The Alpha’s Forced Mate
Chapter 7

Blake

Flowers lined the smaller tables surrounding the long table in the grand dining hall. White lilies, lush pink orchids, and red roses poured from various vases situated between silvery gift boxes. Cream paper bags were piled at the end of a table I passed as I made my way to the other side of the room.

My mother sat near the head of the dining table with my grandmother across from her. As I took my seat, the remaining participants of the trial, minus Veronica, stood up all at once. Even Carrie, injured as she was, managed to stand and offer me a wistful smile.

I nodded for them to sit down. “Thank you for joining me.”

Veronica snorted under her breath, saying something that sounded like, “Like we had a choice.”

Though Carrie giggled lightly, the other two women looked aghast with horror. I didn’t mind it one bit. The fact that Veronica had an actual personality that wasn’t wrapped around pleasing me made her much more appealing. It wasn’t clear whether or not that was her plan. If it was, it was working decently.

Not like it matters, I considered. This is all just to keep my mother off my back.

Mom pressed her l!ps together and rang a bell for the servants to bring the food to the table. While a medley of dishes from roasted chicken to smoked ribs were presented, I checked my text messages.

Jermaine had sent an update that the estate was secure. All the animals were safely returned to their respective dwellings. The handlers were paid. Nothing appeared to be out of place as far as safety protocols.

The group chat blew up as soon as Jermaine dropped a message in there.

Every one of my best friends had something to say about the event.

It all started with Jermaine’s most friendly text: Blake kicked the hottest chick from the event.

I rolled my eyes and typed: She wasn’t helpful.

She doesn’t need to help other people. She just needs to help you, Tanner claimed.

Actually, she didn’t even help Blake, Jermaine wrote. You should have seen the chick that did.

I tittered with annoyance. Stop calling them chicks, Jermaine.

Milton sent a few laughing faces. No wonder Elva hates him so much.

Hey, she hasn’t apologized for the last time she threw food in my face, Jermaine claimed.

I shook my head. You deserved it. You kept calling her a damn chick, my dude.

What the hell are we arguing about now?? Neil demanded. I’m trying to nap. Stop making my phone buzz, fvckers.

Put it on silent, Tanner warned.

Milton sent more laughing emojis. Jermaine argued about language. Neil scolded them all for being invasive and annoying. After a few more minutes of catching up, I tucked my phone away, noticing that the hall was unusually quiet.

I glanced up to find everyone staring at me.

Years of experience had taught me not to blush under such scrutiny. Instead, I said, “Sorry.”

“Not at all, son,” my mom said poshly. “We just wanted to make sure you’re satisfied first.”

My eyes scanned the women sitting around the table. Grandma was already lifting a rib and Veronica was halfway through her scalloped potatoes. It took all my strength not to burst into a cackle.

I nodded. “I’m happy with my meal. Thank you.”

The others dug in with visible relief. It took me a second to recognize what was on my plate, the delicious rare steak and scalloped cheese potatoes still steamy with seasoned goodness. My phone kept buzzing in my pocket.

Mom elbowed me. “Can’t you tell them to stop hounding you for one night?” she hissed.

I rolled my eyes. “They’re my best friends, Mom. I’m not going to ignore them.”

“They’re always distracting you.”

“You forget one of them is our head of security.”

She shrugged. “He’s useful, at least. The others only call when they want money.”

“Mom, Milton is literally a billionaire. He doesn’t need money.”

“Yeah, but his parents are so—”

I practically snarled, “If you say one thing about his lineage, I’ll banish you from the table.

Our voices weren’t loud. But the energy in the room had shifted significantly. It didn’t matter that the participants were listening. In fact, they should be exposed to this conversation as much as possible. It was one my mother loved to have on a weekly basis.

“He’s no different than us just because he’s a dragon,” I argued in a low voice. “Our pack is mixed. You should know better.”

“It’s not the dragon lineage, Blake. It’s the fact that his parents have…unscrupulous practices.”

“Like you never took a shortcut in your life.”

She shook her head. “You boys have been attached at the h!ps ever since that beach festival.”

“We got stuck in a cave. We had to Goonies our way out. That sort of makes you bond.”

She rested her hand over mine. “I’m sorry, Blake. It wasn’t my place. Eat your dinner before it gets cold.”

And that was it. She had ended the argument before it could even start. Sometimes, I wondered why my mother did it. It was like she was too insecure to go a day without winning some kind of battle. I swore she created conflict just to have a temporary sense of victory.

