Beaufort Creek Shifters (10 book series)
The Alpha’s Forced Mate Chapter 4

Veronica

A maid guided me down a marble hallway with an arching gold ceiling. Everything was touched by luxury, from the shimmering gold life-size statues to the white wallpaper decorated with ivy. The end of the hallway was marked by a gaping window that opened onto "Jesus," I whispered. "I could get lost in here."

a stone balcony.

The maid chuckled lightly. "There's a map in your room so you don't."

"Are you serious?"

The maid blushed. "Yes, ma'am. Alpha doesn't want any participants to get lost."

"I bet he wants them to leave, though."

The red in her cheeks deepened.

I squinted with a playful grin. The servants hear everything. I bet they're teeming with all sorts of juicy gossip.

"Would you happen to know where he likes to hang out?" I asked as she paused in front of a white door. The blush in her cheeks couldn't possibly have gotten any redder. "If you don't, I understand. I just want to get ahead of the game."

She bowed her head as she opened the door. "I'm afraid I can't say, ma'am."

"Of course. Alpha's orders?"

"Yes, Alpha's orders. You understand, I'm sure. It has to be a fair trial."

Whatever I wanted to say fell away the moment I walked into the room.

No, it wasn't a room. It was a suite. On the left was a working fireplace surrounded by couches and a small end table. Two rooms broke off from the main-one door led into a massive bedroom and another to a room that seemed like a cave made of white marble. I could only assume it was the bathroom.

I dropped my duffle bag to the ground.

"Jesus," I whispered.

The maid scooped the bag from the ground and gestured to the bedroom. "Would you like me to put your things way?"

I grabbed the bag with a nervous chuckle. "No!" I cleared my throat and nodded toward the door. "It's been a long trip. I want to shower."

"Of course, ma'am. My name is Silvia. Let me know if you need anything by pushing the intercom button near the door." "Intercom button? You have to be..."

Silvia didn't stick around to hear the creative string of expletives that finished my sentence. Like a good housemaid, she disappeared as soon as she was told she wasn't wanted. Was she listening at the door? How much would she be watching me?

I had to assume that Blake had this place on lockdown. Anyone coming in would be watched by his security team. The buff guy with chocolate eyes and shoulders as wide as a damn semi truck didn't smell like a wolf-he smelled like a bear. Which meant he was probably head of security.

Bears are good at sniffing out sabotage, I thought as I wandered into the bedroom. Which means need to watch out for that guy.

My bag didn't house anything suspicious. I just didn't want that maid going through my things. All the weapons I would need would be brought later by Melvin. Our plan to take down the alpha had to be strategic. Any suspicion would have the mate trial shut down. Which meant I needed to participate. Enthusiastically.

I grumbled angrily while snatching clothes from my bag and carrying them toward a lavish dresser. As I opened the first drawer, my t-shirts and jeans tumbled from my hands.

It was already full of clothes. And the next drawer. And the next. I flung open the French doors guarding the closet, half the racks were lined with dresses-for just about every occasion. I thumbed through the fabric, feeling the fine silk and the soft cotton, the luxurious taffeta and the creamy velvet. Every tag showed my correct dress size as it corresponded to the designer.

My heart thudded in my chest. There was no way this guy had chosen to dress up his potential mates on his own. I'd overheard the conversation he had with his pushy mother. This was all her idea. He wanted nothing to do with anything resembling a mate. One of the more racy dresses caught my eye. As I ran my fingers along the satin fabric, a mischievous smirk appeared on my lips.

If he wants to be free of this mate trial, I thought, I'll make sure he gets what he wants.

Within twenty minutes, all my clothes were unpacked. It was weird seeing my rinky-dink cotton shirts sitting next to the finer things in life. This room that was supposed to be my bedroom was the size of my entire apartment. Considering my roots, this was nuts. How did a guy have this much money?

An eye roll later, I was back in the hallway, quietly shutting my door as I studied the marble floors, rustic lamps, and ivy wallpaper. Luxury filled every corner. A girl like me could get used to this-but it was best not to think about such things. My apartment was fine. My pack was relying on me. My honor was on the line.

