The Lone Wolf's Rejected Mate (Five Packs #3)(25)

He sure didn’t bite me. He didn’t even kiss me. Is that what Haisley meant when she said he fucks like an animal? Like how an animal mounts a female and then kind of wanders off when he’s done to get something to eat?

This was supposed to be the beginning. How did it go wrong? What did I do?

My eyes burn. I’m going to cry. No, correction, I already am crying. A hot tear dribbles down my cheek. Darragh bares his teeth at me, and I’m not sure if it’s disgust or contempt or impatience, but it’s bad, and it hurts.

“You’re fine,” he tells me. “Cheryl says you can stay here tonight.”

I scrub the tears away, and now they’re hot and wet on my wrist. “Cheryl?”

“She got the place ready. Bought the sheets and stuff. She said she’ll clean up, so uh—just—" He stares over my head, I guess to avoid the secondhand embarrassment of watching me try to dash away the tears rolling down my face and dripping off my chin. “Just when you go into heat next time—tell Killian. He’ll come find me. Okay?” He waits, teeth clenched, expectant, like I’m supposed to say something.

Am I supposed to say okay?

It’s not okay. This isn’t right. You don’t just reject a mate for no reason. You don’t just nail and bail your fated fucking mate.

“Why?” The word is torn from my throat, jagged and raw, and I sound so damn young. So stupid.

He stares harder at the wall. “It’s not you. It’s just— You’re so— It won’t—” He kind of waves at me like that’s an explanation. What am I? What’s wrong with me?

He sighs and screws his eyes shut like I’m giving him a headache.

“It won’t work,” he says, opening his eyes to meet my gaze head on, so he can be sure that I see the cold determination in them, so I have no doubt that he means what he says. “We’re not going to be mates. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is. The key is on the kitchen table. Cheryl said for you to drop it off to her when you’re done.”

And then, like it’s the easiest thing in the world, as if he’s put in his time and he’s finally able to escape, he turns on his heel and walks out. Just like that. Just like I’m nothing at all.





4





MARI





I shiver in my nest, clutching a navy comforter with white anchors to my chest, my back itching as his cum dries.

The cabin is so quiet. The only sound is my own shallow breathing.

I can’t tell whether I’m hot or cold. Can you be both at the same time?

It’s like gravity glitched, and my blood dropped to my feet, but my poor heart’s still trying to pump, and it’s sputtering like a fish on dry ground.

I’ve been here before.

This isn’t my first time in a silent, empty cabin, my heart broken in pieces and scattered as I bleed out alone. I was a pup then, but it’s carved so deep in my mind, it’s not even a memory. Whenever I think about it, it’s always the present, always the moment I just lived through.

I didn’t know where to go that night, either. My mother was dead—she’d leapt off the bluff—and the grown-ups, in the chaos of the moment, hadn’t realized that no one had taken charge of me.

The pack males were searching the river for her body, the dams herding their own pups back to their beds. The young females assigned to watch us little ones during the run were busy whispering in horror to each other. I didn’t know where to go, so I went home. I crawled into my own bed and waited for someone to come and tell me what to do. And all night long, no one came.

I’m not a pup anymore. Now is not then. This is different, even if it doesn’t feel that way.

My wolf whines in distress, hyperalert and aware that something’s gone terribly wrong. She doesn’t understand, and she’s afraid. Our mate is gone, and it doesn’t make sense to her, not unless there was danger. I guess despite what the pack calls us, we’ve never felt unprotected before.

That’s how we feel now, though, my wolf and me.

Like we’re easy prey. Defenseless. And there are dangers—threats we foolishly ignored before—and they’re everywhere, lurking. Ferals. Moon mad wolves. Kidnappers from the Last Pack.

My adrenaline surges. Suddenly frantic, I root around the blankets for my clothes. I find my tank top and tug it on, but I can’t find my skirt or blouse, so I fish out a sheet that isn’t obviously soiled with fluids and wrap it around myself like a toga. I don’t waste time looking for my shoes.

We need to get to safety. My wolf shivers in a dark corner, but that’s okay, I’m going to take care of us.

I race barefooted out of the cabin, avoiding the path and Darragh’s scent trail that leads straight out of camp for the foothills. I take a circuitous route, cut behind the commissary and along the lawn where my drunk father punted my baby basket like a football because I was nothing to him, too.

Although the lights are out, I hurry past the lodge and stumble my way through the thick woods behind it until I reach the ridge that leads to the lone female cabin. Pricker bushes bite at my soles and ankles, but I don’t let it slow me down. When I get home, I let myself in as quietly as I can manage and force my breath to calm.

The cabin is dark except for the glow of the TV screen. Kennedy jumps to her feet, dropping the controller to the coffee table with a clatter. No one else is up. Finally, I catch a break. Like I’d been waiting to be home safe, I burst into instant hot tears again.