The Tyrant Alpha's Rejected Mate (Five Packs #1)(49)

“Yeah? Maybe so, but I’ve done all right so far.” I abandon the tea and lean back.

“Have you?” The crone sinks back in her chair, mimicking my posture. “Is everything right?”

What kind of philosophical bullshit is that?

“Listen, I came with a question. Are you gonna answer it? Is Una Hayes my mate?”

“You honestly can’t tell.” Her brow creases. There’s pity in her gray eyes. “Yes. She was.”

Every muscle tightens, and I push back, the chair screeching on the hard wood. “What do you mean—was?”

“Sounds like she told you. I pulled the mate bond out of her.”

I bound to my feet. “You what?”

My wolf is choking my voice. The words come out a garbled growl.

The crone doesn’t move. My rage fills the room, clogs my own nose, but she’s unaffected. She takes a slow sip of her tea.

“You knew this. She told you she was your mate. You rejected her. She told you I fixed it. You must have found her nest in the woods. I can scent traces of her heat on you. You know all of this. But you’re deaf to it. Because you are getting in your own way.”

My clenched fists shake. Fur has sprouted up my spine, and my bones are stretching, my muscles swelling.

“Your wolf recognizes his mate,” she says.

“I am my wolf.”

The crone tuts. “Don’t start lying to yourself now, Alpha. Your wolf and you are like that mutt Eamon lets his mate keep in the backyard. You coexist.”

“Why didn’t I feel the bond when she shifted?”

“Do you let yourself feel anything?”

I do. Every nerve in my body is screaming. I have to wade through the thoughts whirling in my brain.

“You pulled the mate bond out of her?” I spit the question through elongated fangs.

“What would you have had me do? You scented her nest. She was in pain.”

“You had no right.”

She laughs, and it is bitter. “Don’t talk to me of rights. Una claimed you, and did you stop for a second to consider someone else knew a truth you didn’t? You’ve grown arrogant, Alpha. You think you can’t move this pack forward because they’re too stubborn, but pup, you need to attend to the mote in your own eye.”

“I didn’t come for a lecture.”

“You came for me to tell you what Una already did. Why take my word over hers?”

My back teeth clench so hard they ache. “You do not have the right to take my mate from me.”

“You have no claim over something you so carelessly threw away.”

“Put the bond back.” I instill each word with alpha command.

“I don’t know how.”

My wolf howls, shaking the rafters, making himself known.

The crone narrows her eyes. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t do it.”

“Put it back!” I slam the table. The tea cups rattle, and a crack appears in the solid wood.

“I can’t, but I’ll make you an offer.” Her lips curl. “I’ll take the bond out of you, too.”

My hand flies to my chest. It feels no different. There’s no pulse, no burning fire like the mated males describe. There’s—silence.

“I assure you, it’s there.” The crone calmly sips her tea. “You can’t feel the blood coursing in your veins, either, but it’s there all the same.”

“No.” The suggestion itself has my claws drawn.

“The bond can only bring you misery. Una doesn’t want you now. And you won’t force her.”

Rage surges through me, and the crone is wrong. I can feel my blood—it’s burning. “I am not my father.”

“No, you’re not. So since you don’t want her, let her go. Let her be happy with someone else.”

“Who?” It’s a snarl.

She waves her hand. “Relax. I’m talking theoretically.”

“You’re playing Fate.”

“And you don’t, Alpha?”

We are silent a moment, glaring at each other as I force my wolf down, compel the rage to abate. The crone is a canny adversary. You don’t go into the ring in a temper.

“There’s no way to reverse what you have done?”

She crosses her legs and smooths her slacks. “I didn’t say that. I said I didn’t know how.”

“You have cost me my young, witch.”

“You cost yourself. It’s your head that’s stuck up your ass.” My wolf rumbles, and she hurries to add, “And we don’t know that for sure. You could always, I don’t know, woo her. The moon works in mysterious ways.”

“Woo her?”

“You know. Dates. Flowers.”

“That’s human shit.”

She shrugs. “They do it at Moon Lake.”

I slowly exhale. “You have done me a grave disservice.”

“Maybe,” she says. “Or maybe I’ve done you a great favor. Go back to camp. Train your fighters. Let a female lure you to her bed. Nothing has to change.”

It’s the first lie she’s told me.

I glance out the window at the packed car. “You’re leaving?”