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Wolf's Spurious Mate

Vice President of the Hell's Fang motorcycle club is Dale "King" Wilson. He is a wolf shifter who only desires power and has no desire for family or love. He needs a wife in order to be the MC's president. As a result of her abusive ex-husband tormenting her because she did not have his children, Jocelyn is on the run. She comes across an advertisement for a job as a fake bride when in a desperate and poor state. Complete discretion and no children under any circumstances are Dale's only requirements.

ARCHSON_KE · Urban
Not enough ratings
6 Chs

Chapter One

Jocelyn was worn out. It was wrong no matter what she did. She had long given up on attempting to please Carter since it was impossible. Now, all that remained was to try to keep the peace with him as much as possible, but there were occasions when it was simply impossible.

She had longed for her husband's touch and couldn't wait for him to get home, but those times have disappeared since the affair started. She had made an exception for the first, neglected the second, and lost interest by the third.

She thought about leaving him every day, but something always seemed to stop her. She struggled to identify the niggling feeling that kept her up at night.

"How many times are we going to talk about this?" Jocelyn moaningly.

Carter yelled back, "As many times as it comes up."

Jocelyn turned and started to go away when she felt her arm being grabbed and she was violently pulled backward. He had an odor of alcohol on his breath. He arrived back here smelling like strippers and alcohol after spending the entire night drinking with his boys. It wasn't anything novel. However, the increase in physical violence was a relatively recent development. She drew away as he threw his grasp from her arm, her eyes full of hate.

She spat at him, "You smell like a fucking whorehouse."

"So?"

"You must have missed the portion of our wedding ceremony where we pledged to leave everyone else behind, I guess. You must have forgotten the clause in the agreement that says you must multiply and bear fruit."

She had been hurt the first time he had spoken so crudely about her inability to get pregnant. Now she didn't care about it at all. He was no longer able to harm her. At one point, she desired having children. After their first year of marriage, they had made numerous attempts to become pregnant, but it had never happened.

Jocelyn had undergone testing, submitting to any procedure the physicians requested in the hopes that they would discover a problem inside her that could be fixed, but they were unable to identify any issues.

Nothing had nevertheless been successful. Instead, they suggested having him tested. At first, he had objected, claiming that he couldn't possible be the issue. Years earlier, he had attempted pregnancy on his high school girlfriend, but she had lost the baby. He asserted that despite not being a father, he was more than capable of fulfilling his role.

"Thank you, Carter. This occurred eleven years ago. Let's simply discount it."

In the end, he had consented to visit his own physician and undergo testing; as a result, he discovered that he had no problems with mechanics or sperm count. They just kept trying and hoping, whatever the cause of their infertility may have been. For better odds, Jocelyn even started doing fertility treatments.

All had failed, and now their marriage had as well. She turned calmly and remarked, "You're a genuine bastard when you drink," but he wasn't having it.

Jocelyn was unprepared for the subsequent violent altercation. Recently, he had become a little more aggressive toward her, grasping her firmly and occasionally shaking her, but now he had moved up to outright assault. She pulled away in an effort to ward off his strikes before collapsing in the corridor. His wingtip shoes delivered a swift kick to the side as a result.

He was caught off guard as she suddenly rose off the floor and yelled, "No," with all the wrath she could muster. She was taken aback by her own power as her arm seemed to take on a life of its own and shoot upward, clocking him hard in the nose. He moaned in anguish as tears began to flow from his eyes. As he lurched backward away from her, blood started to run down his face. His voice was fairly high pitched and whistled from his congested nasal passages as he said, "You fucking bitch!"

She was astounded at how fast he regained his composure and lunged for her in an attempt to drag her down by grabbing hold of her hair. However, she dodged his grab by ducking to one side.

His eyes had a threatening blackness to them. She had never seen anything like it before. She was unsure of his next move and had no desire to find out. Instead, she jumped for her handbag, which was on a neighboring counter, and snatched it toward her as she attempted to retrieve her keys and fled for the front door. She stumbled over them and wrenched them loose with trembling hands, dumping them on the front stoop before grabbing them once again.

She started the car and started to reverse it out of the driveway, trying to steady her hand inside. Although she didn't know where she was going, she was aware that she couldn't stay with him here.

She remained motionless until she noticed him coming toward her out of the front entrance. Blood from his nose covered the front of his shirt. It was sufficient to shake her out of her momentary lethargy.

She quickly backed onto the street, shifted to first, and threw the car into reverse. The tires squealed as she sped away from their area in the direction of, well, who knows where. Her purse contained her phone, which started to ring. She was certain that it was him. It rang until voicemail answered, at which point it started to ring again. Undoubtedly him. The ringing eventually stopped after a while, but the message chimes started. She rolled down the window, took the phone out of her purse, and threw it over the railing into the river below as the car approached a nearby bridge.

But not that phone—she needed one.

He had given her one, and it was clear that it would be snipped off before she even reached her destination. She didn't believe she would want to see whatever he had to say in his messages and texts. Additionally, only his name was on the car. He'd accept that as well. The same is true for their home and pretty much everything else they had. He had encouraged her to give up her career, and as a result, all that was left of her possessions were the items in her handbag and the clothes she was wearing.

She pulled into the neighborhood police station as soon as she arrived at the town's outskirts. She got her purse, parked the car in their parking lot, and left the keys in the ignition. She was tempted to leave it unlocked and see if someone was bold enough to take it, but she knew that if they did, she would only get into more trouble. Instead, she secured it before leaving. She was aware that he would report it stolen and that they would locate it using the lo-jack that was provided with the road assistance. This seemed to be the safest location to leave it because she didn't want it anywhere near where she might be. Additionally, he would be scared if he believed she had gone to report him.

She stepped outside and scanned the area while she considered her next move. There was nothing but unpleasant recollections at this location. She made up her mind, rather than waiting to see what else might occur. Before heading to the bus stop, she went to the bank to withdraw the meager amount of cash she had in her personal account.