CHAPTER 7 #2
“Thank you, Father,” Michael answered smoothly. If he was annoyed by his dad’s rudeness, I didn’t feel it. “May I introduce Layla. Layla, this is my father, Derrick.”
Derrick didn’t offer to shake my hand. He made no effort to welcome me, either. His wife’s hostility must be infectious.
Say something, I told myself. Bridge this gap. Be the bigger wolf and offer to shake his hand. But I couldn’t. By being rude to me, he was also showing disrespect to my mate, and while the former was no skin off my back, the latter made me want to gouge his fricking eyes out.
A dark-haired, heavily pregnant woman pushed her way in front of Derrick, breaking the awkward silence. She was closer to Michael’s age than my own, pretty, sharing some of Michael’s features, only softened by femininity. She extended her hand toward me. “Layla, hi. I’m Amy, Michael’s sister.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said, taking it. Her grip was warm and firm, and the smile on her face seemed genuine, which was a relief.
She released me and shot an annoyed glance at her retreating father, who hadn’t even bothered to excuse himself.
“Well, he’s in fine form.” She turned back to us and looked down at her distended abdomen.
“Really wish this kid would hurry up and get out of me so I can go back to drinking my way through these family dinners.”
She hadn’t lowered her voice, and across the room, Lizzy snorted.
I did my best to tamp down my own amusement.
“Where are the other children?” Michael asked.
“With their nannies,” Amy answered. She turned her back on the rest of the room so she could roll her eyes in relative safety. “Mother insisted it be only adults tonight.” Her scent spiked, turning prickly, telling me she was pissed at her mom for some reason.
Wariness crept over the bond, Michael responding to this small show of family drama. My arm was still slung through his, and I rubbed my thumb over the fabric of his jacket sleeve a few times, more out of commiseration than to soothe him. Still, the motion calmed us both.
Amy’s gaze dropped to where we were joined, and she smiled to see it.
The smarmy, handsome man with a disdainful expression joined us then. “Thomas,” he said, sounding insufferably bored.
“My husband,” Amy explained.
I looked between them. Their hearts didn’t beat as one. Their scents contrasted. Definitely not bonded. Married for political or financial reasons, then? Or true love?
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
Thomas raised his glass to me and then sauntered away. Amy didn’t watch him go. Must be a political alliance. Either that or whatever love they’d shared had soured long ago. Or they were just really good at hiding it for some reason.
I met two more of Michael’s brothers after that—Matthew, who was in his first year of college, and Winslow, who fell somewhere in between Amy and Nathaniel.
Winslow’s wife, Kristin, was a short blond woman with an eerie resemblance to their matriarch.
I really hoped it was because she was trying to emulate her and not because the Kolbecks formed alliances like old school kings and queens and she was a cousin or something.
A servant came in to announce dinner shortly after the introductions were over, and we moved toward the chairs.
“Not there, Derrick, over on the other side of our guest of honor,” Michael’s mother said.
Her husband had been halfway to sitting and arched a brow at her—must be where Michael got it from—before he straightened and came to sit beside me.
I thought nothing of it, at first, but then she made similar commands on several more occasions, and by the time everyone was in their seat, I sat in the corner with my back to the windows, the largest of the males in her family spread out around me like my own personal harem.
Okay then.
Michael drummed his fingers on the table as though impatient, while deep beneath the surface I felt him doing his best to quash his unease.
He seemed like he was succeeding, but then I started to worry because he was worried, and our mirroring emotions circled around each other in my mind until he lifted his arm from the table and draped it across the back of my chair.
How he made it look so casual was beyond me.
His expression was one of supreme nonchalance.
His bicep brushed past my shoulder blades on the way down, like an invitation.
As naturally as I could, I leaned back into him, and the contact served to settle us down.
I made a mental note. Touching skin to skin: bad. Touching with layers between us: good.
The room was uncomfortably quiet while the first course was served. Michael’s father gave me a sharp look when I thanked the young man who set my food in front of me. Apparently, that wasn’t something they did here.
The last of the servers left, and Michael’s mother pinned us with her cold eyes. “Tell us what happened.”
I stuffed a huge forkful of chicken into my mouth to get out of having to answer. Ladylike? No. Desperate? You betcha. I had no regrets.
