The Tyrant Alpha's Rejected Mate (Five Packs #1)(34)

Then, he’d tell the females to go home and get back to work, and run the males along the pack land perimeter until they were too exhausted to mess with anyone.

At the time, I thought maybe things would change. Killian would be a new type of alpha. He stopped the beatings and got the males focused on the circuit, but that was it. Females still had to stay home and ask a male for anything they wanted. I was disappointed, but I was younger then, too. Na?ve. I thought a wolf could rise above his nature.

Eamon’s right about one thing. In a pack, at the end of the day, strength rules.

I’m so lost in my head, that it takes a second for me to realize that Killian has closed the space between us. The scent of blood and fury fill my nose.

Instinctive fear saps my strength. I let the wall hold me up, and I fight the terror. I don’t want to be afraid. I’m mad. Pissed, actually. I’m not the one in the wrong this time.

Killian’s lips peel back. His fangs have descended, but he shows no other signs of becoming the wolf. Flip-shifter weirdness.

“I control my males,” he hisses, threat lacing each word.

I need to shut up. Nod. Make this be over. But now my mouth has its own mind, too. “Was it your idea for them to trip the female with the bad leg, then?”

He snarls. “I’ll deal with it.”

“Gael dealt with it. You were busy with your dinner and a show.” I know when you’re in a hole, you’re supposed to stop digging, but I can’t stop myself from adding, “Playing Haisley Byrne’s chair.”

He slams a palm into the wall beside my head. There’s no give. The lodge is made of solid pine logs. Still, I’m thrown, but not by the display of aggression. From the heat emanating off his body and his breath on my cheek.

He smells even more like toffee. Hot toffee. Drizzling, thick, delicious toffee.

“Be careful, female. I don’t think that little wolf of yours can back up that big mouth.”

He sneers. My “little wolf” perks up. Her ears prick, and she has prancing feet. Whatever this is, she’s here for it.

I don’t know what possesses me. I swear I don’t have a death wish. Maybe Abertha took my filter when she yanked out the mate bond.

“I don’t need my little wolf,” I say. “I have your big one.”

He growls.

“Your wolf likes me.” I lick my dry lips, and plunge ahead, right over the cliff. “He saw someone touch me, and he did something about it. You’re mad because you were asleep at the wheel, and he went after the wrong guy. I own going after Haisley the other night. That was on me. But this was you.”

“You’re gonna tell me how to lead my pack?” He gets right in my face, his gaze skewering me, challenging me, daring me.

I’ve seen him do this with his males a hundred times. He forces them to look him in the eye, and then he eye-fucks them until they can’t help but lower their heads. It’s a dominance move.

I should be squirming, itching to bend my neck. But way back, I sense his wolf, calm now, attentive, and pleased as shit that I claimed him.

Killian narrows his eyes, and for all that he’s a massive dick, they’re the softest faded blue and the rings around his pupils shine like liquid gold. Someone so awful shouldn’t have such pretty eyes.

I have no urge to drop my gaze. None. The opposite. I want to keep looking.

My stomach flutters.

What did he ask me? Oh, it was meant as a rhetorical question. About telling him how to lead his pack.

But yeah, I have thoughts.

“Somebody should. You need to reign in the assholes. Unless you want to be the alpha of a pack so pathetic the males have to trip a female with a bad leg to make sure she knows her place. ‘Cause I’m such a threat to the natural order. With my killer wolf and all.”

I tense—you don’t talk to a higher-ranking wolf like this, never—but at some point, Killian’s expression has lost the aggression. He’s still pinning me with his gaze, but it’s more measuring. Considering.

He edges forward, pressing his broad chest to my folded arms. There’s nowhere to go. My back is to the wall.

But I’m not panicking. I’m—curious? My wolf is very interested. She’s right up against the border between us. Peering through the fence slats.

There’s a prod at my belly. What is that?

Oh, shit.

I know what that is. It’s his cock. He’s hard. I’m making him hard.

What’s happening?

I don’t look down. My face would literally burst into flames. I’m not—unfamiliar—with dicks. I’m not a virgin. There was a human male who used to sell glass pipes at the farmer’s market. He was friendly, and he lived in an RV. He invited me to check out his personal collection. Afterwards, I went to the lake to wash off his scent, and it was a wonderful afternoon—alone and alive and self-determined and free.

He’s in the Pacific northwest now. He has kids and a job with computers. We’re friends on social media.

And there was a visiting male from North Border who stayed with us for training. I thought I’d miss him, but I didn’t. Turns out, it was the sneaking off to the woods that was exciting, not him.

So, anyway, I know about cocks. But not cocks this size. Alpha cocks.

I gulp. My cheeks burn.

Thankfully, he shifts back a hair so I can’t feel it anymore.