Page 27 of Arranged Bullied Mate
He doesn’t even see me coming, so intent is he on forcing himself between her thighs. He looks up just as I cross the threshold, and in that moment, my wolf takes over completely. I leap, crossing the room in one, and I hit him so hard he cracks into the wall, taking a chunk of plaster down with him. There’s a satisfying crunch of bone as I clamp down on his shoulder, and the taste of blood fills my mouth.
Maddox shifts before he even hits the floor, a convulsion of muscle and fur. He swings around, his jaw snapping for my throat, but I twist and drive him back against the wall, my teeth scoring deep into his leg. He wrenches away, and we collide with the dresser, the heavy oak splintering under us. Ava is in the corner, knees drawn to her chest, eyes wild and unblinking. Blood spatters across her cheek, but she doesn’t even seem to notice.
Maddox is fast; he always has been, but he’s reckless. He goes for my throat again, and I let him. I let him get close enough that I can rake my claws through the soft fur of his belly, forcing him back with a howl. He’s bleeding now, the smell of it sharp and sweet. My wolf wants to savor it, wants to make him suffer for what he did to my beta and every second he laid hands on Ava.
He comes at me again, low, feinting for my leg, but I catch him by the scruff and fling him through the window in a hail of broken glass. I hear the thud as he hits the low roof and then a second thud when he rolls off and hits the ground. I don’t hesitate before I follow, needing to finish this.
I land hard, letting the pain fuel my rage. Maddox is already up, shaking glass from his pelt, his teeth bared. I can hear the pops and cracks as he tries to bulk up, pushing his shift past what his body wants, desperate to match me in mass.
He’s not alpha. Never was. But his wolf is hungry enough to believe it, and that kind of madness is dangerous.
Then, in the distance, the rumble of engines. Not just one but three, maybe four trucks, approaching fast. Maddox’s eyes flicker toward the drive, and we both know he’s out of time. With witnesses, this becomes an official challenge. A fight to the death—it was always a fight to the death the moment he killed a good wolf and touched Ava.
I bare my teeth in a snarl, sidestep his lunging attack, and rake my claws down his flank, opening him up from ribs to thigh. He howls, staggers, but keeps coming. He always does.
The trucks pull up in a spray of gravel, and suddenly the yard is full. Jacob, followed by a half-dozen betas and a swarm of the younger recruits I trained only just this morning. They spill out of the beds and cabs, some shifting on the run, some staying human, but all with eyes fixed on the two of us, locked in a death match.
The crowd’s arrival only hardens my resolve. Every wolf watching is a reminder that this is what I was born to do—not the violence, but the rule of the pack. Maddox circles, teeth bared, blood oozing from the gash on his shoulder. He glances at the crowd, gauging his support, as if even now he might win them over with a display of brute force.
I wait, almost pause, and look him dead in the eye. Offering something. Were he to ask for his life now, would I grant it? Banished, but alive, yes. For my father, for his. I can seein his eyes that he knows the offer, but as quickly as the moment begins, it ends as he lowers his head in a snarl.
He tries to slip past my guard. I catch him low, driving my shoulder into his ribs, and hear the air leave his lungs. His claws rake my side, scoring hot lines along my flank, but the pain is nothing. My wolf is so close to the surface, it’s all just fuel to my fire now. I twist and bite down on his throat, just below the jaw where the fur is thin, and taste the hot source of his life. He thrashes, kicking, but my jaw is locked.
He tries to shift back to free himself, but I clamp down harder. I can feel the crowd’s eyes on us, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on. No one moves to intervene; this is pack law at its most ancient, and everyone knows it.
The world around me fades away in the heat of my bite, the stench of blood, the pulse of bone and muscle in my mouth. Maddox bucks and thrashes, but I hold on, my teeth grinding through skin and cartilage, until the wild fight in him becomes something smaller, a fluttering panic, resignation, defeat, and then nothing at all. The blood floods my tongue, and the taste is so deep it feels like a final, terrible communion.
I let go only when he’s limp in my jaws. For a moment, I want to mourn him, our father’s dreams, and all the promise of his youth. But then I remember my dead beta in his truck and Ava’s terror. I spit him out, sprawl over his ruined body, and stare at the crowd of wolves now arrayed in a wide ring around the yard. For a heartbeat, there’s nothing but the sound of my own ragged breathing. Then, as if on cue, the air explodes with the wild, echoing calls of the pack. They’re howling for me. Not in celebration, but recognition, in a language deeper than words. I am their alpha. I always was.
