The Alpha's Pretend Mate

Stranger Among Wolves

Ivy hadn’t realized how much she hated being watched until she became the center of everyone’s attention.

The murmurs began the moment she stepped outside Kael’s home. Wolves lingered in doorways and along the paths, their gazes sharp and unwelcoming. Some spoke in hushed tones, their words carried on the cool morning air, while others made no effort to hide their curiosity.

“She’s here already,” one woman whispered, her voice barely muffled.

“From another pack, right?” a man asked. “I didn’t hear which one.”

Ivy’s steps faltered for the briefest moment, her sharp green eyes darting toward the speakers. *Another pack?* That didn’t make sense. She glanced at Kael, who was already a few steps ahead, his stride confident and unbothered by the murmurs.

Kael turned slightly, catching her confused look, but instead of explaining, he placed a hand on the small of her back, guiding her forward. The touch was warm and firm, but it sent an unwelcome jolt through her.

“What are they talking about?” Ivy muttered under her breath.

“You’ll find out soon,” Kael replied, his voice low and unbothered.

“That’s not an answer,” she snapped, glaring at him.

Kael glanced at her briefly, his silver eyes calm. “Stay focused. You’ll need to be ready for the council.”

“Ready for what, exactly?” she asked, her irritation mounting. But Kael didn’t respond, his attention already on the path ahead.

Ivy bit back a retort, swallowing her frustration as the weight of their stares pressed down on her. She couldn’t afford to lose her composure here—not when Liam’s future depended on her staying in Kael’s good graces. But that didn’t mean she had to like it.

---

The council hall was larger than Ivy had expected, its high ceilings and stone walls making her feel small despite her best efforts to stand tall. A long wooden table dominated the center of the room, with six chairs arranged on either side. At the head of the table sat a larger, more ornate chair—Kael’s seat, she realized.

The room was already half full when they entered. The council members—men and women of varying ages—turned to look at her as one. Their expressions ranged from polite curiosity to thinly veiled skepticism, but none of them smiled.

Kael strode confidently toward his seat, his presence commanding immediate attention. He didn’t speak as he moved to his chair at the head of the table, but the tension in the room shifted, a subtle acknowledgment of his authority.

Ivy lingered near the doorway, the weight of their stares pressing against her like a physical force. She didn’t miss the way some of them leaned toward one another, whispering behind their hands.

“That’s her?” one of them murmured.

“She’s from Whitewillow, isn’t she?”

“I heard Whisper Glen.”

*Whitewillow? Whisper Glen?* Ivy’s jaw tightened as she realized what Kael had done. He’d invented an origin for her—one she hadn’t been briefed on. Of course he hadn’t warned her. Why bother when she could just wing it and hope for the best?

Kael extended his hand toward her, the motion so casual it caught her off guard. She hesitated, every instinct screaming at her to leave him hanging, but the faint warning in his gaze stopped her. Begrudgingly, she placed her hand in his, the unexpected warmth of his skin making her pause. He pulled her forward gently but firmly, guiding her to the seat beside his.

“This is Ivy,” Kael said as she sat, his silver eyes sweeping across the council. “We’re courting.”

Ivy blinked, barely able to contain her shock. *Courting?* That sounded even more ridiculous than pretending to be his mate. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from blurting out something sarcastic.

“We’ve been getting to know one another,” Kael continued smoothly, his tone calm and unhurried. “I thought it was time to introduce her to the pack.”

The whispers stopped abruptly, the tension in the room sharpening like a blade. Ivy resisted the urge to shift under their scrutiny, keeping her face carefully neutral. She’d been accused of many things in her life, but *courtable material* had never been one of them.

One of the older council members, a man with graying hair, inclined his head slowly. “Welcome, Ivy. We look forward to getting to know you.”

“Thank you,” Ivy said, her voice polite but firm. She didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on her, assessing her as if she were a puzzle to be solved. *Or a stray dog to be inspected.*

A younger woman, her dark hair pulled into a neat braid, offered a faint smile. “It’s rare for us to host someone from another pack. We hope you’ll find your time here... fulfilling.”

The words were courteous, but the edge in her tone wasn’t lost on Ivy. *Fulfilling? Like I’ve come here for a vacation?* She nodded slightly, keeping her response short. “I’ll do my best.”

The council exchanged glances, their skepticism palpable but carefully hidden behind measured words and neutral expressions. They were playing polite, for now, but Ivy could feel the tension simmering beneath the surface. They didn’t trust her—and why would they? She didn’t belong here, and they all knew it.

Kael leaned back in his chair, his silver eyes steady as he surveyed the room. “I trust Ivy,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “And I expect the rest of you to extend her the same courtesy.”

There was a pause, the silence heavy with unspoken doubts, but no one argued. A few council members murmured their agreement, their voices low and cautious.

---

By the time the meeting ended, Ivy’s head was pounding. The stares, the whispers, the endless scrutiny—it was exhausting. The crowd outside had grown by the time she and Kael stepped out, their eyes following her every move.

“That went well,” she muttered under her breath, her tone dry.

Kael glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “It could have been worse.”

“High praise,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You really know how to inspire confidence.”

Without warning, Kael’s hand slid to the small of her back again, guiding her toward the path that led home. Ivy stiffened, her breath hitching at the unexpected contact.

“You’re doing fine,” Kael said quietly, his voice low enough that only she could hear. “Better than most would in your place.”

“Next time,” Ivy said, her tone sharp but hushed, “maybe tell me the part where I’m from some imaginary pack before I walk into a room full of wolves.”

Kael’s lips curved into the faintest smirk. “Would it have made a difference?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “It would’ve saved me from looking like an i***t if someone asked me a question I couldn’t answer.”

“No one asked,” Kael pointed out, his tone maddeningly calm. “You handled it.”

Ivy glared at him, the heat of her irritation rising with every step. *Handled it.* Sure. She’d handled it by staying silent and letting him weave a story she didn’t know how to follow. She hated the way he made it seem so effortless, as if the entire arrangement were a game only he understood.

As they reached his home, Ivy couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of Kael’s lies—and that if she wasn’t careful, she’d drown in them.