Page 18 of Plus-Size Bullied Mate

Someone like me doesn’t belong here, and my chest tightens at the thought.

As much as I am technically part of the pack, I’ve never really felt like it. That only got worse over time.

I hate how quickly old feelings return here, returning that smallness and shame to me all over again.

It’s like the house itself remembers exactly who I am… the outcast, the traitors’ daughter, and the girl nobody wanted around.

Now Hunter, the worst of them, is suddenly acting like my personal guard dog. That thought alone is enough to give me a migraine.

Eventually shoving the blankets off, I sit upright slowly, catching a glimpse of a sweater and pants someone left folded on the nearby chair that definitely belong to Hunter.

It smells like him, full of pine, warmth, and something distinctly male. It’s annoyingly good.

I glare at it for a moment before pulling it on anyway, since my clothes are still damp and filthy from last night.

The sleeves swallow my arms, and my mind conjures up numerous images of him holding me again, with his skin pressed against mine. Wearing his sweater should not feel as intimate as it does.

I shove that thought directly away from me, as far away as it belongs.

Outside the bedroom door, the house is suspiciously quiet.

Once I muster the courage, I crack the door open carefully and peer into the hallway, only to find it empty.

That’s a good sign. Maybe he left, or maybe sanity finally found him sometime before dawn, and he realized just how insane he was being.

Hope sparks briefly in my chest, but then I catch his scent downstairs, and I deflate immediately.

Still, I debate sneaking out anyway. I could find the right window or back door to slip through when he’s distracted and retreat to my cabin, where nobody bothers me.

The problem is, I fully believe him when he said he’d come after me. It’s not like I live in some distant place he’s unaware of. He would know exactly where to find me.

Somehow, that makes me angrier than if he’d outright threatened to harm me.

My wolf stirs uneasily beneath my skin as I move toward the stairs, on high alert as every instinct screams discomfort.

Why did he have to be the one who found me last night?

Anyone else would’ve been easier, but no, of course not.

The universe handed me directly to the boy who spent years making me feel like I was fundamentally unwanted, and now he suddenly wants me under his protection.

I grip the banister harder as I try to consolidate everything banging around in my head. Part of me wants to scream at him until my throat gives out, and another part wants to disappear and pretend none of this happened.

Mostly, I can’t shake the humiliation, because despite everything, some stupid buried part of me still cared what Hunter thought growing up.

Even if he was my worst nightmare, I still noticed him, and still wanted his approval, even while he was cutting me apart piece by piece. That might be the most embarrassing truth of all.

The kitchen comes into view as I reach the main floor, then Hunter does next.

He stands near the counter drinking coffee, broad shoulders tense beneath a dark shirt rolled to his forearms. Without missing a beat, his head lifts immediately when I enter, almost like he’s been listening for me.

My pulse betrays me instantly, and it’s so deeply annoying that it frustrates me all over again.

“You’re awake.”

“That’s obvious,” I mumble, hating the way he looks at me.

His eyes drag briefly over my face in that assessing way, checking for anything that might be out of place. The scrutiny makes me bristle immediately.