Chapter 8

**** Alyssa ****

“Hey, sleepyhead, you have to give me your phone number. If you aren’t connected to the pack mind-link, how am I supposed to talk to you?” Mistress Merideth pouts and says with a simpering whiny voice. Honestly, what does my husband see in her? Unconsciously, I glance across the hall toward the cheating dickwad’s room and… urgh…think of the devil, and there he is: shirtless and looking quite delectable, staring at me from where he is, leaning on his doorway while watching his girlfriend harassing me first thing in the morning. What an asshole. 

“I don’t have a phone,” I mutter. I did have a phone. I shoot my nominal husband a scowl; I mean, seriously, what a prick!

I have barely spoken to another person since I got here, and I miss my friends; I’m sure they are worried about me despite the letters I wrote and my dickwad husband probably didn’t post. Goddess, what do they even think happened to me? They probably think I’m too happy touring packs to bother communicating with them. 

“Well, I’ve decided my baby is going to take me shopping today, and I thought it would be a nice way to show you around.”

Yes, because watching you arm-in-arm with my husband while he plays sugar daddy sounds like such a fun way to spend my Saturday. 

“Three is a crowd, Merideth. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your time together,” I shoot the asshole another scowl. I mean, really? Then I pull my blanket over my head and pretend to be tired. Only I know there’s no going back to sleep now.

“Oh, I’m inviting the girls too. It’ll be you, me, Sandy, Trudy, and the Alpha, and anyone he wants to bring, of course,” Mistress Merideth continues as she tugs the blanket off my face. “Oh, come on,” she coos. “It’ll do you some good to get out of this room.”

I hope he brings his other girlfriends. That would teach you a lesson. 

Wow, that mean thought just popped up out of nowhere. I have never been a mean person. I’ve always sought to find the best in everyone and tried to see every situation from every angle and perspective, but this jerk brings out the worst in me. 

None of this is her fault. As far as Merideth knows, Alpha Enzi is the most eligible bachelor for miles. He’s young, handsome, rich, and — as far as everyone knows — single. 

It’s him that is in the wrong; he is doing this deliberately to hurt me. My eyes flick to my door again but the dickwad has thankfully disappeared. 

“Ok, Merideth. Just let me get dressed, ok? I’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast.”

I was looking forward to sleep in, and lounging late to breakfast in my pajamas even. Instead, my husband’s girlfriend wakes me up all giggly with excitement to rub her rich boyfriend, my husband, in all of her friends’ faces. Today is going to suck salty balls.

But I don’t know anyone in this pack, and I don’t have any friends. I also don’t have a good excuse not to go, and as much as I hate to admit it, Merideth is the closest thing to a friend I’ve made here — how fucked up is that!? Plus, she is right about getting out of my bedroom doing me some good.

When I exit my bathroom after a quick shower, I’m confronted with a nauseating case of déjà vu. There, resting on my bed is my so-called husband. I groan and clutch my towel a little tighter. Lesson learned: I don’t even have privacy in my own bedroom here. He just has to rub in that he could do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. I’ll have to get in the habit of taking my clothes to the bathroom with me from now on.

“What now?” I say. 

“Why do you always have to give me such attitude?” he snaps back.

I roll my eyes. Was he really this stupid? I stalk to my walk-in and slam the door firmly behind me, making sure to jam a flip flop under the door to slow him down in case he follows me like last time. It’s a decent size closet but it is still a tight space when you’re flailing around getting dressed as quickly as you can with one foot bracing the door the whole time for double protection to prevent unwanted intrusions. 

I was hopeful that he’ll be gone when I leave my walk-in but nope, that was wishful thinking.

“I want you to be happy here,” he says when I exit the closet. 

Well, that’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve heard in a while. Where did that even come from? Maybe he feels a bit guilty for the way he’s treating me after all. But the next words out of his mouth prove that's not true.

“I’m giving you a credit card. The pin is 1234 until you choose a new one. Don’t tell anyone it’s from me.”

“How much is on it?” His eyes crinkle briefly at my question, and I wonder what he’s thinking. I roll my eyes again.

“Oh, for Goddess’ sake! I don’t want your money. You can save that for spoiling your girlfriends. I want my phone and my laptop, are you going to give them back or do I have enough money on this thing to buy replacements of the items you stole from me?”

“Why do you want your phone and a laptop?”

“They are mine. I want them back. You stole them. I’m bored. I’m lonely. I need to talk to my friends. I need to take an online class or something,” I mutter irritably and in a rush. I shouldn’t have to justify myself to him.

“I can’t have you communicating with people outside of the pack and sharing my secrets,” he says sternly.

“What secrets? Your girlfriend’s name? You don’t tell me anything. I don’t know any secrets,” I snip. “Wait, does that mean you didn’t send the letters I wrote?” 

