Page 104 of The Wild Wolf's Rejected Mate

I leave her for a second to shift and snag my pants before one of the males sees them and tosses them into the stream.

“Sit and rest,” I tell her when I come back. She’s trying to coax the pups out of the water, standing at the edge on wobbly legs. Her face is rosy red.

She isn’t behaving like other females entering their heat. She isn’t shooting me sidelong glances, and her wolf is silent in her chest. She sure as hell isn’t grabbing my hand and dragging me away like Elspeth has been known to do with Max.

She’s not running from me, though, and she doesn’t smell like fear. In fact, she ignored my order to sit and waded back into the water to scoop out a wriggling, splashing Auggie. She tucks him in the crook of her arm and whispers in his ear. His tail starts wagging, and he licks her cheek. She smiles and hands him over to Murtagh.

“What did you say to him?” I ask her.

“To be good, and we’ll play later.”

I want that. With every fiber of my being. I want to take my mate to our den. I want us to lose ourselves in each other, and ina day or two or three, when her heat breaks, I want to walk my rounds with her, feed her breakfast, play with the pups, and then watch her while I work, counting the hours until I can take her to our den again.

I want to do it every day while her belly grows round with our young, until the pup we play with is our own, until we’re too old to work and walk, and we spend our days instead together by the fire, talking for hours about nothing, happy because we’re not alone and never will be again, not in this life, not in the next.

And I promised her that I’d take her home.

I swore.

The males lead the pups back toward the sycamore, and when the last straggler is gone, I offer Annie my hand. She takes it.

“Should we go to the den?” I ask.

She glances down, her cheeks flaming.

“Okay,” she says. Her voice trembles, but her steps are sure as we climb the grassy slope.

It feels like everything I’ve ever wanted.

It feels like the end of the world.

14

ANNIE

It doesn’t feel exactlylike last time. I’m hot. My clothes, my skin, the breeze, the lack of breeze, the brightness of the light—all of it irritates the hell out of me, but this time, the pecking voice doesn’t have much to say, and I’m not shivering.

Last time, I remember shaking so hard that my teeth chattered, but I feel more tipsy than feverish this time. How much of the shaking was heat, and how much was fear?

I’m not afraid now. Nervous, yes. Trying desperately not to think about what happens next, absolutely—but I’m not scared.

This is Justus. He leads me through camp toward the dens, as confident and unhurried as always, with a measured word for anyone who speaks to him. His palm is as sweaty as mine, though.

It’s strange. Justus is nothing like Killian, but he’s every bit an alpha, albeit in his own way. At both Quarry Pack and here, males straighten when their alpha walks past, but at Quarry Pack, males stiffen their spines, and here, the males puff their chests.

At Quarry Pack, until Una, unmated females would do anything for Killian’s attention—tight tops, short skirts,dropping things and picking them up by folding over at the waist. Here, females are just as demanding, but they want Justus to taste their cooking or side with them in an argument or lift something heavy, and the males are just as likely to jockey for his attention.

I trust Killian not to hurt me, but I’ve never been comfortable around him, not even for a second. With Justus, I can forget for whole minutes at a time that he’s a powerful male who could kill me in a single blow.

I am going to let this male mount me. It’s going to happen. And it might be awkward and uncomfortable, but it’ll be okay.

I clutch his hand tighter, and he glances at me, the corners of his mouth sneaking up. He’s pleased that I’m clinging, but he doesn’t want to let on. Another way he’s different than the males back home. I’ve never known so strong a male to be so reserved. I like that about him.

I like everything about him. He’s the most handsome male I’ve ever seen. I feel like his hair and beard are so wild to cut the sweetness of his deep brown eyes. The same with his build—his body is so hard to counteract the softness of his lips.

I want to kiss them.

Because I’m in heat, but also because I want to know what it would be like. How would he look at me afterward? I bet he’d be dazed.

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