The Tyrant Alpha's Rejected Mate (Five Packs #1)(85)

I stalk the bond and listen as she scurries to the bathroom and then rummages around in the bedroom. She’s probably looking for fresh panties. I ruined the pair she’d been wearing for good with my fangs, but she’d made a nice mess of them before we got to that part. They’re laying in the foyer. I scoop them up before she comes back and gets all embarrassed. I like her better feisty than bashful.

Although making her blush does make me hard.

I head after her, stopping in the bathroom to clean up. Never came in my jeans before. Can’t say I’m a fan. It’s undignified as hell, and it makes the denim chafe.

I’m more than a little grateful that Una’s too busy fussing at me to notice the scent of seed.

I grab fresh pants from the dryer, and then I go see what’s keeping her. She’s still in the bedroom. There’s an odd sensation coming through the bond. A wistfulness. Longing. But not for me.

Her feelings for me are bold. This is a mild aching.

I pause at the door, careful to step heavy enough that she hears me coming. I don’t know if she can track me through the bond like I can. Or if she bothers.

She’s standing beside the unmade bed, fingering the Amish quilt. It’s a knot pattern, soft and faded from washing. It was my grandmother’s. My mother’s mother. I’ve got no living kin on my father’s side. Declan Kelly wandered into Quarry Pack territory one inauspicious day, killed the old alpha, and ruled with an iron fist until he keeled over with a chicken bone stuck in his throat, and not a soul moved to help him.

Not my mother. Not me.

Everything I’ve done since has been to ensure that history won’t repeat itself. Every male in Quarry Pack can fight. And every outcast from the five packs knows better than to try to find their fortune here.

It’s not been an easy path, but our females and pups are safe.

I lean against the doorframe. Una must know I’m here, but she doesn’t turn her head. She’s braided her hair again and changed into a flowing lavender dress. She’s beautiful and calm, but her eyes are distant. Sad.

Are our females and pups happy?

I’ve never wondered before. I assumed. No one’s getting beat. No one’s hungry.

If they weren’t content, would anyone tell me? Would anyone think I’d even care to know?

“What are you doing?” I ask Una because it’s easier than following that train of thought.

“This is a lovely quilt.”

“It was my grandmother’s.”

“She made it?”

“No. She wasn’t the type to sew. She must have bought it.”

“It’s human-made?”

“Yeah.”

“Your grandmother traded with humans?”

“She must have.”

Una raises her eyes to me. Her usual defensiveness is gone. There’s a vulnerability there now which scares me shitless. This female can be hurt. I can hurt her again. I can lose everything in this second, and I am not equal to the moment. At the end of the day, I’m nothing but a brawler. All fists and fangs.

None of those will do me any good here, with my mate considering her nest, her raw heart on her sleeve.

“Why can’t we, then?” She adjusts the quilt so it covers the pillows she slept on last night.

My wolf’s ‘no’ is loud enough it sounds in my throat. She startles, her fingers flying to her side. I stay still. Shove my hands in my pockets.

The picture of that smarmy human with the beard leering at her flashes in my brain. And her all alone, clutching that jar of mushrooms to her chest like it was treasure. It wouldn’t take a rogue wolf to carry her off. Any idiot human could manage it if he promised her whatever it is she’s looking for.

What is it that she wants?

“I’ll pay for your phone. If you want to buy the others games or whatever, you can.”

She straightens her spine. “I don’t want your money.”

“Then why do you want to sell shit to the humans?”

“I want my money.”

“We’re pack. There’s no mine. No yours.” Every pup understands this. Wolves aren’t human. We rise and fall together.

She snorts. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“Everything I have is yours.” It’s the truest thing I know.

She takes a deep breath and tries again. “I don’t want your stuff. I want mine.”

“You’re happy enough with my stuff in your nest.” It feels like a solid point, and I know when it lands, that I shot myself in the foot.

Her eyes turn shiny, but she doesn’t cry. She lifts her chin and steps away from the bed. “It’s just biology. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Una—”

“You don’t understand, and you don’t want to.” She shrugs. “I guess it is what it is.”

She sails past me, dragging her bad leg with the offended dignity of a queen. I’m an asshole, and I’m not really sure why.

“We can go to dinner now,” she says over her shoulder. “I’ll sit wherever you want. Alpha.”

“Una.” I follow her. “You’re being bitchy.”

“Sorry, Alpha.”

I speed up to open the door for her. She shuffles past me, chin high. I lift her by the waist and carry her down the stairs while she holds herself as rigid as a board.