The Tyrant Alpha's Rejected Mate (Five Packs #1)(21)

I shrug. I don’t want to lie to them. Not if I don’t have to.

“You can’t reject your mate,” Annie says.

“I guess you can.”

Annie’s face contorts in horror. A lot of her anxiety manifests around the mate thing. She’s terrified that she’ll never find him, or she’ll mate with a male thirty years younger or something.

I used to be tormented by the same late-night thoughts. Maybe my mate died as a pup. Maybe he’s a male from the Last Pack, and I’ll never meet him because he’s living in a den somewhere as a wolf twenty-four seven. Maybe Fate miscounted and had one female left over when she paired everyone up.

Maybe there’s something wrong with me that makes me fundamentally unlovable.

There’s so much to be afraid of that’s totally beyond your control. But I was lucky. I discovered the farmer’s market. There’s no time to worry about males when you need to harvest enough honey to fill the orders for the Pumpkin Festival.

That’s not going to be much comfort to Annie. She’s got to find her own farmer’s market, so to speak.

For now, her fear of dying alone is stinking up the place.

“Your mate isn’t going to reject you.” I muster the most reassuring smile I can.

We all know there’s no way of knowing, but—shifters are superstitious. Say it and it will be so. And I’m older. Strange as it is, they look up to me.

“Oh, Una. I’m so sorry.” Mari’s lip wobbles.

“I’m not. Who wants to be mated to Killian Kelly?”

Kennedy shudders. “I’m not sure if he smells like the gym, or if the gym smells like him.”

“He yells a lot,” Annie adds.

“And all the females always talk about his dick.” Mari wrinkles her nose, disapproving.

My wolf snarls. She can pipe down. It’s the truth. Killian’s a manwhore. It’s nothing to us.

“I heard his wolf had his first kill when he was only nine years old,” Mari says.

“That’s impossible.” Males don’t shift until puberty, just like females. I didn’t appreciate until now how much physical stamina it takes to move from one form to the other. There’s no way a pup could do it.

“Killian Kelly can flip-shift,” Mari argues. “And that’s impossible.”

It should be. Your brain can’t even process what it’s seeing when he does it. He’ll be fighting, and one instant he’s a man, the next a wolf, and then a man again. All the while, he’s striking, kicking, leaping. Common wisdom holds that the wolf is always stronger, but a man can swing and throw and strangle. Handle a knife. Shoot a gun.

When Killian flip-shifts, he’s supernatural.

That used to frighten me when I was little. Then it only made me nervous. Wary. But something’s changed. I’m not intimidated anymore. At least not now that he isn’t right in front of me.

I guess Abertha plucked out my fear with the bond.

It feels good. Liberating.

“That’s enough about Killian Kelly,” I declare. “We need to talk mushrooms.”

Mari groans. Kennedy reaches for her video game controller.

I raise my shoulder and look at Annie. She shrugs in return.

I’m not fearless enough that I’m going to ignore an alpha command, and I’m grounded, so Annie’s going to have to make the delivery after all. This rejected mate debacle is not costing me three hundred bucks in addition to all my dignity. Not this week.





4





KILLIAN





I feel cooped up all morning. The gym is stuffy. Reeks of socks and jocks.

I take B-roster down to the ravine to train on a downed oak laying across a dried-up creek bed. Put them through their paces. It’s always fun to watch males who think they’re badass eat dirt ‘cause they can’t find their center.

Conor and Gael are coming along, but Fallon might be better suited to the maintenance crew. It’s a shame. The kid has heart. No fuckin’ balance, though.

Una gets along well, considering how jacked up her gait is. I was never clear on how her leg got mangled. Thomas Fane was involved somehow right before my father put him down.

She could probably improve function with consistent training. I’d start with heel and toe raises, lifts and crunches. Put her on a treadmill. Maybe some yoga. Jimmy’s been doing that to maintain flexibility as he bulks up. He’s had some decent results.

Other than the leg, her musculature is decent. She’s got a female’s round hips and soft belly—you don’t wanna mess with that—but there’s definition in her arms. Her posture’s good. And she’s got those sweet tits.

I don’t remember them being so ripe. Earlier, she was wearing a white T-shirt that clung to the slopes of her breasts. It was so thin you could see her fat, dark areolas. Big as half dollars.

My mouth waters. Up on the log, Fallon teeters. Conor gives me a side eye. Did I growl again?

My wolf’s antsy. I already let him run along the river for a few miles, but he’s still making himself known. He knows he can help himself, but he’s not interested in food or a fight to work off some energy.

This is Una’s fault. She’s disturbed the force. She seems so innocent. Stays in the kitchen, keeps her head down. So why’s she so thick with the crone? Haisley and her crew wouldn’t be caught dead up at the cottage. They ward against the evil eye when they so much as hear Abertha’s name.