Page 7 of The Alpha's Forced Bullied Mate

And part of me wanted to obey.

“What are you doing here?” I managed to snap. “I mean, how did you find me? How did youget in?”

“Your buddy let me into the foyer.”

I frowned. “I didn’t hear you—”

He pointed to his feet—that were bootless. “Took ‘em off. Know how much you hate dirt.”

“So,nowyou want to be considerate? I think it’s a little late for that, Hector.”

“It’s not too late to go back and change things.”

My arms tightened across my chest, hurting my nipples but somehow giving me the strength to stand there. Without his hands on my hips, I felt like I was going to fall. And that was just plain ridiculous to feel when I was still mad at him for his nasty prank from several years ago.

I avoided his crisp gemstone eyes. “I’m not in the Silverfang Creek anymore. I don’t know why you’re even here.”

“You’ve gotten stronger.”

Not enough to keep the door closed.That meant two things—physical and emotional.

But I refused to say it aloud.

Hector shook his head. “Your stance, your arms—” He unfolded his arms and closed the gap between us to behold my biceps. “You’re thickandthick.”

“Don’t inspect me like an animal.” Yet despite my urgent demand, I couldn’t step away from him.

Something about his touch felt insistent, like he needed something from me.

Something that forever lasts.

I tried to resist him with every reminder of what he’d done to me. The horrible jeers, the rotten nicknames, the terrible paranoia that came with looking over my shoulder to see if he was following me home—and the heart-wrenching realization that he was indeed trailing after me. He always passed it off as being besties with my brother, but his eyes stayed hooked on me most of the time.

Especially when my parents had very loud things to say about my weight.

I squared my shoulders. “You always called me a cow.”

“Because you nevermoo-vedout of the way.”

“Save the jokes for Clifton.”

He hummed while tracing my collarbone. “Actually, he likes to be called Cliff now.”

A moment passed with him doing nothing more than following the sharp rod of my collarbone leading to my throat.With two fingers, he touched my chest just above my sternum and exhaled slowly.

I swallowed hard. “How… is my brother doing?”

“You’d know if you called him.” His gaze seemed to slice right through me. “He misses you, Faye Lynne.”

“Nobody calls me that anymore.”

“Does anyone bother to call you?”

It was a hard jab as rude as his current expression, but I did everything in my power to keep him from witnessing my reaction to it. Bullies fed on reactions. That was the only thing my mother ever taught me. Dad always said to ignore it.

Ignoring it never truly worked. Yet responding to Hector didn’t do anything either. I was in a lose-lose situation, and that was why I ran so far away from him—from everyone—and kept their names out of my mouth since I left.

“You can’t get to me anymore,” I retorted, “I know all your tricks.”

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