The Lone Wolf's Rejected Mate (Five Packs #3)(34)

“It’s going in with the rest.”

“Why you always gotta be so stingy, Mari Fane?” Lucan smirks. He teases me all the time about being mean. He knows I’m not, I’m nice to a fault, and I fold under very little pressure. He’s not beyond exploiting those facts for food.

Overall, though, he’s harmless, especially since he got knocked down to kitchen help.

About a year ago, he was part of the coup that tried to barter Annie, Kennedy and me to the Last Pack in exchange for their help taking out Killian Kelly and installing Eamon Byrne as our alpha.

Killian relegated the conspirators to shit work until they proved themselves in a fight with one of his lieutenants. At this point, every male who sided with Byrne—and lived—has been able to win a reconciliation match and get his rank back. Except Lucan.

Part of me suspects he’s too comfortable on Z-roster, although he sucks at everything except cutting corners. I dread seeing what he did with the onions.

“You’ve got such a hard heart.” As sensitive to a female’s moods as most males, I see Lucan has decided to push it. “How come you can’t throw a dog a bone for once, eh?”

“How come you can’t work your way out of the kitchen, Lucan Hayes?” I toss back, rocking my chef’s knife back and forth, making short work of the last of the carrots. I shove the encounter with Darragh to the back of my mind where all that garbage goes and get back to my real life.

“Maybe I want to be your special meat delivery.” Lucan grins at me across the counter and cocks an eyebrow. Beside me, Annie lets out a soft, scandalized gasp.

“The vibe you’re supposed to be going for is sexually competent line cook.” I blow a curl off my sweaty forehead. It is hot in here.

That frisson of fear I can never quite shake sputters to life in my chest, but I dampen it immediately. I’m not going into heat. I just had an intense emotional encounter, which is not worth dwelling on, and Old Noreen has both ovens on, and no one’s bothered to open a window. I’m fine.

“Oh, I’m more than sexually competent,” Lucan throws back, leaning over the counter, bracing himself on his sharp elbows. “Sexually, I’m definitely above average.”

“Oh, yeah?” I scoop the carrots into a bowl and start scrubbing potatoes. It’s roasted root vegetable night.

“I’m at least in the fifty-first percentile. Sexually.” His grin widens, revealing his snaggle tooth.

“That is the most humble of brags I’ve ever heard.”

“I’m a modest dude. Think about it, Mari. You could be having reliably average sex. In a world of uncertainty, you shouldn’t dismiss that kind of offer out of hand.” He cocks his head.

Annie groans under her breath.

“I suppose I shouldn’t.” I pretend to eye him up, letting my gaze drop meaningfully from his lips to his chest to his pile of beets. I raise a dubious eyebrow. “I guess I could add you to my list for consideration.”

“That’s all a male can ask for. Due consideration.” He winks and grins wider, returning his attention to his beets, attacking them with the bread knife, sawing them into a huge, shredded mess.

Before the failed coup, Lucan was a dickhead like ninety-nine percent of Quarry Pack males, but even though he’s slightly sleazy and more trouble than help in the kitchen, he’s grown on me. He’s not going on any list, though, no matter how desperate I get.

Annie elbows me. “Want help with those?” She nods at my bowl of clean, wet potatoes.

“Thanks.” We set up our usual assembly line—I peel, and she chops.

Last summer, I caught the flu, and for a day or so, I was certain I was going into heat again. I panicked. I had fever-fueled nightmares of Darragh saying, “When you go into heat next time—tell Killian. He’ll come find me,” and I woke myself up puking.

After I got better, Kennedy and I had a serious talk. I made her swear that when I go into heat again, she’ll tie me to my bed. Or go to town and score serious drugs from a human—maybe the veterinarian—and knock my ass unconscious until it’s over.

The messed-up thing is that no one seems to know what happens if a female doesn’t give in to her heat. Males go into rut if they’re kept from their mate, but apparently, in the history of shifters, no female has ever not gotten on all fours and presented.

Abertha probably knows what happens, but I don’t talk to her if I can avoid it. She looks at me like she knows all my private business, and it makes me want to go after her face with my nails. Despite her weird, youthful vibe, she’s an elder. It’d be wrong to fight her.

My wolf hates her. Since we got rejected, my wolf has pretty much packed herself away into a corner to sleep away the days, but Abertha is one of two people that rouses her interest. My wolf doesn’t try to go after her or anything. She’s too out of it for that. She only opens her eyes a slit, bares a fang, and growls. When she does, Abertha politely ignores her, and for some reason, that pisses me off even more.

Anyway, I don’t know if she and Darragh are fuck buddies or not, and I don’t care, but I’m not asking her how to avoid a heat, and there is no way in hell I am going to just let it happen again.

So Kennedy and I brainstormed all the solutions we could think of. Tying me up. Drugs. That was basically it.

“When are you meeting him?” Annie murmurs, interrupting my thoughts.