Page 4 of Trusting Her Mate

Here it is—the part where my freedom becomes complicated.

“My pack,” I say. “Ashstone.”

A low rumble moves through the wolves behind Caine. Not threatening. Angry on my behalf, maybe, though that seems impossible. These wolves don’t know me.

Caine’s eyes sharpen. “You’re a long way from Ashstone territory.”

“I know.”

“Why did you leave?”

Because my mother cried while helping me pack.

Because my Alpha smiled when he announced my future like he’d purchased a horse.

Because Dax Mercer put his hand on my neck in front of half the pack and told me I would learn to be grateful.

Because I woke up the next morning with my wolf clawing at my ribs and one thought burning through me so fiercely I couldn’t breathe.

Run.

I lift my chin. “They arranged a mating for me.”

Peyton’s softness fades into something colder.

Caine’s jaw tightens. “Without your consent?”

“They consider my consent implied by pack loyalty.”

Someone behind me curses under their breath.

I continue before I lose my nerve. “The contract isn’t sealed. No bite. No ceremony. But they’ll come for me.”

“When?” Caine asks.

“I thought I had more time.”

The air shifts.

Every wolf at the gate goes still.

Because I smell him.

Not his wolf first. His cologne. Expensive. Too sharp. Cedar and spice and arrogance sprayed thick enough to make my eyes water.

No.

No, no, no.

My wolf snarls so violently my fingertips ache with the need to shift.

I turn.

A vehicle pulls up on the road behind me. Three wolves step out.

Two are Ashstone enforcers, both dressed in black, both wearing the blank expressions of males who enjoy being ordered to frighten people.

And between them is Dax Mercer.