Page 23 of Rejected Wolf

Even as I stomped my way to the bathroom, though, I realized that while I’d professed my love, he’d never once said the word. Didn’t wolves mate for life? I’d heard that once. Except Jude wasn’t a wolf, not really.

But then I paused in the bathroom, my eyes locked on my reflection. “Well, shit.”

There were clear bruises around my neck from where he’d grabbed me. No wonder he freaked out. It was a little startling, but if he’d waited for me to wake up so we could talk about it, I would’ve told him it didn’t even hurt! And I definitely hadn’t minded one bit while he was doing it. If anything, it had increased the level of pleasure.

I sighed, stroking the outline of Jude’s handprint. I had to admit, I kind of liked seeing the evidence of what we’d done. Having his mark on my body for everyone to see satisfied some kind of base caveman instinct.

After a quick shower, I threw on the same clothes I’d been wearing this morning because at least they still smelled a little like him. It was probably safe to assume that Jude wasn’t coming back, under some misguided attempt to protect me. Idiot. He had a lot to learn about humans—like how stubborn they could be, because I sure as hell wasn’t giving up so easily. That just meant that I wouldhave to go to him.

There was a knock on the door, and my heart soared. “Jude!” I shouted, racing to the door and flinging it wide, prepared to launch myself into his arms.

I just barely stopped in time, a stunned-looking stranger on the other side. “Uh, delivery?” he said, holding up a brown paper bag.

My shoulders caving under a fresh wave of grief, I shook my head. “I didn’t order anything. You must have the wrong apartment.”

The man glanced at the receipt stapled to the bag and asked, “Morgan?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

He shoved the bag at me. “Then this is yours.”

I grunted under the sudden weight. It was heavier than a meal’s worth of food. I set it down at my feet and pulled open the bag. Inside was a collection of grocery items—vegetables, eggs, a cellophane-wrapped pack of beef—enough food for a whole week at least. The delivery guy was already walking away down the hall toward the elevator. “Hey!” I shouted, jogging after him. “Who paid for all this?”

He turned back to me, his expression a mixture of boredom and exasperation. “Look, I dunno, man. I don’t get paid to ask questions. It’s all automated. Somebody paidfor a grocery delivery to be dropped off every week. That’s all I know.”

“Every week?!” I squeaked.

The guy shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

“For how long?”

He shrugged again. “Not sure. Until they cancel, I suppose.” He pressed the button to call the elevator, and I heard the motor kick into gear. I only had a few more seconds.

“Can you tell me how it’s being paid for? Is it with a credit card?” I was grasping at straws, which quickly turned into me gripping the guy’s shirt sleeve. “Please, you’ve gotta give mesomething.”

The elevator door opened, and he went to step inside, but I was still hanging on tight. He sighed, then held a hand out to stop the elevator from closing. “Lemme check.” He pulled out his phone and tapped away for a second. “Not a credit card. The payments are coming from a bank account under the name… Grim Wilds? That’s a weird name.”

“A bank account… Okay… Thanks.” I backed away slowly while the elevator closed, headed back down to the main floor. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected to get from him, but this just gave me more questions than answers.

I was shuffling back to my open apartment door when I heard someone call my name. “Hey, Morgan. Fancy seeing you here. You’ve been dodging me so long, I was beginning to wonder if you’d moved out without telling me.”

Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse… Wincing, I turned back to see my landlord Al standing at the end of the hall, smirking, with a cocked eyebrow. “Al, hey… uh, about that overdue rent. I—”

He held his hand up, cutting me off, as he walked down the hall toward me. “As much as I’m tempted to let you squirm for a bit, I’ll let you off the hook. The rent has been taken care of.”

My jaw dropped. “Taken care of? What’s that supposed to mean? Am I being evicted? I thought you said I had until the end of the month!”

Al’s feathery black hair gleamed almost purple in the hall light as he shook his head. “No, no! You’re all good. I meant your mate paid what you owed and covered next month too. You know, that guy is one intense dude. Not much one for manners, but I sure as hell wasn’t about to remind him to say thank you. He looked like he could snap me in two without breaking a sweat.”

While I vaguely registered what he was telling me—that Jude had paid my rent!—my mind had snagged on onespecific word, and I couldn’t seem to get past it. “Um, what do you mean by ‘mate,’ exactly?”

“You don’t know?” Al cocked his head, scrutinizing me with those dark eyes, his gaze trailing over the bruises on my neck. “You knowwhathe is… right?”

I narrowed my eyes at Al, trying to decide how much he knew. “Yes…” I answered slowly, deciding that was a safe answer without giving anything away. “How do you know? Are you also…?” I trailed off and let him fill in the blanks.

He seemed to mull over what kind of vague answer to give back, finally saying, “Yes, of a different sort.” Al crossed his bony arms over his narrow chest. “Well, being mates means there’s a connection between you, kinda like he’s your boyfriend but… more.”

“He’s mine,” I said on a sigh, feeling a wave of relief and certainty. I’d been saying this for months, but for the first time, I felt like I was saying it to the right person to understand.

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