Page 3 of Broken Forced Mate
This time, when I turn away, he doesn’t call me back.
I make it halfway across the garden before my composure cracks. The sobs tear out of me in harsh, ugly sounds that echo off the stone walls. Everything I thought I knew about us, about destiny and mate bonds, crumbles around me.
What’s wrong with me that even my own mate would reject me? Every book I’ve read, every story I’ve heard, talks about how difficult it is for mates to resist each other. The pull should be almost irresistible for both parties. Yet Wyn just walked away like it meant nothing.
Like, I mean nothing.
The shame burns through me, worse than the heartbreak. How could I have been so wrong? How could I have misreadevery signal, every moment of protectiveness, every lingering look?
I think about the other mated couples in our pack. All of them fought for their bonds. All of them chose love over convenience, over safety, over the easy path.
Wyn chose duty.
But maybe that’s what I should have expected. Wyn has always been the responsible one, the man who puts the pack’s needs above his own desires. Why would I think he’d change that for me?
I sink onto a stone bench and let the tears fall. The desert blooms around me release their sweet fragrance, but all I can smell is my own humiliation.
Months of harboring these feelings, and it all meant nothing to him. I’m just Oren’s little sister, a responsibility he’s stuck with.
The worst part is that I can’t even hate him for it. I understand his position, the impossible situation I’ve put him in. If he acknowledged the bond, if he acted on it, he’d risk everything he’s built with Oren. His place in the pack, his purpose, his honor.
I’m asking him to choose between his duty and his heart, and he’s chosen duty. Just like any good man would.
But understanding doesn’t make it hurt less. Understanding doesn’t ease the ache in my chest or stop the tears from falling.
Never again. I will never let someone make me feel this small, this worthless. I will never again mistake protection for affection or confuse duty with desire.
The plan forms in my mind even as the tears dry on my cheeks. The Llewelyn pack has been expanding their educational programs, offering advanced courses to students from other territories. Their matriarchal society values different things than the male-dominated packs here. Maybe there I can find my worth in something other than being someone’s mate or someone’s sister.
I’ll apply tomorrow. I’ll get accepted, and I’ll leave this place behind. I’ll build a life where I matter for who I am, not for whom I belong to.
The application process won’t be easy. The Llewelyn pack is selective about their exchange students, preferring candidates who can contribute something valuable to their society. But I have advantages that others don’t.
My education has been thorough, covering subjects most pack children never study. I speak three languages fluently and have basic knowledge of two others. My connection to Grayhide leadership might open doors that would otherwise remain closed.
More importantly, I have motivation now. The burning need to prove that I’m more than just someone’s sister or someone’s rejected mate.
And I’ll never come back to face the man who made it clear I wasn’t worth fighting for.
I stand up and walk back toward the pack hall, leaving the garden and its false promises behind. Tomorrow, I start building a life that doesn’t revolve around someone else’s approval.
Tomorrow, I start forgetting about Wyn Lemay.
But tonight, in the privacy of my room, I’ll let myself cry for the dream that died in a desert garden. I’ll mourn the futureI thought we might have had, the bond I was so certain existed between us.
And then I’ll pack it all away and never look back.
Chapter 1 - Wyn
These scouts have no idea I’m watching them.
I crouch behind a cluster of desert scrub to track the movements of three figures near the valley’s eastern border. Dawn creeps over the rugged landscape, painting the rocks in shades of amber and gold. My muscles ache from hours of maintaining this position, but years of self-imposed discipline have taught me patience.
This surveillance work gives me purpose beyond the constant ache of missing Raegan.
For weeks now, I’ve been monitoring the newcomers who call themselves the Thornridge pack. They’re not from around here, that much is certain. Their scents carry traces of territories I don’t recognize, places far from our valley.
The desert around me is saturated with morning heat already building in the rocks. Sweat beads on my forehead, but I don’t move to wipe them away. Any motion could give away my position. I’ve learned to ignore discomfort, to push through physical demands that would break lesser men.
