Filed to story: The Tyrant Alphas Rejected Mate
I don’t.
He could take it and stomp it and say, “Hah, hah. Joking.”
But he won’t. My wolf and I both know that.
And that’s not trust, but it’s something. Enough so that I loosen my grip.
Satisfaction flares in his eyes. They crinkle deeper at the corners. My heart skips.
He holds the screen up to me. “Type in your code.”
I do. 5338. Bees backwards.
He taps away, and then he hands it back. “Now you’ve got my number.”
I don’t know what to say. I sneak a quick peek at my contact list. It’s pretty short. He put himself in as “Killian.”
Warmth spreads through my chest, a rush, like when you’re in the bath and you turn the faucet all the way to hot when the water cools down too much. I feel seventeen. And silly. And flustered.
“The other elders will not tolerate this,” Eamon says.
Dermot snorts. “Which elders? You know they all got phones, right? Cheryl. Nuala. Tippety tap. All night long. Sneakin’ off to the kitchen. Air bombing each other.” He shakes his head. “That horse has done left the building. We closed the barn door long after he left.”
“It’s called air dropping,” Finn says.
Dermot waves him off. “It’s called progress. You can’t stop it.” Dermot rests his folded hands on his round belly.
“Well, the mated males are going to have something to say about it,” Eamon insists. He’s not letting it go. Under the sideburns, his cheeks are red. His knee jiggles.
“Good thing I’m prepared for that.” Killian smiles, and it sends a shiver down my back. It’s a warning. Eamon is treading on dangerous ground. He bends his neck ever so slightly, but his disgruntled expression doesn’t change.
My wolf snaps at him. The males startle. Eamon flashes his fangs and then snaps his lips closed, turning away. Then Dermot, Tye, and Ivo crack up.
“Better watch it, Eamon.” Tye slaps him on the back. “The alpha’s female doesn’t like you challenging her mate.”
I watch Eamon fake a smile. This isn’t a joke to him.
I remember the run-in on the path and goosebumps break out on my forearms. I hug myself and ignore the males as they go back to the spreadsheets. At one point, Ivo calls Killian over to the coffee table to show him something. At the same time, Tye bounces into the kitchen, asking if anyone else wants a beer. Alfie sidles up to Killian to peer at the papers.
I don’t realize for a moment that Eamon and Finn used the general movement to wander over to me. They aren’t close. I have no doubt that would grab Killian’s attention. But they’re near enough for me to overhear their conversation. I can’t avoid it.
“It’ll be a shame,” Eamon says, turning his head left then right, loose-jowled.
“What will?” Finn asks like he’s delivering a line. Badly.
“Females who don’t know their place. They’ll bring a strong male down, every time.”
Finn sighs. “No one to blame but themselves.”
“And when the dust settles, no one to call.” Eamon skewers me with his cold, rheumy eyes.
“You don’t need a phone when you’re on your knees in a Last Pack den,” Finn says, smirking.
Eamon smacks him upside the head and turns away as Tye comes back, announcing, “Beers!”
My blood runs cold.
Killian glances over, brows knit, but I’m sitting here alone. He frowns. He must not have noticed Eamon and Finn lingering nearby. He raises an eyebrow. I don’t know what to do, so I lower my gaze. When Ivo nudges his arm, Killian turns back at the documents.
A steadying thrum comes through the thread between us, though. Like a soothing scritch behind the ears. It’s stronger now. No more avoiding the fact that Abertha was wrong. It wasn’t forever. The bond is growing back, which is terrifying, but not the problem in front of me right now.
Should I tell Killian what Eamon and Finn said? I’m not scared of them. In a room with other packmates.
But Killian’s not always there. He wasn’t on the path that day. And he can’t be everywhere at once. Right now, Kennedy, Mari, and Annie are alone at the cabin. And who’s been tasked to watch the place? Lochlan? A B-roster male who wouldn’t bat an eye if Lochlan told him to scram?
Right now, it’s just words. Males who got taken down a peg, blowing off steam, asserting dominance so they aren’t the lowest on the ladder.
If I told Killian, though, it’d become a challenge. He has too much pride for it not to be. Killian would win against either Eamon or Finn, of course, and I’d have an even bigger target on my back with the Byrnes and their backers.
And Killian is all about me today, but when was the last time he declared I wasn’t his mate? Last night?
The reality is-when whatever weirdness is happening now is over-I’m going to have to live in this pack. Better keep my head down and my mouth shut. It’s served me fairly well in life so far.
Killian flashes me another glance. The corners of his eyes are creased. I give him a smile. He looks even more worried.
“That’s enough,” he says, cutting off Ivo mid-sentence. “My mate needs to rest before dinner.”
And at exactly that second, when everyone’s staring, I spontaneously yawn.
The males laugh.
Eamon’s laugh in particular is loud with a cutting edge.
UNA
The further we get from Tye’s cabin, the more my tension eases. Killian lifts me down the stairs again, and then his hands don’t leave my body. He guides me by my elbow. The small of my back. My hip.
I’m not used to someone so close to my back, so focused on me. I trip a half dozen times, way more than usual.
And despite the crisp evening air, the wool in my brain is thicker than ever. The sun has sunk below the foothills. It’s almost dinner time, and I’m hungry, but as Killian and I walk side by side, I’m also drawn deeper, moment by moment, into a kind of tempting flow. I’m entranced.
I want to follow where Killian goes. Not for any reason, but because that’s the direction of the current.
I grasp the place our bond used to be, and it’s not empty anymore. The thread is a string now. The place where it roots into me tingles. Throbs.
Can it grow all the way back?
Abertha said the loss was permanent. No bond, no hope of children. Does she know for sure, though? She said she can’t predict what might happen. That the Fates have a tendency of getting their way in the end.
And I’m definitely not myself.
I’m always thinking. Planning. What needs doing? How can I get or make a new beekeeping veil? Who can I trade for sticker paper for my Cricut? Where can I find that vintage game called Street Fighter Alpha that Fallon’s been bugging me about?
But my brain’s quiet now. I’m going along, and there’s an ease to it. A pleasure and a peacefulness.
I walk beside Killian, his steps slow and measured so I don’t fall behind, his fingers wrapped around my arm, right above the crook of my elbow. As if I might bolt. Or I’m being arrested.
But the touch is gentle. And I know-somehow-it’s because if I trip, it’s the best way to keep me upright without hurting me.
“I’m usually pretty coordinated, you know,” I tell him as we pass B-roster’s row of cabins.
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?