Page 2 of Sold Bullied Mate

“Our trader from the Lighttails isn’t coming for another six months, at least,” Kellen’s voice rises, deep and concerned, and I hold a hand up to him.

“We are talking to Claire,” I say, without looking at him, but knowing that his concern is warranted. I feel the stone around my wrist pulsing, as if in response to my anger. “Are there any other sources you know of to obtain Amanzite?”

“Other than the trader?” she squeaks, and I realize there’s no way she’ll know—her job is to imbue the stones with magic, not to source them.

“The market,” a voice from the end of the table sounds, and I look up to see Leta Parkes sitting with her arms crossed, her dark eyes fixed on me. The newest addition to the council, she seldom speaks. But Kellen often doesn’t like her input.

“The … market?” Kellen repeats, looking baffled.

But I know exactly what she means.

“The market in Grayhide territory,” I clarify, noting how Kellen stiffens immediately to my left. Grayhide territory is a sore subject for more reasons than one, and I’m attuned to the way he shifts in his chair, gently trying to clear his throat.

As alpha, I’m already more sensitive to the way my pack members feel. Often, I know what they think and want before they do, though whether that’s through plain observation or the bond, I couldn’t say.

And right now, Kellen is thinking about his daughter, and the likelihood that she’s in Grayhide territory right now. His discomfort over our rival pack entering into the conversation seems obvious enough that the others around the table likely pick up on it, too.

Emin has the same reaction, but manages to hide it better, focusing on the subject at hand.

“I doubt any of us have been to the dark market in Grayhide territory,” Emin says. “It would be incredibly dangerous. For a mission like this, we would need weeks to prepare.”

Standing, I clear my throat, heart beating a little too robustly in my chest.

“I’ll go.”

Emin’s gaze snaps to me, but I ignore it. A number of emotions are written over his face—surprise, confusion, reluctance.

“When is this market?” I direct my question to Leta.

“Tomorrow night,” she says. “It always takes place at night. We have the rough coordinates here, but I can send you the other information we have about it.”

“Claire, I’ll need a scent-blocker,” I say, turning to the caster, eyes scanning over her. There are bags under her eyes, and her hands shake as she hides them under the table. The casters are already at capacity with the work they’re doing.

I’ll see to it that she has a rest after this. But for now, there’s nothing we can do.

“I’ll have it prepared right away.”

After calling the council to a close, I stand, moving to head to my place and prepare my things. If I’m moving through Grayhide territory to make it to this market, it’s likely going to take me a full day to cover the distance I need.

“Dorian.”

Emin stops me with a hand on my shoulder. He is the only alpha in this pack that I would ever permit to touch me, and he knows it.

When I turn to him, the look in his eyes is as plain a plea as I’ve ever seen. A reflection of the past, an acknowledgment of where I’m about to go, and the implications of this mission.

“I know,” I say, clasping my hand over his for just a moment, before I turn to go. “I know, Emin.”

Chapter 2 - Kira

The kitchen in the alpha’s house is a dream, even if the rest of the job isn’t. It gleams, every surface polished by the cleaners. A sparkling chandelier hangs over the butcher block counter, and the fridge is always bursting with fresh ingredients. The alpha even had an herb garden installed upon my request.

Now, I close my fingers around a sprig of rosemary, sliding down the stalk and watching as the needles of the herb fall into the bowl. I’m making another batch of herb-infused butter, which I’ll use throughout the week in dishes for the alpha and his family.

Humming under my breath, I finish mixing the butter, roll it into a log, and wrap it up in waxy brown paper. Just as I’m sliding it into the fridge, the timer on the oven lets out a littleding, and I turn, pulling the roast out, lips pulling up at the corners when I see that it’s come out perfectly, the vegetables around the meat glistening, caramelized, a poke to the center of the roast showing it’s tender, but fully cooked.

After prepping the plates, I take a breath and prepare for the part of this job I like the least—interacting with the alpha.

I roll the food into the dining room on a little metal cart, stopping when I realize there are three fewer people in the room than I expected. Instead of the alpha, his wife, and his two children, it’s just him, sitting alone at the head of the table, his boots kicked up on the fine linen, a scowl dug deep into his features.

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