Page 30 of Plus-Size Bullied Mate

He has made me visible, made me significant against my wishes, but in trying to take away my choices, he handed me a position I never had before.

I am the alpha’s mate now, and that means something.

Chapter 10 - Hunter

The hot spring smells fresh and laced with the cold clarity of high elevation, and I’m sitting at the edge at seven in the morning because sleep stopped being an option around three.

The water moves slowly as steam lazily coils in the air, disappearing before it reaches the tree line. The world is quieter up here in a way that’s different from the quiet of the territory below, and while I should find it peaceful, I don’t.

The bond is different now, and completely undeniable.

It doesn’t matter how many wolves give you their opinion or tell you about their experience; nothing could have truly prepared me for it. Not the old accounts, or the mated pairs I’ve watched over the years.

Before, it was a frequency I could sometimes tune out, and a pull I could redirect with enough deliberate effort and distance. Now it’s like someone has driven a stake into the center of my chest and has a line from it to wherever Tessa is. The line doesn’t go slack regardless of how far she retreats, and right now, it’s pulling toward the cabin.

She hasn’t come out, and she was asleep when I got up, or was at least pretending to sleep with enough commitment that I decided to leave it alone. She’d taken the far side of the bed more like drawing a border, and she’d faced the wall while I’d lain in the dark listening to her breathe.

It was more than I expected from her, yet it left me feeling like I was exactly where I was supposed to be, but with no idea of what to do with it.

I’d relit the fire before I stepped outside so that she’d have heat when she woke up, and while it was a small thing, those are all I seem to have lately.

I stay outside for as long as I can, considering every path forward I have.

Regardless of the blooming bond between us, just waiting to be nurtured, Tessa can hardly stand to look at me. I can’t say I’m surprised, since I expected that, but it stings more than I care to admit.

Giving her space seems like the most obvious choice, but that requires suffocating every instinct I have shouting at me to claim her properly. To make her see and feel every way that I want her.

Still, I doubt she’d even let me try.

When I eventually go in, she’s sitting at the table with a mug of something hot and a book she found on the shelf near the window. Likely without meaning to, she looks up when I come through the door with a brief, assessing look, then back down at the page.

“Morning,” I say.

“Morning.”

The single word comes out as a mumble, and that’s all I get. That’s the whole conversation.

Changing out of the steam-damp clothes, I make my own coffee and stand at the kitchen counter. I watch as she reads and think about what my next move is with the same attention I used to give to operational planning. Though this seems far more complicated than anything I’ve dealt with before.

By noon, she’s moving from the table to the chair by the window with the same book but a different view. I’ve done two perimeter checks that weren’t required, split enough wood to last through a winter three times as long as the one coming, and reorganized the supply cabinet.

The cabin isn’t large enough to absorb this much tension, and it’s making me even more restless. I don’t know what to do with it, and by the looks of it, Tessa doesn’t plan to do anything at all.

“There’s a trail,” I begin from the kitchen, hoping it’ll be enough to catch her attention. “It runs north along the ridge and takes about an hour at a moderate pace. The views are…” I trail off, well aware that she isn’t even looking at me. “It’s worth seeing.”

Tessa turns a page, but doesn’t react. “Sounds nice.”

“I thought you might want to walk it.”

She looks up then, just enough not to seem completely detached. “I’m fine here.”

Something in me clenches up at the rejection, even if I’ve been preparing myself for it. “You’ve been inside all morning.”

“I’m aware of that.”

Turning back to the counter, I set down the cup I’ve been holding and take a breath. “I’m not trying to push you.”

“You’re talking to me when I’m clearly reading,” she says, keeping her voice calm enough not to be cruel, just more direct. “What would pushing look like?”