Page 2 of Rejected Wolf

Their campsite was rough, just a few lean-tos tucked in close to the rocky outcropping, and a tarp strung between trees to keep the rain off. It looked temporary, and I wondered where they were headed next.

“Why are you helping me?” I asked quietly, though I had no doubt they could all hear me, even over the storm.

I felt him shrug where his shoulder pressed against me. “It’s what my father would have done.”

He didn’t need to tell me his father was gone, but I was grateful to the man regardless. Without the kindness he’d taught his son, I likely would’ve died out here, cold and alone. “Thank you,” I whispered. I vowed I would make it up to him, even if it took the rest of my life.

NOW

My wolf lifted ourleg, sending a dribble of urine onto the tree trunk. The acrid scent reached our nose, and I wished I could turn away from it, but I wasn’t the one in the driver’s seat. He lowered our face and shoved our nose straight in it, breathing deep. I swore he was doing it on purpose just to mess with me.

Dude, come on.

I could feel his amusement as he turned away, loping along his pre-determined route in a circle around the camp. We still had plenty reserved in the tank. There were dozens of trees just waiting for our unique signature. Logically I understood the need to mark our territory, to warn others to keep out, whether they be real wolves or shifters like us, but that didn’t mean I had to enjoy it.

I’d been spending a lot of time in my fur lately. It was easier this way. Not only were my emotions dulled, almost like someone had taken sandpaper to the edges to smooth out the sharpest corners, handing over most of my brain space to base animal instinct, but I didn’t have to make anydecisions. And that meant not having to think too hard about what I was avoiding. Running and hiding wasn’t new for me. I’d been doing it for years; except the reason for it has definitely shifted. Instead of running from a very real threat, now I was actively hiding from… babies.

Terrifying, I know, with all the giggling and the drooling.

Okay, so it wasn’t the babies specifically I was hiding from, but all the emotions it triggered inside me. First, Shan and Brody, our pack’s Alpha and Alpha Omega, had Malachi. It was nice to hold a baby again. It reminded me of when my siblings were younger, playing peek-a-boo and tickling their plump little bellies. But as Mal got older, the memories it brought up were harder to bear, less… cute.

My wolf shook his head, giving a sharp yip to bring me back.I know, I know, I told him.Sorry. He didn’t much want to deal with those memories either. They always made us feel like we’d failed, and nobody liked to be reminded of their mistakes.

We paused at another tree, repeating the process of marking it, before looping back in a wider arc, following the creek. The water level was high. We’d been getting hit with a lot of storms lately, and the banks were soft, the soil slipping under our paws when we got too close.

All the extra rain had made the forest burst to life. The foliage was full and green, and I noticed a thicket of plump blackberries just waiting to be picked. I noted where it was so I could let Dylan know when I got back. He liked to make himself useful, though his skills around the camp were still being honed.

I felt strangely connected to Tristan’s mate, because I could relate to him in a way I couldn’t to the wolves who’d been born and raised in the Grim Wilds pack. Dylan had grown up in Fairhome, and his father had kept him so sheltered that he hadn’t really known how to be a true panther. When he first got here, he couldn’t start a fire, couldn’t hunt, didn’t know how to tend the garden. While the reason for his lack of knowledge was entirely different to mine, the outcome was the same.

Dylan took straight to being a parent, though, I thought bitterly, wincing. Maybe we would too, once we finally found our mate and started a family. I could only hope.

The second batch of babies had been even harder to deal with than Mal. Shan and Brody had Wynn, a second adorable dark-haired son. He went hand in hand with Tristan and Dylan’s son, Pax. The two of them were only a week apart in age, and they hated to be separated for even a minute. Wynn would make his discontent known—loudly—until they were together again. Theywere so close at nine months old that sometimes they had sleepovers, just to give their parents a break. You’d think they were twins, although Pax looked nothing like Wynn. He had downy blond hair, and his eyes were…

Creepy, my wolf finished for me, shuddering. Yeah, he didn’t like the way Pax watched us either.

They’re not creepy, they’re blue, I corrected, feeling a little guilty because I kind of agreed with him.Pax is just a baby.

Liar, he scoffed. Yeah, okay, my wolf was right. There was nothing about Pax that said he was just a baby. He wasn’tjustanything. He was born under a veil, destined to grow up to be our pack’s next shaman, and the way he watched us… it was like he knew our deepest, darkest secrets and judged us for keeping them to ourselves. The other day I’d been babysitting the pups, and Pax was just staring at me for like two full minutes, and I’d finally said, “I know! I’ll tell them, okay?” He wasn’t old enough to speak yet, hardly even babbled, but he reached over and patted my hand as if offering me comfort. Then Wynn had shrieked, and the spell was broken. I’d laughed at myself, of course. They were just babies.

My wolf huffed, stopping at yet another tree, bringing me back to the present. We had almost finished our circuit of the camp, which meant I was almost out of excuses forbeing out here. The sun had begun to set, which meant dinner. They would expect me back.

I spent the next few minutes getting myself into the right headspace to be surrounded by all their lovey-dovey fated-mate bliss. Tristan’s dad was here for a visit too, along with his small army of security guards. I almost missed the days when it was just us, a small ragtag group of survivors, just trying to live another day. At least when I was so focused on food and shelter, I didn’t have time to think about how lonely I was. Now, even surrounded by my pack, I felt alone.

The last tree watered, a job well done, we were just about to turn back to camp when the wind shifted. My wolf’s legs halted on the spot, claws digging into the soft duff beneath our paws.What…?I began to ask what the hell he was doing, when the scent registered in my brain.

Fuck.

Peanut butter and jelly, except it wasn’t food at all. A warm flannel blanket, thick socks, candlelight, a hot bath, a tight hug… it was all of those things and more. It was everything that brought me comfort rolled into one.

Mate, mate, mate, my wolf chanted, turning toward the origin of the scent.

No!I snapped back, fighting him for control, but there was no way I could get him to listen, and he had me lockeddown hard. I may have wanted to find my mate, but not like this! A frisson of fear ripped through me as I picked up another note in the scent.Human.

There was no way fate could be so cruel… right? Everything was about to change.

Chapter 2

Morgan

---