Michael answered his mother with measured calm. “As most of you know, I accompanied Nathaniel to the bonding ceremony up north last night. The magic was corrupted, by what, we’re not entirely sure, and many among those in the audience found ourselves bound against our will.”
Conversation broke out then, his siblings and in-laws voicing their surprise or offering condolences.
“So find a way to unbind yourselves,” his mother said.
Everyone else shut up.
I reached for my wine and took a healthy swig. Across from me, Amy eyed my glass with envy. Poor thing.
“It has come to my attention that there is no known way to undo it,” Michael said.
His mother’s expression darkened. “There’s one way.”
I nearly choked on my wine.
Michael chuckled, like he found her amusing, but in my head, he was anything but calm. “You so casually threaten the well-being of my mate over dinner? Come now, Mother, I thought your manners better than this.”
Goading her. Right. Sound plan, my dude. Totally going to end well.
The rest of the family wisely looked down at their plates, wanting no part of this exchange. I stuffed another piece of chicken in my mouth.
“Mate,” she said, spitting the word out like it tasted bad. “Ridiculous.”
Michael met her glare with a face wiped clean of all expression.
“Your distaste for our bond won’t in any way negate it.
Nor will your reticence. I’ll say this one time.
What happened to us is real. Even now, I can feel her, here.
” He lifted his hand and tapped a finger against his temple.
“I can feel her anxiety, her fear. The smell of her is overpowering to me. Even our pulses beat in tandem. Listen.”
Everyone at the table turned to us. Sets of eyes narrowed in concentration.
Heads tilted to point ears in our direction.
It looked like they had to strain to pick out the sound, and I stared back at them in shock.
They should have noticed our heartbeats the moment we walked into the room.
It was second nature. In conjunction with scents, it was how werewolves gauged each other’s moods.
Even adolescent shifters were able to do it.
What the hell was wrong with the Kolbecks?
“Fine,” his mother said. She gestured at us with a hand. “There’s something between you two. But it can’t be worth risking a two-year engagement that comes with the promise of extended territory and great financial gains.”
“Marlena and I have already agreed to go our separate ways,” Michael said.
I looked at him in surprise. That was news to me.
Michael’s father leaned forward. “Tell me you didn’t.”
At the head of the table, his mother growled. “Call her back and fix this. Beg for forgiveness if you have to.”
“You assume that I was the one to break things off,” Michael said. “I assure you, the decision was hers. She was quite adamant that we end the engagement.”
“Idiots, both of you,” his mother said.
I put my hands in my lap so she wouldn’t see me clench them into fists.
Deep breaths, I told myself, battling back the all-encompassing need to defend Michael.
“So, we lose a political alliance that would have added to our fortune and territory and gain… what?” his mother said, her gaze boring into me.
I looked away in submission, much like I had in the foyer earlier. No way in hell was I answering such a loaded question. I doubted there even was one that would satisfy her.
“Careful, Mother,” Michael said, his smile sharp as a knife.
“What do you even know about her?” she demanded in response.
“Admittedly, very little,” he answered. “But what I can tell you is that in the past”—he paused to glance at his watch—“not even twenty-four hours, she has suffered the shock of being bonded to me against her will, agreed to drop out of her current school, packed up her life and moved down here so that I could continue working for this family, was forced to say goodbye to her loved ones without knowing when she would see them again, has had to endure the stress of meeting a new pack, and now your onslaught of insinuations, threats, and insults, all without a single complaint.”
I mean, really, I deserved sainthood at this point.
His mother remained unmoved by his speech.
“Said goodbye to her parents?” The way she cocked her head sideways seemed antagonistic.
A sinking suspicion opened in the pit of my stomach.
“How little you know about her after all. In the several hours since meeting her, it seems I’ve learned more than you.
The Fitzpatricks are her adoptive parents. ”
Uh-oh. My heartbeat picked up, adrenaline coursing through my veins.
“I assumed they were when I met them,” Michael said. “But that was her news to share with me if and when she chose to.”
“Her real surname is Moretti.”
Oh, shit. She knew.
“Don’t do this,” I said.
She bared her teeth at me. “Don’t tell me what to do in my own house.”