The Unexpected Sister

TAMSIN’S POV

My sleep is a chaotic battlefield of nightmares. I twist within the luxurious bedding, caught in an endless loop of terror. The stench of wet soil and rotting meat fills my nose. The rogue wolf that murdered my mother steps out of the shadows. His jaws drip with thick crimson blood. He lunges at me. Before his heavy paws strike my chest, his monstrous features shift back into a human face. My father stares down at me, his eyes full of relentless disgust. He raises his fist. Then he morphs into Declan. My brother’s cruel, mocking laughter echoes through the dark void as he kicks me into the dirt. I brace for the next harsh blow, but Declan vanishes. Gideon stands over me next. His silver eyes hold no warmth. The scene shifts one final time. Draven towers above my cowering form. His massive shoulders block out the moon. He steps forward with lethal intent.

I jerk awake holding my breath. Cold sweat glues my hair to my forehead. I scramble backward across the massive mattress into the corner. My chest heaves. I press my spine against the tufted headboard, curling my knees tight against my sternum. The darkness of the master suite offers no genuine comfort. Draven spared me last night, but the sheer terror of facing my new Alpha mates tightens like an iron iron vice around my throat. I ran away last night. In my old pack, running meant broken ribs. It meant starvation. I drag a trembling hand over my face. I close my eyes and force my breathing to slow. The nightmare slowly recedes. Over the next few hours, I drift in and out of consciousness. The cold sweats return each time I doze off. The faces blur together. Fatigue eventually grounds me. Heavy exhaustion overtakes my panic, dragging me under. I finally drift into a patch of quiet, dreamless slumber.

The sharp clatter of window blinds being thrown open jolts me upright. Bright morning sunlight floods the room. Golden rays cut across the dark sheets. I squeeze my eyes shut against the fierce glare, pulling the blankets up to my chin.

"Wakey, wakey! I am taking you on an urgent shopping trip." A bubbly, high-pitched voice bounces off the bedroom walls.

A petite girl stands by the massive window. She radiates vibrant, restless energy. She points a finger at my chest. Draven's borrowed flannel shirt buries my small frame. The hem reaches past my knees. The thick sleeves swallow my hands.

"You look absurdly oversized in my brother's clothes. We must fix this immediately." She crosses the room with confident strides.

Cold terror clutches my chest. A Thorne. Another member of their powerful bloodline. I scramble backward against the headboard again, ripping my body away from her approach. I clutch the thick blankets like a shield. My heart hammers a frantic rhythm against my bruised ribs. Did they send her because they refused to dirty their own hands?

"Did they send you to punish me?" My voice trembles as I whisper the desperate question.

The girl freezes. Her bright demeanor shatters, replaced by deep compassion. She lowers her hands to her sides and forces her shoulders to slump. She moves forward inch by inch. She moves the same way one approaches a trapped, wounded animal. She sits carefully on the far edge of the mattress, leaving plenty of physical distance between us.

"I swear on the Moon Goddess I would never harm you. My name is Brenna Thorne. I am the younger sister to those giant, overbearing brute mates of yours." Brenna gestures loosely at the door. "I desperately want a best friend. My older brothers intimidate everyone away from this estate. Please let us be friends."

I search her sincere hazel eyes. No malice lurks in her youthful gaze. No hidden traps wait in her open posture. My panic recedes into a dull, manageable ache. The tense muscles in my shoulders lower. I nod once. I introduce myself quietly. Brenna beams. She motions toward the attached primary bathroom, encouraging me to freshen up.

I step into the private bathroom and lock the heavy wooden door behind me. Gleaming marble and polished glass surround me. I shed the massive flannel shirt and turn the silver dial. Steam rises. I have not felt hot water in over a decade. I step under the sprawling showerhead. The scalding spray hits my tense muscles. The heat soaks into my cold flesh, washing away the lingering sweat of my nightmares. I stand there for a long, luxurious span of time. I use a fragrant, expensive body wash smelling of cedar and sweet citrus.

