Beaufort Creek Shifters (10 book series)
The Alpha’s Pregnant Bride Chapter 4

Skye

Men like Troy weren't my type.

That thought spun around in my head while his tongue plunged into my mouth and his hands danced over the small of my back. He wasn't my type. He was just another guy.

But he wasn't just another guy. He wasn't inconsiderate, and he didn't have a sense of entitlement billowing around him like a lot of men did in the college scene. He was a leader. He was a solution-oriented shifter. He was a wolf.

Most of the college dudes I picked up from the bar were loose-mouthed trust fund babies looking for a good time. That meant no strings, which gave me a lot of wiggle room to get away with things. Grab a few free drinks, hook up, and then go on with our lives like we weren't going to awkwardly slide past each other at the bar again in a few weeks.

I liked cute men. But Troy wasn't cute. He was a chiseled Greek statue glistening with heroic qualities good enough for an epic poem. I couldn't handle how much he wanted to fly in and save me-and at the same time, I was gushing enough to cause embarrassment. If I didn't change my underwear now, it might soak through my leggings.

There was no way a guy like Troy could make a difference in my life that some skeezeball at a bar couldn't also accomplish. At least at the bar, I had the chance of getting the beer without the bullshit. Troy came with attachments. Like a whole damn pack.

His kiss deepened when I thought about his loss. Just for a second, it felt like maybe he had slithered into the darkness of my mind and sensed what was going on in there. Everything was cloudy from where I was pinned to the wall, but my thoughts were clear as day, brimming with a hot shimmer like that of a sunbeam streaking through a puddle of oil.

He drew out the colors. He swirled the iridescent glow into the muddy liquid.

The same thing happened as had happened the day before at dinner. Troy made me drop everything, even my hands. As the kiss lingered, lessening in power yet hardly losing its influence, I found myself sighing into him and wanting more. His arms circled me, and his embrace kept me from wavering. I couldn't if I tried.

No longer did it feel like he was clutching me. But that wasn't what I wanted. I needed him to hang on to me like we were both about to lose our heads. The silence of the stables provided the perfect backdrop, interrupted every so often by the sound of a horse rearranging their stance or the workers outside cracking a joke. Distant laughter floated through the windows.

I opened my eyes. Troy observed me like he was etching my image into his memory. That was just impossible to process-that any man would want to do a thing like that. Even my ex-boyfriend from the state college hadn't ever looked at me like this. Nah, Oscar had never been starry-eyed with me. The closest he had gotten was when I'd stayed up late with him to help him study for his chem exam and he had looked dreamy. But not because he was in love. Just because he was sleepy.

Troy wasn't either of those things, dreamy or sleepy. He looked downright enamored with his eyes shimmering like that. The way he held my hips and swayed with me toward the shadowy parts of the stable and into an unused stall with a gaping view of the field beyond reminded me of something I had felt once in a dream.

Alright, so maybe he was a little bit dreamy right now, but only by interpretation. He was just acting like a memory of a memory. He was making me feel like I didn't make any sense.

And yet, everything made sense. Troy's attention to detail and his insistence on saving me were things that Emmett had mentioned a good mate would do. However nice it felt, I didn't want a good mate. I didn't want my life to be more complicated than it was currently-working as a field manager and studying myself into a stupor each night. I had exams to pass. I had quizzes to ace.

"What are you doing?" I asked, though it was less of a whisper and more of a sigh.

Troy dragged his hand up to my cheek and draw immeasurable shapes on my skin. Loving, light touch hadn't ever made my heart quiver like this. It was odd, and I didn't want it to end despite the unfamiliarity of it all.

"I can't help it," he admitted. "You're just..."

"I'm just easy. Is that it?"

When his brows knit together, I knew I'd said the wrong thing. But what did he expect? He was so much older than me and so much more experienced. I knew that look he was giving me-the hungry one. He wanted to rail me right here, right now. I wasn't dumb and naïve. I was also possibly as wound up and horny as he was.

I mean, it wouldn't be awful to sample the goods, I thought. If we're supposed to be mates, then we can take it for a spin.

Troy ran his fingers through my hair. His muscles relaxed as his grip loosened. He didn't let me go but he also wasn't holding me in place. He was just holding me.

That was different.

I gulped. "Sorry, I'm used to being treated a certain way."

"I don't see you as a toy."

Were my thoughts that obvious? "I don't mind sometimes."

He raised a curious brow. "Sometimes?"

"Well, I-"

"Skye, I'm not going to assume what you like or don't like."

My throat clenched up. A wave of something-a memory, a feeling, a reminder of the past-crashed into me like a meteor finally contacting the earth. I wanted to cry. I wanted to let everything out, to tell Troy every secret emotion and thought. My past dates had never inspired me to open up.

