Page 5 of Bully Alpha's Pregnant Mate

Alec Thornton.

My stomach twists as memories crash in—those long summers when he’d visit, the years of feeling like I’d never fit in, all courtesy of one smug, infuriating guy: Alec. He was the golden boy from Starfire Hollow, swooping in to remind me of everything I wasn’t.

And every time he was here, he found a way to make an already rough existence just a little bit worse. At least he wasn’t around during the school year; I had enough bullies then, but none quite as awful as Alec.

His cousins tortured me enough during the school year, with their snide remarks and pointed stares that followed me everywhere. But when Alec showed up, it was like they had a ringleader. We made amends as adults, and I honestly haven’t held it against them in years, though a part of me is still wary now that he’s back. After all, what’s to stop them from slipping back into their old ways?

I remember one summer, when I’d finally worked up the courage to join a pack run, only to find Alec and his cousins blocking my path, smirking like they owned the place. I turned around and left before they could say a word, but the humiliation burned for days.

And standing here now, he’s somehow even more intimidating. He’s filled out in all the right ways—tall, broad-shouldered, every inch of him exuding power. His face is sharper, more defined. His black hair is a little unruly, falling over his brow in a way that shouldn’t work but absolutely does.

Those gray eyes of his are still sharp enough to cut, but there’s something darker there, something that looks like a storm brewing beneath the surface. And when the light catches them just right, they flash silver, a chilling reminder that he’s as lethal as he is beautiful.

The scar slashing through his left brow just amps up the “danger” vibe he’s got going. It’s like life dared him to take a few hits, and he came out the other side stronger, unfazed. He’s solid, built like he’s spent every waking moment training to take down anything stupid enough to cross him.

And as much as I hate to admit it, it works. Every inch of him is alpha, in that maddeningly effortless way he’s always carried himself. Confident, steady, like he owns the ground he’s standing on.

I try not to think about the fact that his wolf—the massive, silver-streaked creature he shifts into—is rumored to be one of the largest in our territory. Or that even just standing there, calm and quiet, Alec somehow manages to make the room feel smaller. And it’s infuriating, because as much as I’d love to dismiss him, every glance pulls me in, reminding me exactly why he’s always been trouble.

The man is a god brought to life

I can’t decide if I want to punch him or run out of the room.

Beside me, my mother clears her throat, giving me a gentle nudge forward. “Isadora, this is Alec… the alpha.”

I force myself to move, to breathe, to hold myself together under his scrutiny. But it’s hard to ignore the traitorous flutter in my chest, the way some ridiculous part of me can’t help but notice how his jawline flexes or how absurdly broad hisshoulders are. He’s taller than I remember. Stronger, too, with a look in his eyes that feels both familiar and entirely new.

For a brief, infuriating moment, I wonder if he recognizes me. If he remembers the way he used to make me feel, like I was always two steps behind, always some joke he was in on that I wasn’t.

But that was then. I’m not that girl anymore, and I’m certainly not about to let him see even a hint of the nerves twisting in my stomach.

He watches me, and I lift my chin, determined to look just as unruffled. If he thinks this arranged marriage is going to turn me into his compliant little mate, he’s in for a rude awakening.

Because the only thing more shocking than finding myself face-to-face with Alec Thornton again is realizing that even after everything, some part of me can’t deny just how striking he is.

But he doesn’t need to know that. And he never will.

Chapter 3 - Alec

I didn’t think much could surprise me at this point, but I guess life still has a sense of humor.

Isadora Simpson. Of all the people in this territory—hell, in this world—she’s the one standing in front of me, supposedly my soon-to-be bride.

Isadora. Quiet, mysterious, and, from what I remember, the last person who’d want anything to do with me.

She doesn’t look quite how I remember. She’s… more. The pale skin, black hair, and those ocean-blue eyes have this haunting elegance to them. It’s a sharp contrast to the girl I remember, always tucked away in a book or avoiding any kind of attention. Her hair’s also longer now, and it glides over her shoulders, framing a face that’s all high cheekbones and rosy cheeks.

And those curves… well, let’s just say she’s grown into them. A lot.

But her expression? Cool, calm, with not even a flicker of recognition. If anything, there’s a hint of defiance in the way she holds herself, like she’s braced for a battle she’s already determined to win.

I’m silent, trying to process what’s in front of me as Quincey stands beside me with his hands in his pockets, glancing between us with a grin like he’s just waiting for something to explode.

“So,” I manage, keeping my tone casual, “Isadora Simpson. It’s been a long time.”

Her gaze flicks up to meet mine, polite but reserved. “It has, Alpha.”

The formal tone doesn’t surprise me, but it’s strange to hear it from her, of all people. A small, polite smile touches her lips, but her eyes remain unreadable, a practiced look that says she’s not about to reveal a single thought to me if she can help it.

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