Dinner proceeded without interruption. The women chatted among themselves and included me every chance they got. Carrie and Veronica seemed fond of each other, leaning close to whisper to each other like long-lost friends. Carrie turned to me suddenly and smiled, leaning toward her crystal glass with a spoon. A few light tinks hushed the dining hall.

“I’d like to thank Veronica for her bravery today,” Carrie announced. “She could have left me in that tree, but she carried me on her back through the woods instead.”

Veronica flushed and sank into her seat. The other two women appeared largely unimpressed by the public gesture. As much as I wanted to commend Veronica myself, I wanted to see how this would pan out.

Carrie grinned at Norma and Marianne who were sitting across from her. “Real women don’t sacrifice their moral code just to impress a guy. That’s how we reduce ourselves to wild animals.”

“Well said, Carrie,” Mom praised. “Like a true mate.”

Exasperation clouded my che*st. Was it really necessary for her to be so obvious?

Grandma chuckled and leaned toward me. “She sure does love putting on a show, huh?”

“Don’t we all?”

“Maybe you should say something too.”

I studied my grandmother carefully. “Why?”

“Because the other one got wounded and didn’t say a word about it.”

My eyes flew to Veronica. Aside from the blush on her cheeks, she didn’t appear injured. She didn’t even look like she was in pain. Nothing about her expression told me she had suffered anything other than anger during that trial.

But maybe I had been too harsh on her. Maybe I was basing too much on her appearance.

I cleared my throat, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. “Very well said, Carrie. I appreciate you pointing that out. That’s why the trials are being held, after all.”’

“And what is the next trial?” Marianne asked curiously. “So we can prepare.”

I smirked. “I’ll tell you more about it tomorrow.”

“Should we bring kitty treats?” Veronica jabbed.

This time, everyone in the room exploded with chuckles. An amused grin crossed my l!ps as I stared at the defiant woman who was hiding an injury from me. And for what? To look stronger than the rest?

Or did she truly not want to be here like it seemed?

It’s not like I want to be here either, I thought as the laughter died down. But I have to see this through. When I declare the winner and get married, I can find whoever tried to kill me.

Images ran through my mind as if they had just happened yesterday—the dagger, the struggle, the scent of powdered roses. Or had it been something else? The recollection was fading quickly, but what remained was a distinct sense of determination. Using a spelled blade had marked my attacker. It wouldn’t take much to determine who my assassin was based on the scar.

I just had to find the guy first.

The mark will turn to scar tissue, forever embedded into the flesh, I thought. I just have to figure out who has the most to lose and go from there.

Grandma touched my shoulder. “Your guests want to wish you goodnight.”

I perked up and smiled, standing without regard to how much food I had left on my plate. “Ladies, thank you for joining me.”

“Goodnight, Blake,” Marianne and Norma chirped. The two of them sauntered off as if expecting me to follow.

Carrie and Veronica were too occupied with bidding each other farewell to even notice me. But when they did, they each gave me friendly smiles. I nodded as I folded my hands behind my back. Mom and Grandma were already standing as well, waiting for the two women to leave the hall.

While Veronica wrapped an arm under Carrie’s shoulder, she touched her side. Curiosity got the best of me and I honed in on the area she touched. The muscles of her shoulder twitched.

There it was—the pain. She’d injured her side. It had likely happened when the two of us hit the ground. The way she had swept me out of the stampede was truly impressive and I should have known better than to assume she didn’t need any kind of medical attention.

Before I could call out for her, she disappeared with Carrie, leaving a myriad of scents that confused me. Among them the smell of roses and powder.

I shook my head. “I’m heading to the den. I don’t want to be bothered.”

“But Blake,” my mother argued. “You left your—”

Grandma stepped in. “Shelly, he’s tired after an eventful day. Let him rest, okay?”

Mom fell quiet. It gave me the strength to leave the room.

But it didn’t give me enough strength for much else.

---

The rear of the mansion was much more energetically quiet than anywhere else. Part of me sensed that people were wandering around the estate—Jermaine was likely making his rounds and the participants were probably snooping through various rooms that they had access to.

My mother was probably trying to keep tabs on me.

It didn’t matter where I went or what I did. Someone was going to follow me. Whether it would be my head of security or one of those overly fl!rtatious women wasn’t yet clear.

But wandering into the den revealed an unexpected surprise.

Veronica bent toward a shelf on the other end of the room. Fingers light as a feather dusted the record collection seated beside the record player. She hummed lightly, plucked a record from the shelf, and then snorted.

It was the same snort from dinner.

