The Tyrant Alpha's Rejected Mate (Five Packs #1)(20)

So I grit my teeth.

“Do you understand?” he repeats, taking a step closer until his shadow falls on my face. My bonkers wolf gets excited. Like joyful excited.

I’m supposed to say yes. If I’m really cowed, I’m supposed to throw in a yes, Alpha.

I don’t want to.

He already won. I got smacked down, and I’m not claiming him as my mate anymore. But he needs a pound of flesh, too? Total submission?

My skin tingles, and hidden in the folds of my skirt, I ball my fists.

I hate him.

I hate that he gets whatever he wants, and does whatever he wants, and everyone shows him their neck and kisses his ass, and he still needs to stand here in front of my home and call me crazy and stupid.

I was alone in a thicket—my eyes burn. Nope. Not gonna go back there. Not with him so close that I can smell him. It’s such a sweet scent, but nothing special. Nothing I can’t get in a candle or scented dryer sheet.

I am fine now. Heat was a bad fever dream.

“Una.” He grabs my chin and forces me to meet his eyes. “What’s wrong with you?”

I try to jerk from his grasp, but his fingers dig in. I let out the smallest whimper. Almost a hiccup. Out of nowhere, a growl explodes from his chest. Really loud. So loud there’s movement in the cabin and a curtain flutters. Probably Mari and Annie. I bet they’ve been eavesdropping this whole time.

Killian drops his hand to his side.

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask, rubbing my face. It doesn’t hurt at all, but it’s the principle. Dick.

He seems—thrown. Like the growl took him by surprise, too.

“Can I go now?” I ask.

“No. Stay.” He raises his hand, slow and tentative, his forehead furrowed. He stares at me. My nerves sizzle. Then, with the lightest touch, he traces my jawline. Two rough fingers graze my cheek, his thumb caressing my neck. Shivers and tingles race through me, straightening my spine, seizing my lungs, curling my toes.

My wolf purrs, low and languid, and rolls onto her back, exposing her belly.

The little fool.

He stares at my lips. I nibble the bottom one. It’s instinct.

He stiffens. A vein pulses at his temple. His wolf’s rumble kicks up until it sounds like an engine.

Killian gently tilts my head from side to side.

“I didn’t hurt you,” he murmurs.

That’s such a lie. For so many reasons.

“Alpha!” A voice booms from the head of the path. Eamon, Lochlan, and Finn. The three douche-kateers. I step back, but Killian’s already dropped his hand and turned toward them.

He holds up a finger. “Gimme one.”

Then he rounds back to me, face hardened. Cold.

He grabs my chin again. “Don’t leave the commons.”

“What? Why—”

“You don’t ask questions. You say, “Yes, Alpha.”

He raises an eyebrow and waits.

He can wait all freakin’ day. Dick.

I stare at the dirt path.

The males whisper amongst themselves.

Finally, Lochlan calls, “Alpha, you want us to go on ahead?”

Killian lets go of my face with a very slight shove.

“You attacked a packmate without provocation.” He steps back, squaring his shoulders. “You’re probably halfway to moon mad. You stay in the commons until I tell you that you can leave.”

I’m grounded. Like a pup.

White-hot fury fills me as he strides off without a backwards glance. The males greet him like they didn’t just see him yesterday, slapping his back, falling in behind him. I eat the rage. You have to if you want to live in Quarry Pack. If you let yourself really feel the injustices, your day is ruined, and I’ve got things to do. A mushroom deal to confirm.

Behind me, the door creaks open.

“Una? Are you okay?” Mari whispers, even though they’ve already disappeared down the path.

“I’m fine,” I lie as I seize the banister and mount the first stair, hauling my bum leg up after.

“Do you need help?”

“I’ve got it.” Stairs take me a second, but I can do them no problem. It’s steep declines that suck.

When I get inside, all my roommates are huddled on the sofa. They’ve been snooping.

“What did the alpha want?” Kennedy asks.

“Are you exiled?” Annie worries the hem of her shirt.

“Why would I be exiled?”

“For attacking Haisley.”

“There is literally a fight every night during dinner.” Killian usually picks the competitors, but brawls break out often enough that my point holds.

“But you claimed him as your—” Annie glances around the rooms as if someone might overhear. “Mate.”

“Yeah.”

All three females are staring at me, Mari’s blue eyes swimming with concern, Annie trembling, Kennedy’s arms crossed, cranky as always. Kennedy is twenty-three, but she never grew out of the phase where she thinks everything and everyone is bullshit—always—in every way. If I had to pick, she’s my favorite.

My young roomies want an explanation.

I sigh.

I flop down in the armchair. “I made a mistake, okay?”

“So he’s not your mate?” Mari asks.