Filed to story: The Tyrant Alphas Rejected Mate
I swing my good leg over the side of the bed. My shoes are long gone. In the thicket? No, they’re in pieces back at the lodge.
At least I have clothes for my walk of shame.
I force myself to stand and take the first step to the door.
I used to dream about running away. I’d go to Moon Lake with their sparkling mansions on the lakefront. Or I’d run all the way to North Border and live with the elk and bear. But a shifter can’t run. You need the pack. Lone wolves go feral, kill innocents, and destroy themselves.
Long ago, I came to terms with the fact that running was a child’s fantasy. I make sure to close Abertha’s door firmly behind me.
There’s nowhere to go but home.
Besides, my girls are there. They’re worried. And we’ve got business. I might have gone off my rocker, but the mushroom deal is still on. I hope someone remembered to get my phone from behind the crockpot.
I take my time walking back. The sun is still rising, and there’s dew on the grass. It’s quiet. Peaceful. It feels like a fever has passed, and I’m shaken, but gaining strength by the minute. The place where the bond was is raw, but not painful.
The closer I get to camp, the stronger the sweet scent of toffee. It’s nice, but it’s not what I crave. My stomach growls. I need meat.
My wolf prances, sniffing the breeze. She seems oddly unaffected by recent events. She’s super excited to go back to camp. I want to let her out, but I wince thinking about shifting again so soon. Maybe this evening. That puts a spring in my step.
I skirt the commons and follow the ridge, approaching my cabin from behind. Only elders are up this early, and I really don’t want to see them after yesterday’s naked mortification. Or was it the day before? Time’s a little fuzzy.
I round the cabin, and I’m almost to my front steps when a throat clears. I jump and whirl. Thankfully, I’ve already grabbed the banister, so I keep my balance.
It’s Killian, leaning against the outbuilding across the path. He’s wearing a gray sweatshirt, hood up, and his customary faded jeans that cling to his thighs. My heart beats faster, but in the way it always does around him. He’s built and scary and objectively hot. It’s a normal female reaction.
I scan my body. No sign of heat.
I exhale and stare at his boots. It’s as close to a bent neck as he’s getting today.
“Where were you?” His voice is brusque but even.
He doesn’t come closer. He’s propped one heel on the wall, and with another male, it’d look casual, but with his air of raw power, it’s menacing as hell. I hug my arms to my chest.
“Abertha’s.”
Where I go is none of his damn business-and now it never will be-but I’m not stupid. He’s alpha, and I have too much riding on my freedom of movement to antagonize him. The sooner I go back to being invisible to him, the better.
“For two days?” He lowers his leg and takes a measured step toward me. It’s a dominance thing. I’m supposed to get nervous and back away.
I mean, I am nervous, but he’s also transparent as hell.
I shrug a shoulder. It’s an old wives’ tale that shifters can taste lies, but-I’m as superstitious as the next wolf. I’m not risking it.
I keep my mouth shut and let him assume what he wants while I stare at his feet. They’re huge, but proportional. Not like a clown’s or anything.
That would be ridiculous.
So now I’m picturing him in oversized shoes and a red nose. All of the stress of the past forty-eight hours is balling up into one self-destructive, manic urge to bust out laughing.
I chomp down on the inside of my cheek.
There is nothing funny about this.
If I laugh, I’ll look insane. When Killian’s father was alpha, they exiled wolves with moon madness. A few still live in the foothills. You can hear them at night.
“Why are you smiling?” He stalks closer, but not too close. Maybe three clown feet away.
I shake my head and literally bite my tongue until my eyes water.
“Are you crying now?”
“No.”
“Have you gone mad?” My gaze flies to his. He’s serious.
He doesn’t really joke. To be honest, back in school, I always thought he was kind of dense. I had a few classes with him, and whenever the teacher asked him a question, Tye or Ivo would call out the answer.
“I’m fine.” I make my face look sincere.
I’m a hot mess, my hair is in tangles, I’m clearly wearing someone else’s clothes, and I’m doing the walk of shame smelling like herbs and blackberry juice, but in my experience, folks accept the answer they want to hear.
Killian scrubs his chest. There’s a very faint growl coming from his wolf. “So this bullshit about being my mate?”
“I-” The stab of pain surprises me. I breathe through it.
Why should I care that he thinks it’s bullshit? It is now.
He waits for an answer, frowning. Irritated.
“I made a mistake,” I say, mentally crossing my fingers.
“Yeah.” His frown deepens. He’s only two years older than I am, but he already has thin lines bracing his mouth, as well as the ones at the corners of his eyes. He looks like he’s pushing forty, not thirty. “What were you doing at Abertha’s?”
A chew on my lip. What do I say? His gaze darts to my mouth. His wolf rumbles. He swallows.
Might as well stick to the truth. “Nursing my wounds.”
He rakes his gaze down my front as if he’s trying to see through my wrinkled T-shirt and sagging hippie skirt, but in a very critical, and not at all in a lascivious way. His lip curls. He does not approve of my outfit.
Screw him. I swear he’s been wearing that same pair of jeans since before graduation.
He folds his arms and glares down his nose. “You were foolish to attack Haisley.”
“Oh, I get that now.”
“She’s got forty pounds on you, at least.”
Tonight, before I go to bed, I am going to replay that line in my head and snicker and be very disappointed in myself.
“There’s no way you could’ve won,” he adds.
“I know.”
He grunts.
My agreement seems to be pissing him off. He starts pacing. “You’ve got to compensate for weakness.”
What is happening? This feels like a lecture, but we’re alone, and the dynamic is weird. He’s dominant, the most dominant wolf I’ve ever met, including his father. My bloodlines are solidly middle pack going back generations. Nature demands that I recognize him as a threat, but I’m not scared or intimidated. Neither is my wolf. She’s-basking. There’s no other word for it. She’s just happy to be here.
I should be getting a crick in my neck from bending it. I’d hate it, but I shouldn’t be able to resist, not with an alpha this close and obviously upset. But I feel no compulsion to show my submission.
New Book: Veiled Desires of the Alpha King Novel
Dayson was the alpha of the largest pack in North America. Powerful figures from other packs sought to offer gorgeous girls as potential mates for Dayson. He steadfastly rejected these advances, he was not a pawn to be manipulated. But eventually there came a mysterious girl he could hardly say No. Who was she?