I shut off the water and step onto the plush bathmat. I wrap a huge white towel around my waist. I stand upright before the vast full-length mirror. The thick vapor clears, revealing my reflection. The brutal truth of my past stares back at me. Jagged white lines crisscross my pale torso. A thick, raised scar runs over my collarbone from the rogue wolf. Countless smaller marks coat my shoulders and snake down my arms. Whip marks, belt burns, and deep, uneven gouges left by Declan. Self-loathing fills my chest. My fingers trace the rough ridges of my flesh. I am a broken, ruined canvas. I wonder how someone so mutilated could ever be worthy of Alpha mates. I swallow hard, fighting a fresh wave of tears. I pull Draven’s thick flannel back over my damp skin and quietly step out of the bathroom.

I walk down the grand staircase beside Brenna. We reach the massive foyer. Draven, Gideon, and a third male block the main double doors. Brenna told me earlier the third guard is named Ryker. I study their imposing forms. Draven looks like a fortress of muscle clad in a dark tailored shirt. Gideon stands with his arms crossed, locking his silver eyes onto me the second my foot hits the ground floor. Ryker shifts his weight. I do not miss the subtle, flustered blush exchanged between Brenna and Ryker as they lock eyes. Brenna quickly drops her gaze to the marble tiles, biting her lower lip.

"We are taking Tamsin out to buy actual clothes." Brenna places her hands on her hips and glares at her towering eldest sibling.

Draven adamantly refuses to step aside. "Nobody is taking my mate out unguarded. It is not safe."

Brenna huffs. She gestures toward me standing quietly on the bottom stair. "Look at her. She looks ridiculous drowning in your shirts."

Draven chuckles. The deep, rich sound echoes off the high ceilings. "I find her adorable wearing my massive flannel shirt. However, I refuse to compromise on security." He turns his attention to the other two males. "Gideon, Ryker. You two will escort the girls. I have extensive pack documents to review from yesterday."

Draven steps past me, heading toward the north corridor. As he passes, he raises his large hand. He lightly trails his rough fingers along the exposed skin of my forearm. A sudden jolt of warm, crackling sparks races straight from the point of contact to my core. The intense fiery sensation leaves me breathless. My lips part. My heart hammers against my sternum. Draven meets my shocked gaze for a split second before vanishing down the hallway toward his office.

Ryker drives the massive black SUV. Gideon rides shotgun. The two males discuss border patrols and pack logistics in low voices. Brenna and I sit in the spacious backseat. The sterile tension breaks instantly. Brenna nudges her shoulder against mine. She pulls me into a quiet, giggling debate.

"I still think Ryker has the best jawline in the pack. But Gideon has those intense, dominating silver eyes. Who is more handsome?" Brenna whispers behind her hand, casting sly glances toward the front seats.

I inspect the back of Gideon’s head. I trace the broad slope of his shoulders.

"Gideon," I whisper back. I catch Ryker looking in the rearview mirror. "Though Ryker is not a bad option either."

Brenna bursts into a fit of lively chuckles. I cover my mouth to muffle my own laughter. For the first time since my mother died on that muddy forest floor, I feel genuinely light and at ease. The crushing anxiety defining my miserable existence takes a brief back seat.

The SUV exits the highway and pulls into a sprawling commercial sector. Ryker parks in a massive paved lot. I step out of the vehicle. I stare at the colossal glass doors of the towering shopping mall. The sheer scale of the concrete super-structure leaves me wide-eyed in astonishment. I spent my days trapped inside a damp basement or washing dishes in a tiny kitchen for eleven years. Unaccustomed to such vibrant colors and open freedom, the sensory overload staggers me.

Brenna grabs my forearm. She drags me toward the sliding glass doors with boundless enthusiasm. The two male warriors shadow our steps, keeping a respectable tactical distance behind us.

