The Tyrant Alpha's Rejected Mate (Five Packs #1)(14)

Abertha’s brows fly up. “What kind of bullshit is that?”

A sad, tired chuckle escapes my lips. “Typical. It’s typical Quarry Pack bullshit.”

“Well, he’s gonna rue the day.” Abertha snickers. “I can’t lie, I would have paid to see this play out. Might have to move some things around on my calendar.” Her voice fades, her gray eyes going vague as she stares over my shoulder.

Another spasm racks my body, and I moan, hunching into a ball.

“Hurts like a son-of-a-bitch, doesn’t it?” She scoots closer, her voice gentle. She smells like the things I love—the garden, the beehives, herbs, bubbling jam.

I whimper. “Can you make it stop?”

“I can get Killian. Make him come.”

My wolf howls, drowning out my words. She wants that so badly. She needs him.

We need him.

He can make it stop hurting. He’s ours. Our fated mate is our right. It’s wrong that he’s not here, his scent not even on the wind. My wolf loses faith, keening in grief again. Dead. Our mate. Dead.

What do I do?

I can’t bear this much longer. I’m going to drag myself to him. Beg. The heat is incessant, burning hotter and hotter, like a wildfire racing through a dry forest, spitting and crackling as it encroaches. The smoke fills my lungs and stings my eyes, but I’m not engulfed in flames. Not yet. But soon. Very soon.

I’m going to abase myself in front of that arrogant asshole, crawl to him, and plead for his cock. I won’t care who’s watching. I can feel the point where I lose control rushing toward me.

I wretch, but there’s nothing but acid in my gut.

This isn’t rock bottom. There’s lower I can go. And I won’t. I’m not nothing.

I provide for my girls. I protect them. I’ve made us strong and self-sufficient. I am not begging a male to mount me. Never.

“Knock me out.”

Abertha shakes her head. “The heat will still be there when you wake up.”

“Please.” My voice is weak. “Help me.”

“I can’t. This is fate.”

“Please.” I put everything that’s left of my self into the word.

She lets out a long, gusty sigh and stares up at the passing clouds. “I shouldn’t—”

She thinks for a long time, gray eyes reflecting the waning sunshine, and then she lifts a shoulder, suddenly at ease, as if she’s come to some accord with herself.

“Well, in for a penny, in for a pound,” she says. It makes no sense.

She stretches her arms high above her head like she’s warming up in gym class.

“This is going to feel a little like three wishes.” She cracks her neck, twisting to one side and then the other. “And maybe a little like that sea witch from the Little Mermaid.”

“What are you talking about?” Abertha isn’t always the clearest. She’s mystical, and she smokes a lot of weed.

She gets on her knees in front of me, hovering her palms above my body, sensing my aura like she does when I’m sick.

“I can, for lack of a better term, yank the bond out.”

“Do it.” I’d do anything to make this all stop.

My wolf is pushing at my skin. She demands that we run to him, find him. If he’s dead, avenge him. If he’s living, present, thrust our pussy in the air, ass up, face down, and beg him to mount us. The picture is starkly vivid in my mind. It makes me want to puke again.

Our weakness is the only thing that’s stopping her from running to him. We don’t have enough strength left to shift.

It’s horrible—the pain, the humiliation, the heat, the rejection, all twisted and jumbled. I’m so close to losing control.

“Do it now.”

She chews her cheek, considering. “It can’t be undone.”

“Good.”

“If I yank it out, you won’t be able to use the bond to bring him around.”

“I don’t want him.” My wolf howls her dissent. “I don’t.”

“You can only have young with your fated mate. No mate, no young.”

I didn’t think I ever would. I’d come to terms with it. But—another pain slices through me, sharp and deep. A loss, a terrible longing. Despair.

Abertha seems to note my hesitation. “There might be—side effects.”

“I don’t care.” Another spasm racks me and my womb cramps, knotting my guts, stealing my breath. Nothing is worse than this. Nothing.

“I can’t really predict what might happen.”

“Please.” Tears stream down my cheeks.

“The Fates have a tendency of getting their way in the end.”

“Abertha, you said you could help.”

“No young,” she says again.

I wail. I’m past being able to argue. I can only beg. “Please.”

She blows on her palms and rubs them together. “This might hurt.”

I’d laugh if I could.

She places her right hand against my upper chest, splaying her fingers. She closes her eyes, balancing her weight and inhaling through her nose.

“I’ve never actually done this before—” Her other hand hovers above my heart, fingers twitching. “I’m not sure that—” She closes her eyes and sways. “Got it!” She clenches her fist and yanks her arm back, flinging it behind her.