Page 22 of Broken Forced Mate
The leather on the steering wheel squeezes as I tighten my grip. “Safe from making the biggest mistake of your life.”
“The biggest mistake of my life was ever trusting you in the first place.”
That one lands right in my chest, but I don’t let it show. Can’t let it show.
The landscape changes as we cross into Hysopp territory. Desert scrub gives way to rolling hills covered in wild herbs and medicinal plants. The Hysopp coven has maintained this land for over two centuries, using their knowledge of botanical magic to create a sanctuary for supernatural healing and binding rituals.
They’re also the only territory that performs marriages recognized across all pack lands without requiring bureaucratic approval.
“Wyn,” Raegan’s voice drops to a dangerous whisper. “Why are you taking me out here?”
I don’t answer. I can’t bring myself to.
The coven’s main compound comes into view—adobe buildings arranged in a circle around a central courtyard where ancient trees provide shade for outdoor ceremonies. Smoke rises from chimneys, carrying the scent of burning sage and something else I can’t identify.
Weddings aren’t common in our pack. They’re typically reserved for high-profile couples and serve as a function to bring people together. Most wolves are content with simple mate-bonding ceremonies within their own territory.
But I need some kind of legal tie to get rid of Bastian and keep Raegan by my side until we can devise a proper strategy.
A wooden sign near the entrance reads “Hysopp Coven—Healing, Herbalism, and Sacred Unions.” Below that, in smaller text: “Wedding ceremonies performed daily.”
Raegan follows my gaze to the sign, and I watch the color drain from her face.
“You son of a bitch.” Raegan’s voice shakes with fury. “You kidnapped me to force me into marriage? What century do you think this is?”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Really? Because it looks like you drugged me, tied me up, and drove me to a place that performs weddings. What exactly am I supposed to think?”
I park the truck near the main building and turn to face her. Big mistake. Those hazel eyes burn with years of accumulated rage, and the sight of her fury makes my wolf pace restlessly.
“This is about protection,” I tell her. “Legal protection. If you’re married to me, Bastian loses any claim to you he might have established through the engagement.”
“I can break my own engagement, thank you very much.”
“Not if he’s dead. Not if his people claim you were bonded to him in…some way that gives them rights over you.”
The words taste like ash in my mouth, but they’re necessary. I hate thinking about her and that bastard in bed, creating a union of sorts, but Raegan needs to understand the stakes without me revealing classified intelligence about Thornridge operations. She can’t know that us getting married and mating will unlock something inside that will make it impossible for them to touch her, no matter how much I want to tell her.
“You’re insane.” She struggles against the zip ties, and the plastic cuts into her wrists. “Completely, utterly insane.”
An elderly woman steps out of the main building, moving with the careful grace of someone who’s seen decades pass. Her silver hair is braided with small bones and dried flowers, and her dark eyes hold the kind of wisdom that comes from years of witnessing human folly.
Evangeline Blackthorne, the coven’s chief marriage officiant. I’ve heard stories about her for years—how she can sense the true nature of bonds between people, how her ceremonies carry power that goes beyond simple legal documentation.
“Wyn Lemay.” Her voice carries a slight accent I’ve never been able to place. “It’s been some time since you’ve visited our territory.”
“Evangeline.” I climb out of the truck and move to help Raegan, who immediately tries to kick me when I reach for her.
“Don’t touch me.”
Evangeline flashes us a knowing smile. “Ah. And this must be the bride.”
“There is no bride,” Raegan snaps. “There’s just a kidnapping victim who’s about to file charges against this maniac.”
“Interesting.” Evangeline clucks her tongue as she watches us both with those ancient eyes. “The bonds I sense tell a different story.”
“What bonds?” Raegan demands.
