Page 5 of Betrayed Auctioned Mate

“Aris said you’re moping,” he greets me, sipping from his own mug: ‘WORLD’S BEST DAD,’ it says in blue bubble writing, a gift from last Father’s Day.

We look out over the town together. I don’t tell him I’m fine. I don’t like to engage in conversations like this—it only encourages them to keep happening.

“We need another punching bag for the training room,” I say. “And I’d like us to invest in a new gun for Maisie’s firearms training. I think pistols intimidate her.”

Bigby eyes me. I meet his gaze, but I can feel his gaze on the side of my face.

“Sure,” he says. “We can do that. Have you managed to get Zane in for training?”

“He insists he could hit a target at fifty paces if push came to shove, but he’s only had one lesson.”

Bigby laughs. “What do you think of that?”

I push away from the railing and take my coffee with me.

“Not that good at my job,” I call over my shoulder.

Chapter 3 - Keira

Rosecreek is tiny, isolated, and utterly beautiful.

Lots of our kind live in the Midwest, even more in Minnesota—back in New York, I often wonder how safe I truly am as a shifter. It isn’t as if there aren’t many of us, but dense, urban, integrated communities aren’t always as accepting as they appear. I’ve never felt actively anxious living there, not to any great extent. But I never felt fully relaxed, either, I realize now as I step off the bus on the outskirts of Rosecreek.

I feel something melt off my shoulders as I see a little gaggle of shifter kids scatter across a sideroad from where I stand, laughing, free, and happy.

I did some research before coming here—I couldn’t help it. Not much is available online about the management of this territory, but its alpha is, by all accounts, decent. I've read that there was trouble a few years ago with the incumbent alpha of the territory’s involvement with unsavory business. But he’s long gone now, and whoever runs Rosecreek today is clearly greatly invested in its safety, especially if they hired me.

A black ops team. I think of the last special ops team I worked with. I hear the kids laughing on the road, and I think I would like to set my mind to brighter things than that.

I find the pack center easily, a tall, modern-looking building in the middle of town. It’s only just past ten in the morning, but the hub is already bouncing with activity. I see families and kids milling outside. Strangers smile at me. I had honestly forgotten what that felt like.

A kind lady at the closest thing to a reception desk on the first floor points me upstairs to where the pack leaders live and work.

“We heard we were getting a newcomer,” she gushes, and I believe her enthusiasm somehow.

“That’s me.” I put my hand out, and she glances down, startled, before shaking it. I feel painfully out of place.

Upstairs, I find myself in an open, inviting space, bright with sunlight. I spy what looks like a gym through an open doorway, guns lined up on the wall, and a punching bag that looks like it’s never been touched hanging from the ceiling. I stand awkwardly at the top of the wide, clean stairs, staring around, taking in the doors and windows that seem to extend out infinitely from me, until I hear movement from my left and spot two figures moving toward me from down a hallway, heads bowed in conversation.

A long-haired man with a kind, crafty sort of face looks up at me. At his side, a young woman with bubblegum-pink hair glances up, too.

They both seem to realize who I am at the same moment, then begin speaking at the same time.

“You’re the intelligence analyst Aris hired, right?” asks the man, approaching with his hands out jovially, as if to invite me to greet him in whichever way I’d like.

I catch his scent, something sharp and unfamiliar, and something far more dominant, overlaying it, which I have sensed since I got here. The pack scent. The girl smells the same.

There is something faint I can’t put my finger on that makes me pause. I’m sure I’ve scented something like this before. For the life of me, I can’t figure out when it might have been.

“Rafael Diaz—it’s good to meet you.” The man takes my hand in his and shakes it firmly.

Next, the bright-haired girl introduces herself as Olivia. She smiles at me warmly, and I think, as I look at her, that she might have one of the kindest faces I’ve ever seen. I’d like to be her friend, if I’m here long enough for friendships to become a possibility.

Rafael gestures me forward. “Come on up to the meeting room; I think Aris is waiting for us. We expected the bus to arrive earlier.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” We move off down the hallway together. I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “I got on my connection early, but—”

“Delays on the highway, we know,” Olivia interrupts. She flashes Raphael a knowing smile. “I took a peek into their intranet to see if things were going to schedule. Just curious.”

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