So, why was Troy making me feel like this? Why was he making me feel safe?

Damn that juniper nonsense, I thought. And the tobacco. I can still smell it.

I breathed deep to check that I wasn't losing my mind. Yep, it was still there-the sweet, earthy aroma of freshly harvested tobacco. There was a hint of clove, maybe mint. Under that was a more specific musk, something unique that lured me in like a fish on a hook. I was totally at his mercy with his scent.

I clutched his shoulders while lowering my head. Once my forehead met his chest, I let it out, the hidden insecurities and worries that I carried around because of this weird pairing. Was he uncertain too? Maybe we were just waltzing around in a confused dance together like everybody else who had been matched by our alpha.

Jada had done it. Plenty of other women in the pack had done it. I could do it too.

But that was just the thing: I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to be trapped in a marriage that was going to fall apart in a few years. I knew how it worked.

This was stupid. I pushed on Troy's chest, trying to retreat deeper into the stall. I turned to the window and inhaled the salty breeze. I crossed my arms over my chest, keeping as tightly to myself as possible even as the skin of my back tingled with a desire to flip back around and face Troy.

Gods, what was I getting into with this crap?

"My parents were matched, you know," I spilled uncontrollably. "They weren't like, unhappy or anything like that. But they weren't really happy either."

Troy stepped up beside me, his gaze on the fields with his arms loosely hanging at his sides. He had such a non-lethal stance for an alpha. It made me feel safer.

I hugged my chest. "Their families did it. Can you believe that? Emmett and I were the product of an arranged marriage. We grew up in that nonsense." "Did they fight?"

"No, they hardly ever raised their voices at each other. Maybe once, I guess." I squinted at the distant trees. "Shoot, I don't even remember what that was about."

I saw Troy nod out of my peripheral vision. "Do they live on the ranch?"

My heart twitched. "They died a while back."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Skye. That must have been painful."

"It was..." I shrugged. Was it painful to lose people who weren't particularly attentive? "I don't know."

His hand slid into mine. The motion brought with it an airy, light feeling of comfort like the first chilly breeze on an autumn day. It promised a cleansing I hadn't realized was needed.

I squeezed his hand. "Emmett has been overprotective since then. He shoved me into a bunker during the Gilbert invasion." The scoff that left me was more out of irritation than disappointment. Though there was plenty of that too. "He kept saying he couldn't lose me and that I had to carry on the family name."

Troy's responding squeeze provided more comfort. "It sounds like he cares about you a great deal."

"Yeah, it's stupid." I laughed. "I could have done something other than sitting in a secured basement with a bunch of crying babies."

"They were scared."

I shuddered away from his tone. It wasn't judgment. But it wasn't exactly understanding either. What did I care? It wasn't like he was expected to do anything else except fight, fight, fight.

All I had to do was breed.

I redacted my hand and rubbed it against my chest, trying to get the burning feeling out of my heart. "I was scared for my brother. I was scared that we wouldn't make it out alive. I was just..." I shook my head. "It's over now. It doesn't matter." "Your feelings always matter, Skye."

"Now you just sound like Laurencia."

A crooked smirk formed on his lips that I spotted without turning my head too much. He folded his hands behind his back. "Is that the one who dances with herbs?"

"That's one way to put it."

He laughed. "She's lively."

"And annoying. And sweet. And protective."

"Your friends love you, Skye. Your brother cares about you. Those are beautiful things to have in this life."

Sentimental feelings lurked around those syllables. He was talking about so much more without saying so.

I sighed. "I know you lost your pack. I'm sorry."

"It's the price of life."

"That doesn't mean it's okay."

He looked at me then, spirals of honey emanating from his gaze like liquid sun drops.

I could just die here and be content with the way he has looked at me today.

"Thank you," he whispered. "That's kind of you to say."

"Well, it's-"

My phone's alarm blared so loudly that I jumped. Two movements silenced the alarm and then I was truly alarmed by what I saw on the screen. Lunch with Emmet in five minutes. "Son of a donkey dick," I swore as I raced out of the stall. "I've got to go!"

"Where?"

I grabbed his hand. "No time. Let's go."

And off we went to meet my brother.

Together.

Because maybe if I brought a man to lunch, Emmett would get the hell off my back about having babies. Yeah, that was a good plan. Show up with a man, tell Emmett all about my sexy mate, and then shove off those weird feelings of failure that were a result of not reproducing. Everybody else around here was reproducing enough for the pack. I didn't need to be doing it too.

No matter how squishy and magnificent this man made me feel, I wouldn't sleep with him. I wouldn't risk it. No matter what.