We stroll past endless rows of bright window displays. Gideon moves smoothly into the empty space on my left side. He acts without looking down. His large hand brushes mine. He smoothly slides his thick fingers into mine, weaving our hands together. A cascade of soothing, warm tingles shoots up my arm. The electric warmth chases away any lingering nervous chill in my blood. His firm, grounding grip wraps me in a profound sense of safety. I glance up and give him a shy smile. The hard lines of his mouth soften into a rare, gentle expression. He does not let go.

We enter a bustling, high-end fashion boutique. Brenna works like a storm. She pulls armfuls of fashionable outfits from the polished metal racks. Designer denims, flowing silk blouses, and ruffled skirts pile high in her arms.

"These are too revealing. I need thick cloth." I reach out for a stack of bulky, long-sleeved turtleneck sweaters.

"Not an option." Brenna intercepts my hand and puts the sweaters back.

I want to hide my scars. My quiet attempts to override her fail altogether. Brenna dismisses every baggy item I grab, insisting on showing off my figure.

Gideon steps away from my side. He browses a separate section of formalwear with practiced ease. He returns carrying three stunning, elegant dresses. The first is a striking sapphire-blue halter gown. The second is an emerald green dress with delicate spaghetti straps. The third is a sleek, strapless grey-to-black gradient dress. He also carries three boxes of coordinating designer heels under one arm.

Gideon stands in front of me. He holds the sapphire fabric against my chest. He studies my form. An intense, appreciative glint burns in his silver eyes. His wolf stirs beneath surface, eager to claim and adorn his mate. He nods in firm approval. He hands the massive pile to the cashier and jerks his chin at Ryker. The two males step out to give us space.

Left alone with Brenna, the shopping pace accelerates. She drags me straight into Victoria’s Secret. The walls glow in deep pinks and lace.

"We must buy silk lingerie. You need sets that will drive your mates wild." Brenna holds up a scandalous sequence of crimson silk garments.

Heat rushes to my cheeks. I shake my head fiercely, but she simply shoves the garments into the shopping basket, ignoring my frantic protests.

Dozens of glossy shopping bags fill the trunk of the SUV. The sun dips lower in the sky as Ryker pulls the heavy vehicle out of the mall parking lot. I sink into the comfortable leather backseat. Suddenly, an icy shiver crawls down my spine. The fine hairs on my arms stand on end. Every survival instinct beaten into me by my abusive father flares to life. Someone is watching us.

I turn my head toward the window. I glance through the dark tinted glass toward the surrounding landscape. A dense tree line borders the outer edge of the asphalt lot. My breath catches in my throat. Two glowing golden eyes watch our vehicle intently from the dark foliage. The sinister stare tracks our movement with predatory focus. I blink hard, but the vehicle speeds up, merging onto the busy road. The ominous eyes vanish into the shadows, leaving behind a cold knot of dread in my stomach.

We arrive home. Gideon and Ryker pop the trunk. They haul our mountain of shopping bags up the grand staircase. They bypass the suite I woke up in. They lead us down the hall into a fresh space.

"This is your newly assigned bedroom. We placed you directly between Draven’s room and my room to help you transition comfortably." Gideon drops his load of bags onto a massive tufted bench.

The gorgeous suite features a soft neutral color palette, a massive four-poster bed, and custom hardwood floors. The males nod to us and promptly step out, closing the door firmly behind them.

Brenna pulls her smartphone from her pocket. She connects to a sleek Bluetooth speaker sitting on the nightstand. She blasts upbeat pop music into the space. We kick off our shoes and dance across the smooth hardwood. We sing loud, off-key lyrics into imaginary microphones. We spend hours organizing my sprawling new wardrobe into the vast walk-in closet. I relish the simple joys I was denied my entire youth. Laughing, dancing, and trying on new clothes feel like magical privileges.

The sun vanishes beyond the tree line. Utterly exhausted but happier than I have ever been, we collapse together across the plush king-size bed. We sink into the luxury duvet. Brenna grabs the remote and turns on a Netflix movie. The soft glow of the screen fills the dark room. Our chatter fades into contented silence. We drift peacefully to sleep. I close my eyes, unaware of the predatory eyes that monitored our movements at the mall.