Other riches awaited me in my future.

Doors lined the hallway that likely led to other suites, but I got the impression that I had the entire second-floor west wing to myself. One of the more impressive doors that caught my attention hosted a massive design of a tree laid into the cherry wood. When I turned the handle, it clicked loudly and the door swung open slowly.

Lush red carpet covered every square inch of the floor. A large open space revealed several cushioned chairs of various colors situated near grand bookshelves. Gaping windows allowed sunlight into the arched room, illuminating paintings, striped wallpaper of dark crimson and rich yellow, and every book known to earthlings.

Heck, the entire universe could have fit into this ridiculously huge library. I wouldn't be surprised if I found the Declaration of Independence hidden among the shelves.

Blood racing, I stepped tentatively into the room. It felt almost forbidden, as though it was a secret utopia not meant for me to witness. My hand rose to my chest, feeling the resonating thump of my heart. The door swung shut behind me with a resolute click. And then, it was quiet.

So quiet.

Like I was the only shifter left in the world.

I took a shaky breath. And then another. One step after another carried me deeper into the heavenly space. The air thickened with the scent of paper and lovingly bound books. My eyebrows rose steadily as I realized it was organized like any library would be-which meant I could replace just about anything.

My eyes raced along the spines of the books. Does he read? What does he read? He doesn't look like a guy who reads. He looks like a guy who rides motorcycles and drinks whiskey.

I drifted deeper into the abyss with a content smile on my lips. I plucked several books from the shelves, fantasy and science fiction in particular, to see how worn the pages appeared. Some of them hosted dog-eared pages. As annoyed as it made me feel, excitement laced through my system.

Someone in this house was an avid reader. Was it Blake?

A collection of romance novels caught my attention. Those pages were far looser than the others. Victory trickled through my chest.

"You like romance," I whispered. "I'm shocked."

A throat cleared behind me. I jumped out of my skin and dropped three books to the ground, the hardcovers slamming against my toes. It took all my strength not to release the shriek lodged in my throat as I froze in place.

"Love stories are addictive," said that familiar husky voice. "I like happy endings too."

My throat dried up. My eyelids fluttered. My shoulders shot up to my ears as my heart rate doubled. Fight, flight, or freeze-which one would I choose today?

Blake stepped into view. "At ease, soldier. It's okay for you to be in here."

Relief relaxed my shoulders. "Okay."

"What did you pick?"

"Oh, it's nothing. I was just-"

But he was already kneeling to collect the books on the ground. Blush crept into my cheeks as he inspected them carefully. It was then I realized this was the first time I had gotten a truly good look at the guy.

Black hair as dark as midnight hung to his chin. Icy blue eyes swept with curious passion over the spines of the books while he scratched at the day-old stubble on his cheek. Apricot skin caramelized by the sun wrapped around his stocky figure. Torn blue jeans, black biker boots, and a simple but worn t-shirt were all he was wearing.

When I greeted him, he had been in a button-down shirt.

I snorted. "Did your mother make you do that?"

He peered up at me with a sharp glance.

And oh boy, did that glance do things to me. Forbidden things. Terrifying things.

Alarmingly enticing things.

I blinked away my embarrassment. "The reading-I mean, the romance book stuff. She seems like the knight in shining armor type of gal."

He slapped one of the books shut, tucked the other two under his arm, and stood up. "She thinks reading is a waste of time."

I allowed my genuine shock to show in my features. "You're serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"Well, you don't look like you're having a good time. That's for sure."

Surprise slithered into his expression. The glacier blue of his pupils dulled to a stormy gray as he cast his eyes downward. "Is it that obvious?"

"I haven't been here long, but yes. It's obvious." I crossed my arms over my chest to check the harness under my shirt. A dagger sat in the holster, hard metal spelled to be undetectable, even to the most trained of security guards. While fingering the handle, I whispered, "Your mother seems sort of..."

