Beaufort Creek Shifters (10 book series)
The Wolf’s Bullied Mate Chapter 2

Jada

What a massive a-hole. He couldn't be serious about the rematch. Nobody could have that inflated of an ego. But he could. Because he had been serious about the rematch. I could see it in his eyes.

The poor jerk wasn't used to losing. He wasn't used to competing with people who could think quickly on their feet. Ever since he had arrived, I'd been buried in the kind of jabs and inconsiderate comments that always came from guys like Isaiah. Was Blake trying to test my resolve? Or was he just sick of dealing with Isaiah himself?

Either way, his games were childish at best and boring at worst. I had plenty of experience dealing with bullies. Maybe too much experience. It wasn't fun having to deal with it all over again even if I did know what to do.

I shouldn't even be engaging in his useless games, I thought as I wandered into the horse barn. I should be pairing him with someone else and punishing him when he acts up.

But that didn't make my heart happy. None of it did. Dealing with him directly was merely a product of my position. I oversaw fieldwork. I knew how to put people together to get the smoothest labor possible. Happy workers made happy produce. That was the best way to do it.

Isaiah made that nearly impossible. He disrupted every pairing he was a part of and often made tiny mistakes that could have been avoided with some simple instruction. Even though I had shown him great gaping vats of patience, he managed to slide under my skin and prod the very structure of my bones.

It had gotten to the point where I shook with rage every time I saw him.

So, a little fun with his games-especially the ones that I knew I could win-were punishment enough. Maybe if I won enough times, he would back the hell off and let me do my job so I could let him do his.

The scent of vanilla floated in the air. That was probably Skye's scent. She always arrived before anyone else to take care of the horses.

A small smile crossed my lips as I went to check on Snow and Violet in the rear stalls.

She's going to be a great farm vet, I thought. One of us must succeed at something. I sure as hell feel like a failure with Isaiah climbing my damn back every other hour.

That was the hard part about bullies. No matter how much I fought back, they managed to erode my confidence, reducing me to a pile of fine ash on the side of the road. One wrong phrase would have me fluttering in the wind. Because that was the nature of dealing with jerks like Isaiah-they always made me run away at some point. There was only so much I could take.

I sighed as I leaned against the stall door. Snow observed me with those soft brown eyes of hers as quietly as a mouse. She stepped forward and bowed so I could rub the space between her eyes. Sweet thing-she knew I was feeling pretty rotten, didn't she? When I closed my eyes, I pictured the cornfield. I imagined a good day at work.

No, not a good day. An excellent day. A successful day with very few hiccups. The kind of hiccups that could be overcome easily with the right kind of teamwork. Maybe if I willed it into existence, it would appear. Manifestation could be powerful in the right hands. Lush green leaves sprouted up in my inner mind, inspiring a smile. Golden yellow corn appeared next. Verdant stems extended to the sky, reaching for the glorious pale blue, tickling the faded stars that hung around in the early minutes after sunrise. Then skin the color of sanded birch wood slid into view. Tattered blue jeans hung low on chiseled hips. Bulky arms flexed with every move as sweat glistened in the crevices marking each distinct muscle group. Bright green eyes seemed to glow like those luminescent fish at the bottom of the ocean. Wide nose. Permanent grimace. Red-orange hair in a messy mullet fluffed by the wind.

Nope.

I did not want to think about a shirtless Isaiah. What would I need that kind of image for? It wasn't like I couldn't just walk out into the field and pluck him right out of a group. No thanks. That didn't need to be part of my manifestation meditation. The scent of patchouli roused my nostrils, sending my eyes rolling back.

My thighs twitched. My slit ached. My heart skipped a beat.

I bit my lower lip.

That simply wasn't fair.

Just because Isaiah was kind of hot-and I mean, only kind of hot-didn't mean I had to drool over him in my mind. His personality was as appealing as a ball of barbed wire and his voice did things to my insides that could have caused one of those deep-ocean volcanic eruptions.

From anger. Only from anger. It was nothing more than unbridled rage billowing like molten hot lava tumbling from an ancient crevice. The moment that lava met the cool water of the ocean, it stiffened and blackened and became rock. All in a matter of seconds. That was what Isaiah did. He hardened me.

And yet...

I shook my head.

Nope, I didn't need to go there. Just because it was mildly arousing to feel his dominance didn't mean I was forming feelings or that I even wanted to bang him.

But maybe I wanted to bang him just a little bit.

More patchouli swarmed my nostrils. It was strong enough to make me think someone had lit an incense cone nearby. As I turned to find the source, I squeaked and nearly climbed backward over the stall door.

