Page 111 of The Wild Wolf's Rejected Mate

Alphas are supposed to be invincible. They are the strongest in the pack. The wisest. They fix problems and right wrongs and protect the vulnerable, and here I stand, as I’ve always been, the strongest and smartest of my people—and still outmatched and outmaneuvered.

I couldn’t save Nessa’s brother from the hunters or Elis from the consequences of Alroy’s stupidity or my dam from the wasting sickness.

There are no alphas. There is no one strong or wise or brave enough.

There is only me, as flawed as I am.

And another impossible choice.

I can’t hurt her.

And I can’t let her go.

My grip on the pot handle tightens. Water sloshes over the sides. My jaw clenches, my guts knot, and my dry eyes burn.

I can’t do this.

I have to.

“Justus?” Annie appears in the den entrance. She’s wrapped herself in a light pink sheet, and she’s holding a cup. “You brought water.” She smiles, padding toward me on bare feet.

And then she stops. Her smile falls aways.

She blinks in the sunshine, the bleariness of sleep disappearing as she takes in my grim face and desperate hold on the pot. If I had dignity, I’d find a way to smile back. Say good morning. Act like everything is fine.

Her chest falls as she lets out a long, silent breath. She looks me straight in the eye. Her fear and doubt are clear as day.

She’s going to ask me to take her home now.

She takes a step closer to me, and then another, until we’re toe to toe. She gazes up at me, and for a second, all I can see is her beauty—her graceful neck, her delicate pointy chin, her soft, curving lips—and then I notice the expression in her eyes has changed.

It isn’t quite fear. It’s courage. And it’s not doubt, not exactly. It’s caution.

She draws in a deep breath and wraps her hand around mine, tilting the pot to pour water carefully into her cup. She already has a strainer filled with tea in it, the chain hung on the side with a fish hook.

She lets go of my hand and blows the tea water, although it’s hardly steaming now.

“I think I’ll stay here,” she says, her cheeks pinkening, her eyes glued to the hands wrapped around her tin cup. “If it’s all right by you.”

My heart shoots up like a rocket. My wolf howls in triumph so loud the water ripples in the pot I’m still holding.

Annie’s mouth quirks, but she keeps her eyes down and flushes a deeper red, plunging ahead like she’s afraid to hear what I’m going to say back. “I can help with the meals while you attend to your business. And I can do laundry and mending, as well as gardening and canning and beekeeping. But you don’t have hives.” She finally stops and glances up, flustered.

I’m grinning like an idiot. “Will you stay with me, Scout?”

She jerks a bashful nod, but her lips curve higher. “Yes.”

“It’s settled then,” I say as if she hasn’t just given me everything I’ve ever wanted. As if this isn’t the best moment of my entire life.

I water the cedar with the cool tea water and set the pot on my reading stool. Annie turns to watch the sun finish rising over Salt Mountain. I join her, and we stand side by side in silence.

It rained during the night, but now the sun is the warm yellow of a baby chick, fuzzy as the morning mist burns off. The sky overhead is a bracing blue.

It’s going to be a beautiful day.

I takeAnnie on my morning rounds, careful to keep my pace leisurely. She’s walking a little slower than usual. I can’t think about the reason why, or I’ll get hard, and the knowing looks are bad enough without me adding any fuel to the fire.

My feet are so light, I’m surprised I’m not floating, but I’m scowling and snarling like I’ve just come back from one of my stalking trips to Quarry Pack. Good-natured joking is tradition after a mating, but the smirks immediately soured Annie’s scent, so I’m having to warn our bigger idiots off left and right before they can open their mouths.

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