He shakes his head, no.

“They were so bland with zero details in them! I was careful about that,”

“I’ll give you your phone and your laptop back when I think you are trustworthy, but you can’t share information about my pack, or me personally, with anyone. When I do return them, your laptop and phone will be periodically searched whenever I feel like it, understood?”

I flipping hate him.

“Fine,” I agree. I already expected that from him. I wasn’t a hacker by any means, but I had decent enough computer skills, meaning I should be able to erase and search history or communications I didn’t want him to know about if I had to. Not that I had anything I could share with anyone anyway, I honestly didn’t know anything about this damn pack. 

“I just want to feel less trapped,” I mumble.

~♥~♥~♥~

Two hours later, the Alpha and Mistress Merideth are leading a small convoy. My husband and Merideth are in the Alpha’s fancy topless convertible. I don't know much about cars, but it’s red and shiny, and it has a leaping cat on the front, a lion or a jaguar. It makes me think of Rob back home. He was a car guy.

Enzi had wanted to ride in the pack SUV with me and Darryl, his top warrior, but Mistress Merideth begged for him to take her in the convertible. I can’t blame her, I kind of wanted to go in it too, but only if they weren't in it. When he caved to her pleading she literally giggled and jumped up and down on the spot like a kid on their birthday who’s just been given the biggest present of their life. 

As I’m about to climb in the black SUV, with Darryl, Sandy, Trudy, and Jamie, the Alpha insists at the last second that I go with Darryl alone, and the others go in a different car. Goddess, my dickwad husband is weird. One minute he thinks I’m flirting and trying to pick up guys at training, and the next he’s ordering me to ride alone with one of his men. He doesn’t look happy about it, though. I guess the other option was to ride with the girls which would give me an opportunity to ask questions. Maybe that’s it. What doesn’t he want me to know? Or maybe he’d been shopping with Merrideth before and knows how much space she needs for her purchases.

The shopping center we’re heading for is about an hour away. I don’t initiate conversation, and neither does Darryl so the first thirty minutes are painfully silent.

“How long have you been the Delta here?” I ask, unable to stand the quiet car and my own screaming thoughts any longer.

“Three years,” he replies succinctly.

“How old are you?” I ask.

“24,” he says.

I’m silent for a moment, I want to ask so many questions, and he seems to be answering willingly, but without elaborating on anything.

“You’re not much of a conversationalist are you?” I say, a little defeated.

“He said to answer your questions if you had any and to be polite but not to engage in conversation with you,” Darryl answers.

No need to guess who the “he” is. So not only was he controlling all my communication with the outside world but he was actively telling his pack members not to welcome me or befriend me, except for his mistress of course. I can’t live like this.

“Why does he hate me so much?” I mutter more to myself. I'm actually horrified when I realize I said that out loud. But really, I’ve done nothing to him, yet he goes out of his way to make me miserable. I deserve an answer.

“He definitely doesn’t hate you,” Darryl replies. I didn’t think he’d answer that question. I’m tempted to grill Darryl for info on him, but then he’ll just report it back to the Alpha and he might actually think I care about him; he’ll assume his plan to crush my spirits is working. It is, but I really don’t want him to know that. I just don’t understand how someone can be such an asshole. So I go with another tactic, I decide to ask Darryl as much about the pack as I can.

“How big is the pack?” I ask.

“Big.”

Thanks, that’s super-specific.

“Where exactly are we?” I try as I haven’t recognized landmarks yet. I could be in any city. 

“You don’t need to know.”

Like hell, I don’t!

I give up and decide to work on my observation skills harder for the future. I don't know what these people are hiding from me, but none of this adds up. 

The shopping mall turns out to be the lower two floors of a fancy hotel in the city that I don’t recognize. I’ve never been here before, and none of the landmarks are standing out to me. I was hoping I’d recognized something. Why does every big city have to look the same?

As we shop, I try to keep a fake smile on my face and act like I’m having fun, even though I don't really like shopping just because, and I don't need anything. Except an escape route. I sure as hell am not enjoying watching my husband play sugar daddy. 

Merideth, however, is in her element, she links arms with her Alpha Enzi and drags him from shop to shop, practically skipping by his side. Her giggling is reminiscent of nails on a chalkboard. Every now and then, I catch him, glaring at me, making sure I am trailing along behind them, in what he deems to be my rightful place, I suppose. The happier they are, the more annoyed I am. I hate that I’ve become such a negative person thanks to him. 

With a loud squeal, Mistress Merideth drags her boyfriend to one of those smelly lotion stores. Dutifully, we all trail along behind, she sprays various scents on herself and my husband. I hate to admit it but he actually smelled pretty good with whatever his normal cologne is. With three giggling girls spraying and squirting everything in here on top of each other and the other customers, the overload of clashing scents in this store is just too much. I guess I do have wolf senses after all. 

