The Wolf’s Bullied Mate

The Wolf’s Bullied Mate Enemies to Lovers Shifter Romance Beaufort Creek Shifters Book 6 Layla Silver Copyright © 2023 by Layla Silver. All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of the book only. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form, including recording, without prior written permission from the publisher, except for brief quotations in a book review. Contents Chapter 1 - Isaiah Chapter 2 - Jada Chapter 3 - Isaiah Chapter 4 - Jada Chapter 5 - Isaiah Chapter 6 - Jada Chapter 7 - Isaiah Chapter 8 - Jada Chapter 9 - Isaiah Chapter 10 - Jada Chapter 11 - Isaiah Chapter 12 - Jada Chapter 13 - Isaiah Chapter 14 - Jada Chapter 15 - Isaiah Chapter 16 - Jada Chapter 17 - Isaiah Chapter 18 - Jada Chapter 19 - Isaiah Epilogue - Jada About the Author Books by Layla Silver Chapter 1 - Isaiah A blanket of blue the shade of starlight melted away the cover of night as I raced across the dirt road. Rocks clacked against the tips of my steel-toed boots, frantic strides carrying me to the moist patch of grass just beyond the dark tan path. Leaves crunched underfoot. Lingering crickets heralded a new day while a lonely owl hooted somewhere in the distance. Could have been an animal. Could have been a pack member too. It was hard to tell around these parts. As I launched over a hill, I got a better view of the cornfield and the structures standing beyond the shadowy stalks. My stomach flipped as I sprinted through the taller grass, an earthy scent springing from every stomp of my boots. Flowers bent to my will as I scampered with feverish adrenaline around the field to get to one of the nearest barns. Two weeks of being an early riser on this godforsaken farm and I’d decided to sleep in today of all days. Without any coffee to fuel me, I was running on pure anxiety, sweating despite the fact that I was probably ten times as strong as anybody around here. They might have been shifters, but I was a greater asset than three wolf shifters combined, my muscles containing a secret formula made of whey protein, eggs, and enough coffee to give an elephant a heart attack. I huffed as I slowed my pace. The doors of the closest barn were parted slightly. Light spilled out onto the earth, sharp yellow cutting the reddish soil that contrasted the impending light of the sun. I straightened my posture, squared my shoulders, and shoved the door aside, listening to it screech on its hinges. What a sound to hear at the crack of dawn. It grated me to my bones, sending me directly to the table on the right, the one with the industrial coffee maker and reusable mugs. I filled two peach mugs, slammed a hefty amount of sugar into those babies, and then double-fisted the nectar of the gods as I went to check the pairing board on the opposite wall. Our makeshift leader was an organizational nerd who prepped schedules well before dawn. I swore she rarely got any sleep. The way she paired people in the field annoyed me to no end too. If it were me in charge, I would’ve had this place doubling its output within three days. There was no doubt about that. But no, my alpha had decided to defer to their alpha, the Hayden pack alpha, a guy who wore a leather jacket in the middle of a hot day. Like some kind of smart-ass. Like it wasn’t hot at all in Beaufort, South Carolina where humidity clung for dear life on every gulp of air like a clingy ex-girlfriend who couldn’t take a damn hint. One long swig from the right mug reduced my irritation about two percent. With an additional swig from the left mug, it was reduced by five. More sips set me straight, but it wasn’t going to be enough to deal with that bubbly attitude from that ridiculously spirited and annoying wolf. Who wasn’t even from the same pack as me. Two weeks, I thought. Troy gave up the Bravecrest pack at the first sign of us being destroyed. Now we’re stuck with the Hayden pack, who couldn’t even come up with a better name than their alpha’s last name. Three bombs detonated in my gut signaling another wave of agitation. That was fine. Coffee would do the trick to quell the aftershock. That was the idea, anyway. “That stuff is going to kill you one day.” The uninvited comment drew my attention away from the dry-erase board. If irritation alone was enough to inspire a cataclysmic event, my eyes could have very well been registered as lethal weapons. And while I couldn’t knock her down for that statement, the least I could do was make her aware that she wasn’t welcome to make another kind of comment like that in the future. Even if she was technically my boss. Sinister energy swirled around me as I turned to face the curvy woman with caramel-brown hair tucked into a bun on her head. Compared to me, she was remarkably short. Sharp in the mouth but short and largely harmless. She wore a white tank top with multicolored cotton pants tied with a white sash. Nothing a field worker would typically wear. Not even the beat-up tennis shoes on her feet could have told me she was a field worker. Teacher, maybe. Crafter. But definitely not physical labor. Soft honey-tan brown skin flushed with a coat of scarlet for a brief second, her oval face appearing more angular with the lighting. But it was just the lighting. Her thick brows knotted together in what I assumed was an attempt at disappointment and almond-brown eyes glared right back at me, daring me to say something back to her. Oh, I had