The Tyrant Alpha's Rejected Mate (Five Packs #1)(23)

Una is frozen in place, wearing a pale-yellow blouse, rolled up past her elbows, and a long jean skirt. There’s something balled in her left fist. Her brown hair shines, wisps framing her face. She’s tied it back in her usual braid.

My wolf pads closer to her very slowly. Almost cautiously. She tenses. My wolf stops, sits, and—whines.

My wolf never whines. He’s a huge silver beast with pure white markings, bigger than a dire wolf. We fear nothing and no one. We’re unbeaten in battle. Sought by all females. Alpha.

What witchcraft is this?

My wolf stares at Una. Una stares at us.

He strides forward. One pace. Another. Like he’s trying to be casual. Annie scuttles backward, whimpering.

Una cocks her head slightly to the left. My wolf pauses, patient, watchful. He wants her wolf to come out. Badly. He’s frustrated, but he’s being very careful not to let on.

For the first time that I can remember, he is not me at all. I want to force her down to her knees, snatch that braid and tilt her neck until I can see the vein throb in her exposed neck. Make her submit.

She’s mad, and she’s gonna get herself hurt. You don’t bait a monster like mine. He has mauled males for less provocation than this. It’s not in his nature to ignore a challenge.

But he’s not giving up the skin. And for some reason, he’s not responding to her defiance with aggression.

I don’t get it. And I don’t understand why he’s so keen to see her wolf. It was painfully small and scrawny with a gnarled hind leg. The thing looked underfed.

And how can she resist shifting at our command? Only another alpha can defy our compulsion.

This can’t be a mate thing. I don’t feel a bond. I’d know if we were connected in that way.

My wolf rumbles low in his chest, a sound used to soothe the newly born. Una stands, all false bravado. Her knees knock, swaying her skirt. I can smell her fear. Neither my wolf nor I like it. It burns our nose.

My wolf pads toward her, closer, closer, until there’s no more than an inch separating us. He lowers to his haunches, almost to eye level. Una’s pupils are huge, eating up her irises. What color are they?

I try to recall, but all I can picture is her gazing down or scurrying away, like all the lone females. And then a memory—an old one—pops up from nowhere. Brown. They’re a dark, hickory brown.

Without warning, my wolf darts forward and buries his nose in her hand, snuffling and slurping.

She yelps. Her fear spikes, and then it retreats, disappearing with her abrupt laugh. My wolf is smug with satisfaction.

She snatches her palm away and wipes it on her thigh. “That’s so gross. Your nose is wet.”

He nudges her again, nuzzling her hip, trying to reach the hand she’s now tucking behind her back. I understand why. She smells delicious. It’s subtle. I couldn’t pick it up a foot or two away, but this close, it’s fucking amazing. Delicate and earthy. Like vines and shade and pussy.

And her taste? So good. Unbelievably good.

My wolf butts his snout into her again.

She sighs and peers into our eyes, brow furrowed. I don’t know what she sees, but her demeanor changes. She relaxes.

“You aren’t him, are you?” she says. She stares a moment longer. “No. You definitely aren’t.”

My wolf whines. She actually smiles, and then she tentatively offers me her palm. I dive in, licking, covering her in my scent. She tastes—homey. A hint of salt and warm, light things. Bread straight from the oven. Melting butter.

Now he’s whining and nuzzling like a pup until she gives in and scratches behind his ears. I haven’t asked for this since my mother was alive. I’d forgotten how it feels.

My body goes boneless. I flop on the ground at her feet. She laughs softly. It’s a pretty sound. Tentative and delicate.

Behind us, Annie perks her ears, curious.

My wolf growls, but it’s playful. He nips at the hem of Una’s skirt.

“You’re as bossy as he is,” Una says, awkwardly lowering herself to the ground so she doesn’t have to bend. “And you’re big, too.”

My wolf scoots himself forward with his rear legs until he’s draped across her thigh. I tense, preparing to fight him for our skin.

Is he laying on the jacked up one? Does it hurt her?

No. He’s flopped on her good leg.

“What are you doin’, big guy?” she murmurs. He kneads her belly lazily with his front paw.

A short giggle escapes her lips. “Hey. That tickles.” She grabs the paw and puts it back.

My wolf wriggles higher on her lap and sticks his snout under her arm.

A peal of laughter rings out. “You did that on purpose!”

She shoves him back, her fingers slipping into his thick fur. “Oh. Wow. You’re so soft.”

I’m not. If I were in human form, my cock would be hard as a rock. As it is—I try not to think about it.

She plunges her fingers deeper into my pelt and scritches. My wolf’s tongue lolls, and he stops messing around, resting his muzzle on her upper thigh so he can sniff her pussy. He’s so damn happy.

I’ve never really felt his feelings before. We’re usually on the same page. Irritated. Aggressive. Excited. Horny. Somehow, he’s developed a mind of his own. Preferences.

I like big hair, big tits, a little effort. High heels and shit. I’m not into, like, homesteader chicks. But my wolf digs this female.