The Tyrant Alpha's Rejected Mate (Five Packs #1)(61)

Rowan and Tierney strut past, and they bend their heads close, whisper and laugh, and glance in her direction. She doesn’t blink. Her back is straight, and her chin is up.

She’s a tough female. It’s a quiet strength. Not showy in the slightest. She’s the kind of fighter that makes a killing on the circuit. Everyone bets against the standoffish, silent guy, and then he’s always the one to come back with the KO in the fifth round.

Shy does not exclude fierce.

After I check in with our patrols—no news from the northeast quadrant—I call Ivo and tell him to post a male at the access road exit onto the highway. No one in or out. Then, I call Cheryl to get a crew over to do a deep clean. Replace the rugs and the sofa. I don’t take females to my bed, but I figure a new mattress and linens won’t hurt either.

Then, I check in with Tye. He’s pissed that I disappeared. I’m supposed to be meeting with the lieutenants to finalize the plans for Cadoc Collins’ training. The alpha of Moon Lake Pack is sending his heir to us for a few months to “hone his skills.” It’s gonna take almost the whole time to unteach him what he’s already learned. Moon Lake pack fights like bitches.

It’ll give me and Una a place to go, though, while Cheryl works her magic. I’ll take her by her old cabin first to get something to cover her legs, and then we’ll go to Tye’s.

I want to throw her on my bed, and fuck the salty out of her, but I’m gonna have to be patient. She’ll come to me in her own time.

Meanwhile, I satisfy myself by watching her out of the front window as she touches my bite mark with her fingertips.





Walking to Tye’s, it’s like I’m driving straight down a goddamn rumble strip. My chest is numb from my wolf’s constant growl. He doesn’t like males anywhere near Una, and of course, like always, a half dozen folks crawl out of the woodwork as I pass through the commons. Everyone wants something.

I cut each one off before they have the chance to get started, but they all come too close. And apparently, too close is within five feet of Una. Then ten and then twenty. By the time we get to the path to her cabin, word has spread, and packmates are gathering in clusters, gossiping. But at least they’re keeping their damn distance.

I’ve never felt this before. The growling rubs my nerves raw. My fangs have descended with no sign of retracting. Makes my mouth fill with spit. And then I get hungry.

Shit.

Does Una need to eat?

It’s not dinner time yet, but she must’ve missed lunch with her little escapade into town.

She can miss a meal. It’s not gonna kill her.

But now my wolf’s grumbling about that, and truth be told, I’m uneasy about it, too.

Una needs to be fed. She’s sturdy, but how long would that padding last in a survival situation? Not even a couple weeks.

I don’t know why it’s of essential importance to my wolf and I that Una be able to live through a hard winter right now, in this very moment, but it’s at the top of my brain. She also needs to learn to fight. And how to shoot since fighting is probably hopeless with a wolf as small as hers. And a healer needs to see that leg. I can’t believe that’s as good as it can get.

Everything’s fucking rearranging itself in the natural order—with Una crowding out every other concern—and it’s disorienting as hell.

I think about the pack, twenty-four seven. The circuit. Which males need their asses kicked? Who’s ready to move up? I think about threats and security and the goddamn utility bill way more than I want to, that’s for sure.

And then there’s pack politics. What’s Moon Lake doing? How close to anarchy is the Last Pack today? When is Lochlan Byrne gonna make his move? Would it make life simpler in the long run to kick the shit out of Eamon and those other old timers who are filling his head with dreams of a position he cannot possibly take? How wrong is it to give an elder a beatdown if it keeps the peace?

Except for in the gym, that’s what goes through my head, an incessant whirl, mostly questions I can’t answer and shit I don’t know.

Not now. That’s background noise. Una is the center.

Her wonky shuffle. Her swinging braid. Her downcast brown eyes.

She slows as she climbs the path to her cabin. Why did I never consider that I put the female with the bad leg halfway up the steepest hill in camp?

She won’t accept help. I go to grab her elbow, but she tucks it to her side.

And how did I ever think she was plain? Her face is calm, like the surface of the quarry lake on a windless day, but it speaks volumes. And it’s beautiful. Her lips have the sweetest divot at the top, her nose tilts just at the end, giving her a snooty air that’s cute as hell. And she has honest eyes.

Everyone in the world wants something from me. Approval. Status. Protection.

And they’re trying to hide shit, too. Failings. Weakness. Ambition.

Not Una Hayes. She would like me to fuck myself, and she makes no effort to conceal the fact. It’d be adorable if I knew without a doubt that this shit ends with us mated like Fate intended.

I need to put babies in that curved belly.

I need her to smile at me.

I need not to have fucked up the best thing that’s ever happened in my life before it even happened.

I had accepted that I would always be alone. But acceptance is a stage of grief, isn’t it? It’s not joy. It’s not right. A part of me knew this was out here, waiting. That’s why I never got too close to another female.