Page 30 of Broken Forced Mate
Oren points to a chair at the breakfast table. “Sit.”
I remain standing. Moving feels like the only way to channel the restless energy that’s been eating at me since I walked away from Raegan’s door.
“When Bastian told me, I didn’t believe it. I had to pull up security footage. The only reason I didn’t come barging into your house last night is that I knew if she was with you, she was safe. But you’re going to explain why the hell you pulled that stunt.”
I hold up my hands in defense of myself. “Before we get into this, you need to know that your sister is married now.”
“Married?” Oren’s voice goes deadly quiet. “To whom?”
“To me.”
The coffee mug hits the counter with enough force to crack the ceramic. Brown liquid splashes across the white tiles, but Oren doesn’t seem to notice.
“Explain. Now.”
“Bastian Corvelli isn’t who he claims to be. He’s a Thornridge operative, and Raegan was in immediate danger.”
“So you married her? Without consulting me? Without telling me what the hell was happening so I could handle the threat?”
“There wasn’t time for proper channels.”
“There’s always time to follow protocol unless you’re operating under the assumption that you know better than your alpha.”
Before I can answer, the front door slams open. Heavy footsteps pound down the hallway, and Bastian appears in the kitchen doorway looking like he’s ready to start a war.
“Where is she?” he demands.
Oren turns his glare on him, and the temperature in the room plummets.
“My sister is no longer your concern,” Oren says, surprising even me. Despite the fact that I operated behind his back, he trusts what I told him about this prick. “As of yesterday evening, she’s married to someone else.”
“Married?” His voice drops to a growl that carries undertones of his wolf. “To whom?”
Oren jerks his chin toward me. “Wyn.”
Bastian’s gaze swings to me, and I see murder in his eyes. Pure, undiluted hatred that makes my own wolf poke his head up and pay attention, like he’s ready to break free.
“You stole my property,” he accuses with a snarl.
The words ignite in the kitchen like a lit fuse. Oren goes perfectly still, the way he does before violence erupts. I’ve seen that particular stillness before, usually right before someone ends up either dead or in the hospital.
“Property?” Oren asks, cocking his head to the side.
But Bastian doesn’t seem to realize what he’s just implied about the alpha’s sister. His focus remains on me, and his rage overrides whatever training taught him to maintain his cover.
“She belongs to me,” he barks out. “Our marriage would give me legal rights over—”
“There isn’t going to be a marriage,” I cut him off. “Our marriage certificate supersedes any previous agreements.”
“You had no right—”
“I had every right. The Blacklock bloodline carries psychic abilities that activate under specific supernatural bonds. Themating bond. And she is my mate. The marriage was necessary to unlock her potential before you could exploit it.”
Oren’s eyes go wide. He knows about the classified briefings on bloodline magic, the intelligence reports about how certain abilities can be weaponized by hostile forces. Information that’s restricted to pack leadership and senior security personnel.
But he had no idea that his sister and I were mates.
Bastian’s face goes white as he realizes how much we actually know. “You know about the activation.”