“Jazz, really?” she scoffed. “You need more prog rock in your life, bro.”

Amusement danced over my features. “You really think so?”

Veronica yelped and flipped around, holding the record up as if it would make a decent shield. However tense she seemed, it didn’t prevent me from approaching her. A few feet of distance were all that separated us once I’d made it across the den.

“Careful,” I warned, “I’ve spent my whole life collecting those.”

“Why the hell would you only pick jazz?”

My heart sank slightly. “My father liked jazz.”

“Well, he had some pretty picky tastes.” She turned to delicately place the record back on the shelf. With a reverent touch, she straightened the remaining records. “Sort of silly if you ask me.”

“Do you think collecting memories is silly?”

She huffed. “Only when they don’t mean anything.”

“Sounds like you know from experience.”

She crossed her arms over her che*st. Such a stern movement didn’t belong to such delicate features. Yet I found her all the more alluring because of that simple contradiction. While her hair spoke of campfire flames and her eyes glowed like the petals of sunflowers, her body spoke a different language.

One of the painful memories.

I pointed to the bottle of whiskey sitting nearby. “Want a drink?”

She half-shrugged. “I’m surprised you drink.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You seem like you get off on watching people struggle.”

A small puff of air left my nostrils. “You’re funny.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

Careful study of her features told me that she wasn’t. But it was so much fun teasing her. “Neat or mixed?”

“Neat.”

“A woman after my own heart.”

She chortled. “Isn’t that the idea with these trials? God, they’re so…”

“Archaic?”

“And that’s what’s weird too.”

I arched my right brow as I poured two neat whiskeys.

“You don’t like it,” she whispered carefully. “You almost seem like you…” She waved her hand as if it would help her find the right word. “Hate it.”

“Something like that.”

She wrinkled her nose while accepting the glass of whiskey. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s supposed to protect me,” I blurted. “My mom had this brilliant idea that finding a mate would protect my life.”

She peered into the amber liquid. Guilt flashed in her eyes for a brief moment. “Interesting.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.”

I squinted at her, but she was hardly disturbed by my stare. She tossed the whiskey back like it was nothing and then held the glass to me with an expectant grin.

“Silent war, huh?” I teased. I fixed another drink for her. “Doesn’t seem like you want to be here either.”

“Why would I?” She knocked back the whiskey and cringed. “My leader is selling me off from my pack. I’m not exactly thrilled about it.”

I frowned. “Selling you off?”

“Yeah, don’t you know about all that?” She studied my face carefully. “Your mother sent the invitations and offered payment for the more…” She rolled her eyes. “Difficult ones.”

“You’re difficult? I couldn’t tell.”

She flared with anger. “Don’t tease me. It’s not cute.”

“Ah, but you’re so cute when you’re being teased.”

Red blotches flashed over her face. “Stop it.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll walk away.”

I sipped my whiskey. “Like that hurts my feelings or something.”

She glowered. “You’re rude. I don’t see what those girls see in you.”

“Apparently, a lot.”

“Well, I can’t imagine letting a guy like you take me over.”

Something about the way she said that enraged me. Despite my feelings about the trial and the current situation—and the fact that I was hellbent on finding my assassin—I didn’t think I was a terrible person to be around. I liked books, movies, and plenty of music. I had enough hobbies to share with anyone and I could hold my liquor.

But none of that seemed to impress Veronica. And that just made me mad.

I slammed my glass on the counter, closed the space between us, and took her chin. Not hard. Just enough to make her gasp.

Just enough to get her eyelids to stutter. “Really?” I thumbed her lower l!p. “And how about now? Can you imagine it, Veronica?”

Her l!ps parted with a soft sigh and her knees buckled. She nearly crumbled under my touch, catching my shoulders to steady her stance. She trembled while she fought to speak. But it wasn’t my thumb that kept her from formulating the words. It was something else.

Something deeper, darker, more daring than anything I had ever done.

Nothing but a mixed word salad drifted from her l!ps.

I leaned close. “What’s that, Veronica? I can’t hear you.”

“I…I didn’t…”

“Didn’t what? Mean to make me mad?”

She whimpered. “No, I…”

Her fingers curled into my shoulders as she stood on her toes. This was breaking every rule in the book for me. I never lost my temper and I never crossed into someone’s personal space unless explicitly invited.

But Veronica? She had this hold over me that I couldn’t pinpoint. It was like she was calling out for me without saying a word.

And I couldn’t ignore that call.

“I want you to k!ss me,” she whispered. “Right now. Before I change my mind.”

How much more of an invitation did I need?