I shift back as Jacob reaches my side, hand bracing on my shoulder. “Notify the council and take care of Garrison’s body, tell his mate quickly,” I say, without waiting for him to reply. I continue, “Ava has been attacked. Make sure no one enters the house.”
Jacob nods, his face filled with respect and sadness. I know he’ll do the right thing by Garrison, and then I’ll go to his mate as well—he was one of the best men in this pack. But right now, I need to find out how badly Maddox hurt Ava.
Chapter 18 - Ava
I try to focus on my breathing in an attempt to drown out the roar of fighting through the broken window. I can’t look, I don’t want to look. My heat doesn’t care about the fighting; my wolf just wants to breed, and the louder the fighting outside, the more my drive grows. It’s wrong, and I hate it, how the sound of men fighting only turns my wolf on more. My skin burns with desire, and the slick coating on my thighs. I squeeze my thighs together, but the pressure only makes it worse, only sharpens the ache. I want to curl into myself and vanish, but the violence outside calls to something deeper, something old and animal that wants to be claimed.
There's a crash, a snarl, the sound of vehicles approaching, and then voices. Not just Ronan and Maddox, but more. I smell them before I hear them. The air is suddenly dense with male pheromones, some familiar, some not. The pack is here, or at least enough of the young wolves to send my pheromones into overdrive. For a moment, I'm afraid Maddox has brought backup, that they're all in on his evil plan to oust Ronan. I couldn’t fight off Maddox. What hope do I have if the other male wolves are driven crazy by my heat? The thought should fill me with so much terror, but instead, my wolf arches her spine and bares her throat in anticipation.
I groan and roll onto my side, pulling my torn dress closer and trying to cover my body. It’s pointless, though, I know.
A chorus of howls seems to rip the world wide open. It’s so sudden and so sharp that it sends vibrations rattling through the whole house. The sound is everywhere at once; above and inside and behind my eyes, and for a moment, I think it will never end. The fight is over, and the howls are victorious. Thepack has chosen. There is a winner, and I’m sure one of them is dead. But who?
I can't move. My heat has crested so high I feel drugged, my thoughts drifting in and out of my mind, and I’m left completely unable to focus. The stench of blood and wolves, combined with my slick, is overpowering and thick enough to choke me, but I can’t even cough. Every muscle in my body is locked, waiting for something. I hate it. I want it. I am burning alive.
The sound of someone running up the stairs forces me into action, pulling the torn material of my dress higher, and I shut my eyes against the fear of who will come through the door. I want Ronan, but I am so sure I will look up and see Maddox, rabid and victorious, come to finish what he started.
To my relief, Ronan fills the doorway, almost blotting out the light. He is in human form, but his wolf is still right beneath the surface, his hands still sheathed in claws. I scan his body for injuries, of which there are many, though I can see some are already starting to heal. He is covered in blood, red and dark brown, which covers the hair at his temples and is smeared down his arms.
He stares at me for a second, so wild he barely looks like himself at all. My wolf keens, but it isn’t fear, not exactly. It’s a relief. Recognition. And a heat so potent, I barely know how to contain it anymore. I never knew it could feel like this.
“Ava,” he rasps, and his voice is deeper and ragged. He steps toward me, taking in the ruined door, the torn dress, the blood on my leg, and his expression twists with something that’s not rage, but heartbreak.
He crouches, lifts me into his arms in one motion, and I let out a sound halfway between a sob and a moan. The contact iselectric, unbearable, perfect. My skin lights up where his hands touch me, and I clutch at his shoulders, trying to find some kind of anchor.
He carries me straight out of the destroyed room and into his master suite, bypassing the bed and taking me into his large bathroom. Standing in the doorway, he pauses. “I’m so damn sorry, Ava. I should have been here,” he says, his voice shaky. “Did he—”
I lean against his shoulder, shaking my head, and I feel him physically sag with relief. “Still should have been here. You’re in heat, and I shouldn’t have left you to suffer through it. I should have looked after you properly.”