"Pushy?"

"Militant."

His features eased from tense to entertained. "Assertive."

"Ambitious."

"Audacious."

I grinned. "Brash."

He squinted while handing over the books. "So, you're an avid reader?"

"Yeah, I like the classics-but I'm also into modern fantasy."

"Hobbits and such?"

I nodded. "It's silly, but yes." I rubbed my arm. "I mean, sometimes, it's just nice to get lost in a long story about smaller creatures being brilliant, you know?"

He stepped toward me. "I like that."

My eyes wandered south. The distance between us was closing quickly.

"You're curious," he added in a low voice. "You like knowing things, don't you?"

The way my lips quivered betrayed whatever confidence I had left. This guy towered over me. It hadn't been apparent a week ago, but his stature was unmistakable. Stocky, tall, and could very likely take out five shifters on his own without even breaking a sweat. All that biking and heavy lifting probably tripled his strength.

It took every ounce of my strength not to peek at the zipper of his jeans.

A knot formed in my throat as his musky scent swirled under my nostrils. Every molecule in my body screamed as a heady desire surfaced, lulled to the forefront of my mind by that patchouli and pine. He smelled earthy, rich, and decadent.

I met his gaze.

But those things hardly fit his personality.

A softness lurked under that grim facade. Grief masked his intentions, yet something much gentler pushed him into action.

It wasn't until his fingertips met my cheek that I realized it might be me.

I jumped back.

Blake shoved his hand behind his back. "Sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

"No, it's fine. I just..." Just what? Just wanted him to keep going?

I trembled even though it wasn't cold in the library. The dagger was still under my arm, tucked safely in its holster. If I took a shot now and missed, then I would ruin any chance to fulfill my destiny later.

But the ease with which he had dropped his guard around me would certainly come in handy.

If it didn't distract me first.

He bowed his head. "I hope you're comfortable in the west wing."

"How did you-?" Realization smacked me in the face. "Right, you probably know everything about me."

"Not everything, but just about."

I arched one eyebrow. "Alright, mister. If you know just about everything, then what's my favorite book of all time?"

Just as he parted his lips to retort, the library door clicked.

"There you are!" a woman called out.

I turned around to see Blake's mother walking expectantly toward us. Her eyes twinkled with the kind of anticipation most people feel while watching a Hallmark film.

Cue the eyes resisting the urge to roll. My stomach flipped instead.

She paused in front of me. "Veronica Gilbert, I don't believe we've formally met each other. I'm Shelly Hayden."

I shook her hand firmly. "A pleasure, ma'am. Thank you for having me here."

"None of the other girls have such a fine grip," she said with a nervous chuckle as she shook the tension of our greeting from her hand. "You're robust."

"I train."

She nodded, the spark intensifying in her eyes. "Well, the first trial is due to commence shortly. Would you join us in the gardens?"

"Of course, Ms. Hayden."

"Please, call me Shelly. I abhor titles."

Blake snorted. Shelly shot her son a glare of warning. I held my breath so hard that my lungs hurt.

These two would provide plenty of amusement until I needed to take Blake's life.

After an awkward beat of silence, Shelly beamed at me and gestured to the door. "Whenever you're ready." And then she floated from the room with all the arrogance of an aristocrat.

"She seems rather..." I dug through my words carefully. "Pugnacious."

"That's a mighty big word for such a small mouth."

The heat in his words urged me to turn around. Every inch of me flared with desire all over again, luscious lava traveling in sweeping waves through my core. I twitched with annoyance. No one was supposed to make me feel this way, especially not the guy I was tasked with assassinating.

That would just make the kill all the sweeter, wouldn't it?

"I'll be outside," I told him, "waiting for you to join us."

He grinned. "Good luck, Veronica. You might need it."

I blanched and then broke into a guttural cackle. The laughter carried me to the door, into the hallway, and toward the staircase. By the time I made it to the gardens, I was out of breath.

He had no idea who I was. And he would never see it coming.