Isaiah stood a mere three feet away from me. His eyelids weighed heavy but that didn't detract from the sobering look he gave me. Dusty black boots guarded his feet. Torn blue jeans decorated his hips and sat snugly against his large bulge. A tattered white t-shirt clung to his broad chest, accentuating his pecs.

My jaw dropped.

But I picked it up quickly enough. "You shouldn't sneak up on people."

"Someone needs a pick-me-up." He grinned, as friendly as a predator. "Coffee's in the other barn."

"I don't need that crap."

He squinted, losing some of the smile but not the sharpness of his gaze. "Are we climbing the pole or what? I don't have all day, sugar tits."

Shoot, should I really do this? It was all just some grand display of his inflated ego. I didn't have to participate in his games. Other women on the farm had complained about Isaiah's poor manners and rotten attitude. I had plenty of complaints myself.Read more at FindNovel.net Isaiah snapped his fingers in front of my face.

That soured my mood even more. With a huff and a quick posture check, I marched past him with my fists clenched at my sides.

Might as well get this over with, I thought. The sooner I win, the faster he gets off my damn back and falls in line with everyone else.

Was that really what I wanted? For him to fall in line? It wasn't like me to think like a bully, let alone act like one. Good leaders didn't have to command people-they led by example. My parents had been generous with their lessons, and they'd instilled in me a strong sense good boundaries.

As I wandered through the barn doors, I noticed the sliver of sun peeping through the trees. Birds sprang from the bushes and hopped around to grab leftover feed that was dropped from the chickens and other animals getting fed. A rooster crowed loudly from the other side of the barn.

It was getting lively around here. Soon, workers would start pouring in for their tasks and pairings. Already I could spot a few regulars coming around the cornfield.

I smirked at Isaiah while gesturing to the approaching shifters. "I bet you love having an audience."

"I've been known to be a voyeur."

My face heated up like an eager furnace.

Everything about what he said should have disgusted me. But it had the opposite effect-and I was worried about the fact that it didn't bother me as much as it should have.

I swallowed quietly and crossed my arms over my chest. I nodded to the pole. "Loser goes first."

He growled. "I'll show you a f*****g loser."

He tore his shirt off and kicked off his boots. His socks went next. I blinked away my surprise just as the sun crested over the horizon. Orange light flooded the top of the flagpole where our pack flag lazily fluttered in the breeze.

I pulled out my phone and held it up to show him the timer. Once I hit the start button, Isaiah grabbed the pole and hauled himself up. He scaled the pole in about twenty seconds, snatched the flag, and then dropped to the ground, bending his knees to cushion the impact.

When he stood, he spat on the ground and sauntered toward me with the flag. He dropped it to the ground in front of me.

Nothing could have possibly infuriated me more than that disrespectful gesture.

Without missing a beat, I shoved my phone into my back pocket and approached the pole. I did as he had and kicked off my shoes, shedding my socks next. There weren't any rules, but I wanted this to be as equitable as possible. A few shifters gathered close, watching us while whispering to each other.

My sensitive ears could have easily picked up whatever gossip was forming but I chose to ignore it so I could focus on the pole. I had to beat twenty seconds. That would be a bit difficult with my smaller frame. I was plenty used to lifting heavy things, but I didn't have Isaiah's upper arms and biceps. Those engorged muscles were for more than just show.

I glared at Isaiah as he held up his phone. The moment his thumb contacted the digital timer, I raced up the pole, adding a handstand at the top as a little flair before drifting gracefully back down. I bent my knees to absorb the impact of the landing, doing a backflip away from the pole and landing on my feet squarely in front of the bully himself.

He glanced at the timer with a grimace.

Did he ever have a different expression on his face?

He gritted his teeth. "Twenty seconds to the millisecond." His knuckles turned white as he gripped his phone. "F*****g do it again, bendy."

I glowered at him. "You first, muscle head."

Chuckles drifted from the other side of the pole. Our crowd had grown by a few more shifters, a mixture of ages, genders, and backgrounds. Many of them smiled expectantly as Isaiah went back to the pole. He raced up, mimicked my handstand, flipped, landed in the same handstand, and then dropped to the ground. Dust spewed up from where he landed.

The crowd applauded his showy display of strength.

I rolled my eyes.

"Alright, stand back. Don't hurt yourself," I warned as I marched past him. "You didn't even stick your landing. Let me show you how it's done."

"That's right, Jada," Skye cheered from the back of the growing audience. "Loser cleans the pigpen!"

Cheers of agreement exploded around us. I locked eyes with Isaiah, smiling when he gave me a sharp nod. The terms were set.

