Mated by Marriage

Chapter 12

I leave the steam house roughly an hour before dinner is set to start. When I make it back to my room, I find myself agonizing over what to wear. I haven't seen my mom in a few days, and I've looked better. The stress on my wolf shows in the dark bags under my eyes, and the prominence of my collar bones. Honestly, I've also missed most of my meals the last few days. I sigh to myself, plucking a brown cashmere sweater set from a hanger. I use what little energy I have to do some natural-looking makeup, toss my hair into a purposely messy bun, and head downstairs. To my surprise, reaching the dining hall reveals only Dallas has arrived before me. He smiles warmly, waving me toward him.

"Melissa, I'm so glad to see you're able to make it to dinner. Chase and your mother should be here any minute. You know how your mother is, always working until that last minute."

He chuckles, and I find myself smiling at the drastic difference between this Dallas, and the one I had seen at the assembly earlier. I find my seat near the head of the table, snatching a few rolls from the basket placed in front of me.

"I imagine you're starved. I heard you fainted during your training the other day. Though, the doctor assures me you made a quick recovery and should be full strength any day now. This is true, yes?"

Dallas casually butters a roll, shooting a pointed glance in my direction. My pulse quickens under his gaze, the warning signs of panic slowly creeping into my senses. I shove it down, willing my wolf to the surface. I can tell, if I don't show him something, he's bound to pry into it more. It's now or never. I squeeze my hands tightly under the table, silently pleading with my wolf. Suddenly, I feel it, a soft warming behind my eyes, telling me they're beginning to glow. I immediately flick my gaze up from my plate, grinning mischievously.

"Oh, come on now, Dallas. A little heat stroke won't keep me down, you should know that. I'm bred iron strong."

Dallas chuckles heartily, nearly choking on his bread.

"Okay, okay. Easy there, killer, no fang-bearing at the dinner table. I'll take your word for it. You sure are spirited. I was wrong before; you're even more fiery than your mother. I'd like to think you inherit some of that from your father. Frederick Cartwright was one strong bastard, never a dull moment around him."

I pause, tilting my head pensively.

"Did you know my dad well? He never talked about his relationships with the neighboring alphas; of course, I assumed there was some sort of communication between the packs."

Dallas hums thoughtfully.

"I can't say I knew him well, but I did know him. He was very politically active, more so in his youth. He was the one who rallied all the packs together to start the annual gala; he was also the first among us to denounce the old barbaric rebinding practices. He inspired me in many ways; please know that he was quite an impressive man."

I chew quietly, thinking about the dad I knew. He was kind and gentle, and obsessive about me and my mom's safety. I wonder now if that obsession was a result of how politically active he was. It's no surprise he didn't want to share stories about work at home. He was likely sparing us from knowing anything an enemy would want to know. I can feel Dallas peering at me over his bread, but he doesn't press the subject. I'm grateful for the silence. A moment later, my mom strolls into the room, followed by Chase not far behind.

"Hi, honey."

My mom's voice is cheerful and melodic as she plants a small kiss on Dallas' cheek. She rounds on me immediately after, scurrying to my side. She grabs my face between her hands, tilting me in every direction, examining me with wide eyes.

"You're okay, right? You're not hurt? I heard what happened in training; I knew it was too much for you. I tried to tell them you haven't done combat training in years!"

Her voice peaks to nearly a squeak as she continues to examine me. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Chase slide into his seat, cautiously eyeing the scene my Mom is in the middle of making.

"Mom, I'm fine, seriously. Don't act like I've never been hurt in training before. It was just a little heat stroke."

I shake her hands from my face, barely disguising the scowl on my face.

"Melissa, don't be so stubborn. You never cared for combat training, and I don't want you getting hurt! Wouldn't you rather take a position in strategy? You’ve always preferred that. It would be...safer, if you choose a different path...one that doesn't take such a toll on you."

She's right, obviously. She might not know about my wolf, but she knows me well enough to know I've never had any interest in becoming an alpha. When I was little, my dad refused to teach me combat skills beyond what I would need for self-defense. He said when the time came, I would know how to do it instinctively. He had said that for now, all I needed to know was how to suppress my wolf and hand-to-hand combat. I resented him for it, nearly hated him for a year or two. But he was a skilled and terrifying fighter, who caused heads to bow in recognition everywhere he went. Ultimately, I wasn't sure I wanted that. So I relented and let it go. Now, though, I have a chance to hone the skills he never got to teach me, and in a way, it makes me feel closer to him. Plus, I'm relying on Tia's training to help me control my wolf, so I can't give up now.

"I never had any interest in combat because Dad wouldn't teach it to me. It's different now. He’s not here to protect us, and I have people willing to train me. I won't walk away from that."

I spit the words out hastily. I don't want to fight in front of Chase and Dallas, but I'm not willing to back down either.

"Melissa, that's ridiculous. Why would you need to be the one who protects us? I-"

Dallas sets a tall mug on the table with a defiant thump.

"Allison, that's enough. Listen to yourself."

His tone is stern and chastising, though it has no hint of alpha command in it. My mom turns to look at him, wide-eyed as he continues to speak.

"Melissa is the sole remaining heir to a high alpha lineage. Do you understand the pressure that’s placed on her? Can you imagine the weight of that, Allison? If she has chosen to follow that path, to succeed her father, and in the end, even me— you and I and Chase— will not stand in her way."

A hush falls over the table as Mom makes her way to her seat. There's a heat in my cheeks, the familiar feeling of embarrassment I was so used to before coming here. Dallas made it seem like what I'm doing is so noble and worthy, but truthfully I'm just selfish. I'm doing it because I miss my dad, and largely because I don't want to be exiled from the pack as a security risk. Rogue wolves are uncommon in these parts, and I hate to imagine what it would be like for me out there. I try to clear my mind and focus on the dinner that's suddenly rolling out on multiple trays. I gorge myself, ravenous from the last few days of physical exhaustion.

Between bites, conversation has resumed regularly. My mom says something about a childhood friend of mine, Caleb, who called earlier today, but I don't hear all the details, and I don't ask for them. I'm too busy flagging down the staff for another portion of the beef Wellington. When dinner finally ends, I feel the most satisfied and energized I have in days. As I stretch and saunter out of the dining hall, my pocket buzzes. I squint at the bright screen.

Tia texted me:

hiiiii, we're going to The Den, and you're coming. Dress code: slutty 😉