Page 12 of Betrayed Bullied Mate

“Oh, yeah. Ado, you’re on watch. Check the perimeter and alert me at any sign of the rogues headed this way. They—” I pause, wondering how much I should be revealing about where we are. I decide to trust my team. “This area, it’s scent-covered. As long as we stay within the borders, they won’t be able to locate us that way.”

Ado raises a single eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. He just turns and walks toward the perimeter of the area to begin his duties.

Of course, the grounds are scent-covered, protected by ancient magic and rituals that keep the house and its property safe. My dad was obsessive about it; he said it was the alpha’s duty to protect his home first and his pack second. When he showed me how it worked and explained the intense work that went into masking our scents here, he said my mother would never have to feel unsafe when she was within the walls of their home.

I can’t help glancing toward Linnea. The waves of fear and fury roll off of her, pungent and so intense I wonder if the other members of the team can smell them too, or if it’s just from our bond. It feels like her every feeling is going to bowl me over.

“Are she and I a team?” Bigby asks, tipping his head at me and glancing at Linnea quickly. I know he’s fucking with me, I can see the humor on his face, and I tell myself not to rise to the bait.

“No,” I say, a little too sharply. I can’t help it—when the others move toward her or glance in her direction, my body goes on high alert. “We’ll—all three of us are staying here, getting the cabins ready.”

I could have done the hunting or protected the perimeter myself, but I need to keep Linnea close. The thought of her out in the woods or on the perimeter with Ado makes me clench my jaw.

“Bigby,” I say, “bring back as much firewood as you can. I don’t want to have to think about it for the next week. These cabins have running water, but we have to get it going. Linnea and I will go around to each one, clear them out, get them ready.”

“I can go with Bigby,” Linnea says determinedly.

“Oh, no thank you,” Bigby says, holding his hands up and turning away from us. “I am not getting in the middle of this.”

“There is nothing to get in the middle of!” Linnea shouts after him as I say, “Good idea.”

With Bigby gone and Byron lost in his own world a few yards away, it’s just Linnea and I, standing in the center of the cabins, facing one another.

I swallow, letting my eyes trace over the shape of her, dying to unzip the black jacket she’s wearing over her turtleneck, run my hands over her sides, feel—

“Don’t we have housekeeping to do?” Linnea snaps, turning and stomping over to the nearest cabin. I catch up with her and put my hand on hers, pulling it away from the door handle. When she tips her head up, meeting my eyes, it takes all my willpower not to take her lips with mine.

“What are you doing?” she deadpans, even as she doesn’t move her hand away from my grip. I notice the light pink blush that dusts her cheeks, spreading out over her freckles.

“Not this one,” I say, pulling her toward the next cabin, clearing my voice when it comes out a little too gruff. “We’ll do that one last.”

The biggest cabin in the center was where my mom and dad would stay when we came out here to practice hunting. Sometimes, my dad would invite other shifters from the pack, and they would bring their sons, too. We’d have friendly competition, seeing who could bring back the most impressive catches. My mom and the other women would clean up our finds and turn them into proper meals, making jerky, canning, or freezing the rest.

My dad hated the grocery store—said it was indecent for a man to eat something he didn’t kill himself. Those hunting parties would stock our house with meat for the whole winter, and my parents would regularly make deliveries to other families in town, dropping off casseroles or bundles of meat with vegetables from the garden.

I can’t stomach the thought of going into his cabin right now, but I know I’ll have to. There’s one primary cabin and four smaller ones—Bigby, Eva, and Ado will get their own. Percy and Byron will share one, while Linnea and I take my parents’ old cabin. I won’t have anyone else sleeping there, and I won’t have Linnea sleeping out of my sight.

“It reeks in here,” Linnea says when we walk into the first cabin. I roll my eyes at her.

“These cabins have been out of commission for years,” I say, immediately opening the curtains and windows. “It makes sense that they aren’t exactly fresh.”

“How many years?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I’m pretty sure it is,” Linnea says, popping her hip out and putting her fist there. “You’ve kidnapped me—”

“—I did not kidnap you—”

“—So the least you can do is tell me what these cabins are and why you know about them.”

“No.”

“Is this some sort of weird sex thing? A cult of some sort?”

“Linnea,” I say, turning toward her and handing her a large pot from the kitchen. She raises her eyebrows as I push it into her hands. “Fill this up with water and dump it in the toilet.”

“So, you’re just going to ignore my questions.”

---