Filed to story: The Tyrant Alphas Rejected Mate
This can’t be a mate thing. I don’t feel a bond. I’d know if we were connected in that way.
My wolf rumbles low in his chest, a sound used to soothe the newly born. Una stands, all false bravado. Her knees knock, swaying her skirt. I can smell her fear. Neither my wolf nor I like it. It burns our nose.
My wolf pads toward her, closer, closer, until there’s no more than an inch separating us. He lowers to his haunches, almost to eye level. Una’s pupils are huge, eating up her irises. What color are they?
I try to recall, but all I can picture is her gazing down or scurrying away, like all the lone females. And then a memory-an old one-pops up from nowhere. Brown. They’re a dark, hickory brown.
Without warning, my wolf darts forward and buries his nose in her hand, snuffling and slurping.
She yelps. Her fear spikes, and then it retreats, disappearing with her abrupt laugh. My wolf is smug with satisfaction.
She snatches her palm away and wipes it on her thigh. “That’s so gross. Your nose is wet.”
He nudges her again, nuzzling her hip, trying to reach the hand she’s now tucking behind her back. I understand why. She smells delicious. It’s subtle. I couldn’t pick it up a foot or two away, but this close, it’s fucking amazing. Delicate and earthy. Like vines and shade and pussy.
And her taste? So good. Unbelievably good.
My wolf butts his snout into her again.
She sighs and peers into our eyes, brow furrowed. I don’t know what she sees, but her demeanor changes. She relaxes.
“You aren’t him, are you?” she says. She stares a moment longer. “No. You definitely aren’t.”
My wolf whines. She actually smiles, and then she tentatively offers me her palm. I dive in, licking, covering her in my scent. She tastes-homey. A hint of salt and warm, light things. Bread straight from the oven. Melting butter.
Now he’s whining and nuzzling like a pup until she gives in and scratches behind his ears. I haven’t asked for this since my mother was alive. I’d forgotten how it feels.
My body goes boneless. I flop on the ground at her feet. She laughs softly. It’s a pretty sound. Tentative and delicate.
Behind us, Annie perks her ears, curious.
My wolf growls, but it’s playful. He nips at the hem of Una’s skirt.
“You’re as bossy as he is,” Una says, awkwardly lowering herself to the ground so she doesn’t have to bend. “And you’re big, too.”
My wolf scoots himself forward with his rear legs until he’s draped across her thigh. I tense, preparing to fight him for our skin.
Is he laying on the jacked up one? Does it hurt her?
No. He’s flopped on her good leg.
“What are you doin’, big guy?” she murmurs. He kneads her belly lazily with his front paw.
A short giggle escapes her lips. “Hey. That tickles.” She grabs the paw and puts it back.
My wolf wriggles higher on her lap and sticks his snout under her arm.
A peal of laughter rings out. “You did that on purpose!”
She shoves him back, her fingers slipping into his thick fur. “Oh. Wow. You’re so soft.”
I’m not. If I were in human form, my cock would be hard as a rock. As it is-I try not to think about it.
She plunges her fingers deeper into my pelt and scritches. My wolf’s tongue lolls, and he stops messing around, resting his muzzle on her upper thigh so he can sniff her pussy. He’s so damn happy.
I’ve never really felt his feelings before. We’re usually on the same page. Irritated. Aggressive. Excited. Horny. Somehow, he’s developed a mind of his own. Preferences.
I like big hair, big tits, a little effort. High heels and shit. I’m not into, like, homesteader chicks. But my wolf digs this female.
Mate.
It’s not possible. The wolf and the man are one. If the wolf has a mate, so does the man.
Mate.
I’ll be damned if my wolf doesn’t sound patronizing as hell. Like he’s talking to an idiot.
Annie cautiously creeps closer. My wolf ignores her. She’s not a threat.
Una glances at Annie. My wolf butts her. He wants all her attention.
She smiles, indulgent. She’s not scared-at all-anymore.
“Look at these paddles.” Una lifts my foreleg and measures herself against my paw. It eclipses her hand. Her palm is exquisitely soft against our rough pads.
Annie burrows into Una’s side and gawks. Between Liam and her, the whole pack is gonna hear about this by dinnertime.
Una’s gone back to smoothing my sides and scratching behind my ears. She’s humming under her breath, her expression dreamy. She’s pretty like this, unwary, unhurried. She seems younger. And when she leans to reach my far ear, her tits brush my flank.
Why did I never let her show me a good time?
For one, I guess she never came on to me like most of the other females. I’m not so lazy that I won’t make a move if I’m interested, but I never sniffed after her.
I’d say it was because I never noticed her, but we’re a small pack. Everyone’s on my radar, especially wolves like her who stick out.
She’s the lone female who sat at the front of the bus. The female who never shifted. The one with the tidy braid down her back. And obviously, the one with the busted leg.
If I’m gonna be honest, over the years, I’ve thought about her a lot. And little Mari and Old Noreen and the other lone females. And Conor and Jimmy and Kennedy. All the ones who would have been exiled, tormented, or exploited under my father.
Fixing that shit took years. Almost a decade, and I’m not half as far as I thought I’d be when my father passed and I beat Eamon Byrne to become alpha. Spared his life to set a new precedence-pack over ego. Pack over everything.
What my father never understood-and the elders refuse to grasp-is that subjugating and abusing your own packmates leads to a weak pack.
We’ve got Moon Lake to the east, growing fat off human money, snapping up land as quick as they can buy it. How long before they get the idea that Quarry Pack territory should rightfully be theirs? Might makes right.
If your pack has a bunch of broken females and cowering young, you look weak. I want plump, happy females swollen with young, and well-fed pups with thick coats yipping and wrestling in the commons.
In my father’s time, I’d only ever see it from the window of our old yellow bus as it rolled up to the Moon Lake school, but I knew it was good. It was strength.
So, yeah, I’ve considered Una a lot, but never in a sexual way. She’s damaged. It’d have been wrong.
My wolf doesn’t see her as off limits. He’s getting playful, and he’s not watching his strength like he should. He’s wriggling up on her lap, propping his paws against her chest to lick her face. She’d be knocked flat on her back if she wasn’t bracing herself on her arms.
He slurps right across her lips, and she shrieks, reaches up, and whacks him upside the head. I freeze.
He doesn’t even snarl. He plops back and rests his head on his paws, makin’ eyes at her, a contrite whine in the back of his throat. And then when she reaches out to pet him, he lunges up and slobbers on her face again.
He loves her shrieks.
He thinks this is the best shit ever.
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?