Now I just had to kick his ass.

Scaling the pole was nothing at this point. While Isaiah made it look easy, I made it look like it was a quick inhalation. Wolves like me adapted quickly. Even though my muscles ached with the repeated motions and the stick landing, it made my heart gorge itself on pride to hear the louder applause for my performance.

Isaiah bowed his head-but not as a deferment or a recognition of my talent. He appeared more like a feral animal getting ready to attack.

And I had to wonder why the hell that made me want to climb him like a tree.

He gritted his teeth as he marched toward me. "You win this round."

"That took a lot of strength to say, didn't it?" I teased. And boy, did I enjoy teasing him like that. Seeing the crimson frustration sprout on his forehead just deepened my satisfaction. "Maybe you'll learn to be better with your team leaders if you keep saying stuff like that."

"I don't owe you shit."

And then he stalked away with his head held high, trudging through the crowd like he was on his way to get executed. Shifters like him were the reason we had to hide so much these days. They were far too loose with their gifts, too willing to show them off in public for humans to see.

If he kept acting up, I would have to talk to Blake about it. Which I didn't want to do. Mostly because Blake seemed so fond of the guy.

But after what Isaiah had done with our pack flag, it was just bad news to let his behavior go without some kind of repercussion. If he wasn't with us, then he was against us. That was worth discussing with the alpha. Full stop.

***

A few hours went by without much incident. My usual chores kept my hands busy but allowed my mind to wander a little too much for my liking. Isaiah had fed the pigs as agreed by the crowd. That surprised me more than anything. Bullies usually weren't keen on keeping their word. And though Isaiah hadn't technically agreed to the crowd's suggestion, he kept it real.

That was interesting.

I tried not to think too hard about it as I went about fixing up the chicken coop. Our chickens were relatively calm, despite us being mostly wolves. As predators, it was easy to spook our animals. That was why I took such pride in my work. I dressed comfortably, I kept away from addictive things like caffeine so my mind was always clear, and I meditated regularly to keep my anger in check.

My mouth twisted into a disgusted frown. Unlike Isaiah who gets riled up at the slightest incentive.

Praise the ancient gods for letting me have some willpower over some of my thoughts. Because the fantasies were getting out of control. To remember that Isaiah was a bully was to grant myself peace away from the imaginings in my brain that should have belonged to a horny college freshman.

I guess that's the price I pay for going so long between partners, I thought while refreshing the straw in the chicken coop. It's not like the choices around here are great. Alpha hasn't paired me with anyone yet.

I sighed.

It was useless to manifest a mate when there weren't great options in my pack. Besides, my alpha oversaw all that-if I tried to choose one of my own, it would likely get rejected.

I perked up. Or that would speed up the whole process.

Alpha wanted everyone who could be paired to be paired. What if I took fate into my own hands? It would show Blake that I was truly committed to the safety of the pack. My eyes swept the fields around me. Little shadows of shifters stood against the glare of the sun. Somebody out there was right for me.

I just had to wait for a proper sign.

A snort and loud, obnoxious hock came from my left. Spit landed inside the chicken coop, a large glob that glistened with late morning sunlight.

I glared at the spitter.

And let me just say I wasn't surprised that it was Isaiah.

"Can I help you?" I asked sharply while getting back to the straw. "You're interrupting my chores."

"I want another rematch."

I cackled. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because," I stated confidently while turning to face him, "I don't owe you shit."

He stared at me for a few seconds longer than I would have thought he'd waste. As soon as the spell of my response broke, his eyebrows angled, his gaze sharpened, and he shifted his fingers to sharp nails, digging them into the wire of the chicken coop. A few chickens clucked anxiously and skittered away.

I stood my ground. "You can throw a tantrum or you can go do the chores you were assigned."

"They're done."

"Then get out of my fucking face, Isaiah."

He snapped back, blinking rapidly as though I had thrown acid into his face. Most of the time, I would have endorsed ignoring such a huge, pigheaded bully. My parents would have encouraged the same thing. But there were times when bullies had to be given a proper talk, a good spitfire response that made them realize how much they were being dicks.

It didn't always work. As my mother would have reminded me, bullies like to just get a rise sometimes. If that was Isaiah's goal, it had worked.

But the way he looked right now told me that he saw my snap as a loss rather than a gain.

Good. He needed to keep losing.

Even if it meant he got on my damn nerves in the process.

I pointed to the field. "Go see if someone needs your help. I don't want to see you until it's time for your shift to be over."

With that, I turned around and got back to the chickens. The response part of my reaction was over. It was time to ignore him.

I just hoped it would work.