Page 3 of Rejected Mate's Baby for the Alpha King

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Rhyson

The little bird didn’t say a word during the car ride, and her face was completely blank as my men led her up to the hotel room. It was only a fifteen-minute ride from the hotel—Kork’s idea, in case I didn’t show up to the ball.

Already, my phone was blowing up, but I ignored it. Someone would distract Kork eventually. I wasn’t sure why I felt compelled to take the redhead from the ball. Mostly it was an excuse to not go in, but it didn’t take long to hear what happened. Larson had claimed his wife, and it wasn’t the spurned redhead.

She was lovely. Petite for a wolf, with a small heart-shaped face and red hair mixed with gold. Freckles dotted the bridge of her nose, but there was no other indication that she spent much time in the sun. Her skin was creamy and smooth.

Beauty wasn’t the reason that I took her. Beauty surrounded me. Women were paraded in front of me in hopes that one might catch my interest or that a mating bond would snap into place. I enjoyed women, but none had affected me quite like her.

And I didn’t know why. Maybe it was the fear in her eyes, tugging on my wolf’s need to protect. Maybe it was thinking that if she kept running around with a torn dress, the other wolves would tear her apart.

A private elevator brought us up to the penthouse. Her hands were still wrapped around her body, keeping her dress up. Inside me, my wolf growled. We’d both seen the bruises on her back. I assumed they were from Larson’s hands. Maybe the little bird liked it rough, but neither I nor my wolf loved seeing it. I didn’t like her marked or to know that she’d felt pain, even if she did want it. I didn’t want to think of her with Larson either. Also strange. I didn’t usually care about women’s sexual pasts.

“Do you have a name?” I said finally as we stepped out.

“Maya.”

“Maya. Do you know why I brought you here?”

“It’s not hard to figure out.” Her hands dropped and the top of her dress fell, revealing a gorgeous pair of tits, creamy and round with rosy pink nipples, perfect to fill a man’s hands. She stared at me defiantly, and I nearly rumbled in approval.

Instead, I smiled. “Exactly. I don’t have a dress to replace that one, so I don’t think you can return to the ball, but you don’t have to keep wearing that all night.”

A puzzled look crossed her face, and I crossed the room to the closet. Kork complained that it was a bad look when my one-night stands stumbled home in the clothes they were wearing the night before, so the hotel was stocked with some clothes. I found a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that looked like they would fit her. Tossing them on the bed, I turned my back. “Drink?”

“What?”

“Would you like a drink?” I spoke slowly and succinctly and let my eyes drift to the mirror on the wall. It didn’t surprise me when her gaze met mine. She’d yet to change. “The room is fully stocked: liquor, beer, wine, soda.”

“Wine. Red.” Turning, she grabbed the t-shirt and pulled it over her before letting the dress fall to the floor. I averted my gaze and made us two drinks: bourbon for me and red wine for her. When I turned, she still hadn’t put on the jeans. The shirt skimmed the tops of her creamy white thighs, prompting questions in my mind. It was the middle of summer. Most of the wolves around here spent a lot of time in the sun and were golden-bronze.

I looked. I hadn’t brought her here to fuck her, just to rescue the injured little bird and let her go, but now that she was walking around half-naked, I had a hard time averting my gaze. There was a strange look in her gaze as it roamed over me. Open interest, but when I caught her eyes, she quickly looked away.

Submissive.

My wolf continued to stir inside me. His interest was difficult to ignore, but then, my own interest was also difficult to ignore. I reminded myself once again that I hadn’t brought her here to fuck her, but that didn’t stop images from conjuring in my mind. What would she do if I ordered her to spread her legs and give me a peek between those lovely thighs? If I skimmed my hands over her skin to see if she was as smooth as she looked?

I handed her the wine and raised an eyebrow when she drained it and quickly coughed. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two. Can I have another?”

I tipped my own glass back and took hers. “Maybe in a little bit. If you want to put your pants on, I can have one of my men drive you somewhere.”

“You really brought me here just so I could change clothes?” she asked suspiciously.

“And give you a chance to grieve and mend your broken heart,” I said with a shrug. “Save you from embarrassment. You put on quite a scene. I would expect a wolf to draw blood rather than run in tears. What kind of wolf are you?”

“A princess,” she muttered, and then laughed at her own private joke before she cleared her throat. “So you’ve decided to play hero?”

At that, I snorted. “Believe me, princess, I’m no fucking hero.”

“Well, I’m not a wolf with a broken heart,” she said with another strange look in her eyes. Something was on her mind, something she couldn’t seem to snap out of.

Broken. That’s what she was, a wolf who had broken completely. Strange reaction for a scorned woman who professed to not have a broken heart.

“So what are you, then?”

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