The Lone Wolf's Rejected Mate (Five Packs #3)(16)

It’s an awful feeling. I shake in my boots as my brain races. This has to end before I start blubbering in clear sight of every nosy packmate in camp. We’ve been standing here long enough that someone’s sure to have alerted Haisley and her crew, and I know they’re lurking somewhere, getting an eyeful so they can throw it in my face later. That’s how they keep their status, grinding the rest of us down.

“I won’t do it again.” It flies from my mouth in a burst of courage born of pure misery, and yet, I sound like a squeaking mouse.

Killian raises both eyebrows. Darragh scowls into the distance over my head.

“I won’t leave camp again. I swear. Just let me go home. I was just—” Shit. I’m talking too much. I shut my mouth, but Killian tilts his head.

“Just what? Go on,” he says like a dare. I think he’s kind of enjoying this. I’m living through one of the worst moments of my life, and he’s amused.

I hang my whole head. Please, can’t this be over? “Nothing, Alpha. I won’t do it again.”

There’s a moment of silence. I assume Darragh and Killian are exchanging meaningful glances. Then Killian barks, “Ivo!”

Footsteps sound on the porch.

“Take Mari here back to the lone females’ cabin,” he orders.

Darragh’s wolf starts a fresh racket while Ivo blithely trots down the steps. He stinks, too. I can’t help but scrunch my face. He smells like dirty dishwater left overnight.

“Come on,” Ivo says to me, and with my heart flooding with relief, I don’t even notice him take my forearm until his grip is ripped away in a whirl of flying male, unsheathing claws, and flashing fangs. There is a moment when I can’t tell Ivo, Killian, and Darragh apart—they’re a heaving mass of swinging limbs and gnashing teeth.

I fall into a low squat, wrap my arms tight around my shaking body, tuck my face to my chest, and pray that the fight doesn’t bowl into me.

For some reason, Killian doesn’t flipshift into his beast, and I’m grateful. My wolf and I are terrified of it.

I don’t see the resolution, I just come to realize after a few seconds that even though three muffled wolves are still vocalizing, the thuds of flesh impacting flesh—and the crack of bone—has stopped. The males are panting. The foul scents of dishwater and pond scum waft over to where I’m huddling in a ball. I peek up.

The three have separated and are bent over, catching their breath. There’s blood. The collar of Ivo’s T-shirt is torn and hanging by a thread.

“One day, man, I’m gonna convince you to go on the circuit,” Killian says to Darragh, straightening and slapping him on the back. “You better take her to her cabin.”

Killian hooks his arm around Ivo’s neck and tries to poke him in his blackening eye as Ivo ducks his head and snaps his teeth.

“Your worries are unfounded, man,” Killian says over his shoulder to Darragh. “You kicked Ivo’s ass without shifting, didn’t you?” He cracks himself up. Ivo is not amused, but he follows Killian back up the steps to his cabin.

“And impress upon the female that she needs to follow the rules?” Killian chuckles as he strides unworried through his cabin door, leaving Darragh and me alone in the path.

Well, alone except for all the old dams with their noses poking out from behind their curtains. I rise to my wobbly feet and smooth my shredded skirt. It feels good to be able to straighten my neck, but it’s also weird. My wolf and I are both very aware now that Darragh is an alpha, but it’s like he’s not our alpha. The instinct to display deference isn’t there, not like it is with Killian.

I don’t know, it’s confusing, and I’ve had enough. I’m feeling hot and thirsty again, so when Darragh grunts “come on” and leads the way up toward home, I fall in behind him. I even hang back a good length so he doesn’t have to power walk, but now, for some reason, he’s matching his pace to mine. He’s careful to leave enough space between us, though, so he’s walking in the grass instead of beside me on the path.

I feel as bad as Killian and Ivo smell. I don’t have any courage or energy left. I’m just going to trudge home, keep my mouth shut, and think about showers and cold baths and ice water.

I don’t expect Darragh to speak to me again after ratting me out, so I’m surprised when we clear the commons, and he says, “Don’t leave camp again.”

I nod. I mean, I’m not going to do what he says. I live for market day in Chapel Bell. But I’m not going looking for him again. Lesson learned. Message received.

I figure we’re good, but a few yards further on, he clears his throat and says, “You didn’t have enough water.”

Yeah, I realize that.

“That bottle only holds, what, twenty-one ounces? You need forty.”

I got this bottle because it came in a cute lavender color. I wasn’t thinking about backcountry hiking.

He seems to expect a response, but I am not in the mood to “yes, sir” him. He can’t act like an elder with me. He might not want to accept it, but he’s my mate. A part of him is flowing into my chest right now. I might not be able to read it clearly, but it’s undeniably there.

We walk a few more yards, and he huffs a sigh, actually looks over at me, and says, “There are animals out there.”