Page 76 of Rogue Games

As the pain snaps me out of my daze, I breathe him in, moaning as his addictive scent spikes my arousal once more. It’s even more alluring, and I crave it, sucking more of him deep into my lungs. My skin tingles all over. It’s bliss.

Mate, my wolf whispers, proud as punch of the situation we’re in. She’s got her man. We’re about to become his forever.

Then it dawns on me. I’m about to be marked by the alpha who’s hiding my mother from me. Who’s lying to me.

“Shit! What do you think you’re doing?” I shout, shoving Dean off me and scrambling away from him across the top of his desk, almost tumbling onto the floor in my haste to put some distance between us.

Dean growls, reluctant to let me go, but then he blinks hard, his senses returning and stares down at me. He shakes his head, coming out of his trance, his eyes returning to the usual smoky grey. When he realises what he almost did, he looks horrified.

“What the hell was that?”

“We’re mates,” I whisper, thinking that much was obvious. My wolf pouts. She’s disgusted I’ve ruined her fun. She was more than happy to seal the deal.

“We’re mates? But how?” Running his two hands through his hair, he looks distraught, like this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. It’s hard not to be offended.

“Well, I don’t fucking know. Ask your wolf.”

Fixing my underwear, I climb off the desk and stare at my tattered leggings. It kind of makes sense, even if I’m panicking inside. My wolf is mad about him, even if this is the first time she’s thought to mention the mate part.

Dean is shaking his head, equally freaked out. “Fuck. I almost marked you. I didn’t want a mate. My wolf never told me you were mine and this pack is the only thing I have. It comes first, always.”

His words are like a knife to the gut.

“The only thing you have?” My voice gets louder as I grow more hysterical, the rollercoaster of emotions from the last twenty-four hours sending me spiralling. “You have everything. You have money, a roof over your head, a family.”

Poking myself in the chest, I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m the one left with nothing. And still, you pretend you don’t know where she is.”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I can’t tell you? That it’s not my call? I thought we had something, that you’d trust me. Did you not feel the same thing I did?”

My gaze falls to his lips, the lips that even now, I want to kiss, no matter how fucked up that is. I’m drawn to him, even when I want to hate him. He moves toward me, pleading with me to listen but I place one hand on his chest. He stops, and I try to push him back, but he doesn’t budge. It’s like pushing a concrete wall. He leans into my touch.

“How can I trust you when you never told me about this? About him.”

I stoop down and pick up the picture of a younger version of Wyatt, taken here, in Dean’s pack. The picture of my brother.

Dean doesn’t react. His calm exterior pushes my frustration to the next level. How does he not even have the grace to look guilty for keeping this from me?

“Tell me the truth,” I demand. “Is she locked up somewhere? Does my brother know you did this? About us? He’s going to hate you too when he finds out you kept us all apart.”

I wait for his admission, for him to do something more than just stare at me.

He reaches for me, but I dodge his arms, knowing I’ll melt if he touches me. I cling to my anger. I want to hurt him. To make him feel as out-of-control as I do. I want to see his perfect alpha act crumble, so I know I haven’t ruined something good for no reason.

“Jamie, please. Calm down. We’ll figure this out.”

I go straight for the jugular.

“Calm down? You’re not the one mated to a liar. Your father killed his mate. Why would I sign up for a repeat performance?”

The look that crosses his face is one of complete devastation. Dean shakes his head and moves further away, like he can’t bear to even be near me. “I think you should leave.”

I can’t believe this. He still won’t tell me anything.

"Go," he says quietly. "You can stay until the competition is over, but you keep away from me, and you keep away from my pack.”

Finally lifting his head, he looks me in the eye. “Your mother cared for us like we were her own. I would never do anything to hurt her. I am not my father.”

A sinking feeling washes over me as I take in his closed off body language and obvious hurt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that…”

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