The Tyrant Alpha's Rejected Mate (Five Packs #1)(19)

“Why are you smiling?” He stalks closer, but not too close. Maybe three clown feet away.

I shake my head and literally bite my tongue until my eyes water.

“Are you crying now?”

“No.”

“Have you gone mad?” My gaze flies to his. He’s serious.

He doesn’t really joke. To be honest, back in school, I always thought he was kind of dense. I had a few classes with him, and whenever the teacher asked him a question, Tye or Ivo would call out the answer.

“I’m fine.” I make my face look sincere.

I’m a hot mess, my hair is in tangles, I’m clearly wearing someone else’s clothes, and I’m doing the walk of shame smelling like herbs and blackberry juice, but in my experience, folks accept the answer they want to hear.

Killian scrubs his chest. There’s a very faint growl coming from his wolf. “So this bullshit about being my mate?”

“I—” The stab of pain surprises me. I breathe through it.

Why should I care that he thinks it’s bullshit? It is now.

He waits for an answer, frowning. Irritated.

“I made a mistake,” I say, mentally crossing my fingers.

“Yeah.” His frown deepens. He’s only two years older than I am, but he already has thin lines bracing his mouth, as well as the ones at the corners of his eyes. He looks like he’s pushing forty, not thirty. “What were you doing at Abertha’s?”

A chew on my lip. What do I say? His gaze darts to my mouth. His wolf rumbles. He swallows.

Might as well stick to the truth. “Nursing my wounds.”

He rakes his gaze down my front as if he’s trying to see through my wrinkled T-shirt and sagging hippie skirt, but in a very critical, and not at all in a lascivious way. His lip curls. He does not approve of my outfit.

Screw him. I swear he’s been wearing that same pair of jeans since before graduation.

He folds his arms and glares down his nose. “You were foolish to attack Haisley.”

“Oh, I get that now.”

“She’s got forty pounds on you, at least.”

Tonight, before I go to bed, I am going to replay that line in my head and snicker and be very disappointed in myself.

“There’s no way you could’ve won,” he adds.

“I know.”

He grunts.

My agreement seems to be pissing him off. He starts pacing. “You’ve got to compensate for weakness.”

What is happening? This feels like a lecture, but we’re alone, and the dynamic is weird. He’s dominant, the most dominant wolf I’ve ever met, including his father. My bloodlines are solidly middle pack going back generations. Nature demands that I recognize him as a threat, but I’m not scared or intimidated. Neither is my wolf. She’s—basking. There’s no other word for it. She’s just happy to be here.

I should be getting a crick in my neck from bending it. I’d hate it, but I shouldn’t be able to resist, not with an alpha this close and obviously upset. But I feel no compulsion to show my submission.

Is this because the bond is gone? Did Abertha rip out my survival instincts when it comes to him, as well?

Could I just walk into the house? Let him lecture a shut door?

It’s a heady thought—as warming as a shot of tequila. I’m not in his thrall. I could just—go inside. Make a sandwich. Take a shower.

Fate knows, I don’t want to be standing here. I’m worn out, and I stink. I’m not wearing panties, and I’m overripe downtown. There’s no way he doesn’t notice, but I guess he doesn’t care.

He’s almost ranting now.

“It’s basic self-preservation. Never leave your underbelly exposed. In this case, your—” He waves at my bad leg. “If you’ve got a gi—, uh, shit, a disabled limb, don’t go on offense. No such thing as the best defense is a good offense if your carotid is in some bitch’s teeth. Understood?”

He glowers at me. His eyes are strange. Hard. Unforgiving. But they’re also light denim blue and crinkled. And there’s a thin band of gold around his pupils. I’d never noticed the ring before the other night. It’s the color of his wolf’s eyes.

A shiver zips up my spine. I tense. Is that heat? Oh, no. Please, no. I don’t ever want to feel that again.

Killian drones on, and slowly, I relax. There are no more shivers or zips or zings. I’m warm, but I’m standing directly in the sun. I’m fine. Abertha fixed me.

“So you need to think before you do stupid shit. If folks figure you’re moon mad—well, you don’t want that. Just—buck up. Rub some dirt in it. Walk it off. Understood?”

He’s finally paused, and he wants a response.

I have no idea what he means. Rub dirt in what?

And moon mad? He knows I’m his mate. He must. Else why the speech about how much I suck? If he thought I was just nuts, he would’ve skipped to the part where Tye bounces me out the back exit.

A flicker of anger flares in my chest. For a second, it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to shove it, but I learned young to watch my mouth. Males don’t haul off and pop you anymore on a whim, but they used to, and there’s no rule about it. They could. If Killian and his crew aren’t around, the elders will still backhand you if they don’t like your tone.