Filed to story: The Tyrant Alphas Rejected Mate
He’s playing me.
I tense.
He squeezes, like a massage. My wolf growls. His hand drops, and he looks at me, really looks, much closer than before.
“Holy shit. You’re one of them, aren’t you? A shifter. I wondered-since this town is kind of known for being close to a pack. Wow. You’re a wolf, right?”
“Does that matter?”
His eyes flicker, and he licks his lips again. “Not at all. I vote pro wolf, all the way. You guys deserve citizenship. Most definitely.”
I’m not up on the pro wolf stuff. That’s more Moon Lake’s bag. Still, I guess pro wolf is better than anti.
“You know, I have an idea. If you really need the money. I mean, I really can’t do more than a hundred on the morels, but I did bring the whole three hundred.”
He pauses, his gaze flickering around the market, like he’s looking for something. My wolf’s hackles are raised. She really doesn’t like this guy. Neither do I.
“My van is just over there.” He jerks his thumb to a white work van with rust along the bottom. “We could, uh, come to an arrangement, if you want the rest?”
“I’m not having sex with you for money.” I hug my mushrooms tighter.
“No, no. You misunderstand.” He lowers his voice and leans in. “Just pictures. A little video. You, uh, become the wolf. Shift back. Pose. I’ll crop out your head. It’ll take five minutes. Ten tops.”
My stomach heaves, and a sour taste fills my mouth. “I’m not doing that. Give me the three hundred.”
“Come on. It’s just-“
My wolf growls, loud, a perfectly clear threat. He holds one hand up and digs the other into his pocket.
And then I catch a scent on the wind, and my heart leaps once, high in my throat, and then takes off in a gallop.
It’s Killian.
He’s close.
I scan the booths, and there he is, a blur rushing towards us, and I can’t get a word out, I can’t move an inch before he shoves me to the side and bowls into ShroomForager3000, sending him sailing into the air. My jar is knocked from my hands, and it falls to the sidewalk, shattering.
Killian’s tan work boots land on the mushrooms, crushing them into pulp, as he bounds to loom over the human, fangs bared, claws unsheathed.
Screams pierce the air. There’s the scent of piss. ShroomForager3000 scrambles backwards like a crab.
My mushrooms are brown goo. There are a handful intact, but they glitter with glass shards. Morels have so many ridges, even if I soak and rinse them, I can’t be sure to get them clean. They are all ruined.
Three hundred dollars, down the drain.
No unlimited data. No mushroom farm. Nothing.
All that time, gathering and drying, scouring the online forums, wasted. Finding this creep. Listening to his creepy proposition. And I’ve got nothing.
My eyes prickle, hot with tears.
Killian looms over ShroomForager3000. “You dare touch what’s mine?”
It’s a roar. He’s an enraged alpha. I should drop to my knees and simper, neck bared, but I don’t. I don’t care that my wolf is baring her neck and practically mewling. My hands curl into tight fists. He destroyed my mushrooms, and he doesn’t even care.
ShroomForager3000 sputters. He can’t manage a word.
“Stand,” Killian commands. “Fight me.”
ShroomForager3000 shakes his head hard, waxed beard swaying as a whole. “No way, dude. I didn’t know the shrooms were yours, man. If I had known, I wouldn’t have made an offer, hand to God.” He raises his hand. “I don’t want any trouble.”
Killian just stands there, growling.
My wolf whimpers, and in the silence, it resonates in my own throat.
ShroomForager3000 glances at me.
“You don’t look at her.” Killian steps to the side to block me from view, puffing his chest, broadening his stance.
“Whatever you say, man. You’re the guy with the fangs.”
Killian looks at me. “You smell-afraid? But also like you’re gonna puke? Why?”
I’m not telling him about the invitation to get in the shroom van. I loathe the dude, but I don’t want him dead. So I don’t say anything.
“Una?” Killian’s voice is louder.
I stare at the brown fungi slush with the footprint.
Killian huffs in exasperation.
My nose is burning now. I’m gonna cry. In front of humans.
From the corner of my eye, I see the woman from the souvenir stand slowly approach, her hands raised, the bangles on her wrist clinking. “Hey, Una. What’s going on over here?”
A siren wails in the distance. The humans have called their enforcers.
I’m not going to be able to come back. Everything I’ve worked for-everything-is busted and broken. A tear dribbles down my cheek.
“Are you safe, honey? You want to come over to my booth with me?” She offers her hand.
My heart cracks. A human can’t help me.
I scrub my face with my sleeve and sniff back the tears. “I’m leaving. Don’t worry. He won’t hurt the human. It’s against pack law.”
And Killian is pack law. He decides, and it is so. I’m not his mate. I belong to him. Whatever he says.
My nails dig into the flesh of my palms.
It’s not fair. None of this is. And I’m not standing here a moment longer with humans staring at me. Pitying me.
I turn my back, and I walk across the lawn toward the truck, back ramrod straight, leg dragging in the grass. Killian can do what he wants. I don’t care. My wolf growls her accord.
And yet, every step I take, his scent dogs my heels. I want to scrub it out of my nose.
I reach for the door handle, and his hand is there, blocking me. He’s crowding me, his chest pressed to my back, his breath on my neck.
“Keys,” he says.
They’re in my backpack. I don’t want to hand them over. I want him to die and fall in a deep hole and go flying out the other side of the world. I want someone to ruin everything he worked for. I want him to have to ask permission and sneak around and hustle for every penny because he doesn’t have a choice.
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?