I slip out of the store and wait by the front doors. Suddenly, a wicked thought occurs to me: I'm alone, why should I stay here? My mind races back to the large department store we were in not so long ago. They had prepaid phones; I wouldn’t even need to stand around for two hours while they set up an account for me and all that nonsense. I could just grab and go. I could call a friend. I could run.

With the clashing perfumes stuffing up their noses, they’d have trouble sniffing me out.  

I only take two steps before Darryl snags my upper arm.

“Where are you off, little wolf?”

“That bench,” I lie easily and pull my arm free. I walk to the bench and take a seat, scowling. Darryl follows and sits beside me. 

“Are you ok?” I’m so surprised that he asked that I answer immediately.

“It was all just too much…in there... you know?” I say. It wasn’t just the smells that bothered me either. It was him and her, her giggling and constantly pawing at him. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says. For a second, it feels like he does know. I’m tempted to question him but I’m afraid he’ll revert to those cold, one-worded responses.

Darryl and I sit in silence for a few minutes until he suddenly says something weird.

“He’s not a bad guy.”

I frown at that, aware that he must mean his Alpha, but why would he care about what I think. 

“Maybe he’s a good Alpha,” I concede. He seems to really care for his people, not that I’ve seen much yet from my bedroom. 

“He is,” says Darryl. This is a weird conversation, and I can’t figure out why we are having it. What is the point? Is he worried because I openly dislike his Alpha? Alphas are typically super-hyper about respect, and Darryl is probably worried about the consequences for my less-than-stellar attitude toward his Alpha. Or maybe…has that dickwad actually told someone I’m his wife? I almost laugh out loud at that ridiculous thought — that seems so unlikely. 

My thought process is broken when the sound of high-pitched laughter meets my ears, and I know they are done with that store. 

“See how he spoils me!?” giggles Merideth running toward me holding up two large shopping bags of whatever stinky stuff she chose.

“I do see that,” I say tonelessly, forcing a smile at Merideth who’s so happy she’s oblivious to the stink eye I shoot my husband.

“I’m hungry, baby. Where should we eat?” Merideth trills.

“Wherever you want,” he replies.

“How about that Italian place upstairs? The fancy one?” she bounces on the balls off her feet, leaning into him. “I’ve always wanted to eat there.”

“Whatever you want, babe,” he says. 

Oh, Goddess, I might puke. Merideth hands Darryl her shopping bags to carry and links arms with me, pulling me in the direction of the fancy Italian restaurant, I assume. 

“Do you like Italian?” she asks

“Doesn’t everyone?” I say, with my fake smile firmly in place. 

Soon, we’re all seated at a large round table in a lovely looking restaurant on the top floor of the mall. It is so gorgeous here it doesn’t even feel like a mall. I’ve never been to Italy but I imagine that’s what this is styled on. The walls are white, and lit with amber glowing wall sconces. On the one wall, there were beautiful and large glass-arched windows with amazing city views, and some vine growing all over the place that I am pretty sure is real. Over by what I assume is the kitchen, there’s a huge wall of planters containing herbs, all well lit with bluish-toned growing lights. As we take our seats, I watch as someone in a chef uniform comes out with scissors and a small basket to clip some fresh herbs. That’s so cool. 

This would be the perfect place for a romantic dinner. But alas, that is not my fate. I’m here with a bunch of deluded teens, disinterested warriors, and an arrogant Alpha. Yay me.

After lunch, which was amazing, Merideth drags us to more stores, including an expensive and fancy lingerie store. I didn’t think this day could get more uncomfortable but here I am, watching my husband’s mistress pick sexy underwear for him. 

“You should try something on,” Jamie says, nudging me gently.

“I have no one to wear nice underwear for,”

“You don’t need to. Just pick something that makes you feel good, something that makes you feel hot. You deserve it.”

I snort.

I hear a low growl behind me, and I know it came from that hypocrite husband of mine, so I don’t bother acknowledging it. Jamie does though. He instantly takes a step back with an apologetic smile. Great, so the only friend I’m allowed really is his mistress. 

I decide to take Jamie’s advice anyway. Focusing on finding something for me will help prevent me from worrying about them. Besides, that husband of mine owes me a swimsuit. I’m going to pick the skimpiest one they have.

It’s already late afternoon when Mistress Merideth decides she’s done for the day. As a result, we get back to the pack late. While unloading the car, Mistress Merideth announces that we all need to have dinner together to cap off the perfect day.

“I’m still full from lunch. I’ll see you all later, thanks for inviting me today, Merideth. It was nice to get out of the pack house,” I say, and before she can argue, I’m already double-timing it to my room with Jamie hot on my heels of course. 

****

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