”

“I was not dumb,” Aris grumbles as Bigby breaks into laughter ahead of us. “That teacher was out to get me.”

“More like Mrs. Farry was the only woman in that school who didn’t give you grades based on your looks,” Bigby says, putting his hand on his stomach as he laughs. “I forgot about that. Damn, she hated you, Aris.”

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