The Tyrant Alpha's Rejected Mate (Five Packs #1)(69)

My wolf yips.

Eamon, Alfie, and Finn erupt.

“Unheard of.”

“Bad idea.”

“What the fuck?”

Killian’s smile widens, revealing wickedly sharp, extended canines. His tongue touches the tip of one as he pivots to stare at the males.

They shut their mouths.

And then he grabs my sleeve and gently, but insistently, draws the hand holding my phone out of my pocket. He wraps his fingers around the sparkly purple case. And then he waits.

He wants me to let him take it.

To trust him.

I don’t.

He could take it and stomp it and say, “Hah, hah. Joking.”

But he won’t. My wolf and I both know that.

And that’s not trust, but it’s something. Enough so that I loosen my grip.

Satisfaction flares in his eyes. They crinkle deeper at the corners. My heart skips.

He holds the screen up to me. “Type in your code.”

I do. 5338. Bees backwards.

He taps away, and then he hands it back. “Now you’ve got my number.”

I don’t know what to say. I sneak a quick peek at my contact list. It’s pretty short. He put himself in as “Killian.”

Warmth spreads through my chest, a rush, like when you’re in the bath and you turn the faucet all the way to hot when the water cools down too much. I feel seventeen. And silly. And flustered.

“The other elders will not tolerate this,” Eamon says.

Dermot snorts. “Which elders? You know they all got phones, right? Cheryl. Nuala. Tippety tap. All night long. Sneakin’ off to the kitchen. Air bombing each other.” He shakes his head. “That horse has done left the building. We closed the barn door long after he left.”

“It’s called air dropping,” Finn says.

Dermot waves him off. “It’s called progress. You can’t stop it.” Dermot rests his folded hands on his round belly.

“Well, the mated males are going to have something to say about it,” Eamon insists. He’s not letting it go. Under the sideburns, his cheeks are red. His knee jiggles.

“Good thing I’m prepared for that.” Killian smiles, and it sends a shiver down my back. It’s a warning. Eamon is treading on dangerous ground. He bends his neck ever so slightly, but his disgruntled expression doesn’t change.

My wolf snaps at him. The males startle. Eamon flashes his fangs and then snaps his lips closed, turning away. Then Dermot, Tye, and Ivo crack up.

“Better watch it, Eamon.” Tye slaps him on the back. “The alpha’s female doesn’t like you challenging her mate.”

I watch Eamon fake a smile. This isn’t a joke to him.

I remember the run-in on the path and goosebumps break out on my forearms. I hug myself and ignore the males as they go back to the spreadsheets. At one point, Ivo calls Killian over to the coffee table to show him something. At the same time, Tye bounces into the kitchen, asking if anyone else wants a beer. Alfie sidles up to Killian to peer at the papers.

I don’t realize for a moment that Eamon and Finn used the general movement to wander over to me. They aren’t close. I have no doubt that would grab Killian’s attention. But they’re near enough for me to overhear their conversation. I can’t avoid it.

“It’ll be a shame,” Eamon says, turning his head left then right, loose-jowled.

“What will?” Finn asks like he’s delivering a line. Badly.

“Females who don’t know their place. They’ll bring a strong male down, every time.”

Finn sighs. “No one to blame but themselves.”

“And when the dust settles, no one to call.” Eamon skewers me with his cold, rheumy eyes.

“You don’t need a phone when you’re on your knees in a Last Pack den,” Finn says, smirking.

Eamon smacks him upside the head and turns away as Tye comes back, announcing, “Beers!”

My blood runs cold.

Killian glances over, brows knit, but I’m sitting here alone. He frowns. He must not have noticed Eamon and Finn lingering nearby. He raises an eyebrow. I don’t know what to do, so I lower my gaze. When Ivo nudges his arm, Killian turns back at the documents.

A steadying thrum comes through the thread between us, though. Like a soothing scritch behind the ears. It’s stronger now. No more avoiding the fact that Abertha was wrong. It wasn’t forever. The bond is growing back, which is terrifying, but not the problem in front of me right now.

Should I tell Killian what Eamon and Finn said? I’m not scared of them. In a room with other packmates.

But Killian’s not always there. He wasn’t on the path that day. And he can’t be everywhere at once. Right now, Kennedy, Mari, and Annie are alone at the cabin. And who’s been tasked to watch the place? Lochlan? A B-roster male who wouldn’t bat an eye if Lochlan told him to scram?

Right now, it’s just words. Males who got taken down a peg, blowing off steam, asserting dominance so they aren’t the lowest on the ladder.

If I told Killian, though, it’d become a challenge. He has too much pride for it not to be. Killian would win against either Eamon or Finn, of course, and I’d have an even bigger target on my back with the Byrnes and their backers.

And Killian is all about me today, but when was the last time he declared I wasn’t his mate? Last night?