Page 38 of The Wild Wolf's Rejected Mate

“Shift back!” he booms, shaking the buds in the tree above his head.

There is no way on earth.

“Shift back now!”

My wolf plops onto her butt and peers up at him.

“You can’t avoid this,” he says, quieter, through gritted teeth.

My wolf’s nose quivers. He smells like fresh-turned earth, mulling spices, and river water. She wants to wallow in the scent. Lick it. Rub her face in it. The lingering aches and tension from the shift dissolve, and she stretches, arching her back, yawning as big as her jaws will go.

Run. Run!

I add my voice. Run! You idiot, run!

“Youwilltalk to me,” Justus growls. “You’ve had it your way. Time is up. You’re done turning up your nose at me and turning your back.” His words drip with contempt. It’s clear he’s not saying what he really wants to say. The rumble in his chest gives him away. It’s the same sound Quarry Pack males make in the ring when they’re pummeling their opponent’s face.

Why isn’t my wolf scared?

She’s just sitting there, blinking up at him, sniffing the air for traces of his scent.

“I’ve done what you wanted, Annie. Do you think I would choose to come here? You’re a grown female. You can’t speak to your mate?” His voice grows louder and louder. “Youoweme this,” he spits. “Shift! Back!”

My wolf licks her chops, trying to taste his scent.

“Are you even listening to me?” he bellows. The question rings through the woods, echoing in the crisp evening air. My wolf is still trying to catch his scent on her tongue until his wolf snarls in his throat.

That does it. My wolf panics, drops to her belly, and scrambles backward until her butt runs smack into a tree trunk. She got about three feet. She trembles and stares up as Justus closes the distance between us.

Run!Run!

The voice is still trying, but I know my wolf is frozen in place, even more stuck than I would have been. She’s all animal, and she recognizes him as the alpha she needs to placate to get out of this alive.

My wolf and I watch, mesmerized by fear, as the anger seeps from his face, leaving his brown eyes unaccountably sad.

He sinks to his knees, sits on his heels, and sighs. His shoulders drop, and he hangs his head, his beard bunching against his chest. For a long time, he stares at the dirt. My wolf stops shaking, distracted by his silence.

Finally, he lifts his chin to look her in the eyes, and he says, “Annie, I would give anything for you not to be afraid of me. Your fear is the greatest shame of my life.” He straightens, collecting a breath. “But we can’t stay here if you won’t shift. I’m sorry.”

He rises to his feet and scoops her up, too quickly for her to do anything but stiffen into a plank. He tucks her to his chest, his forearm supporting her belly, her rump in the crook of his elbow. She presses her nose to his damp skin.

“I won’t hurt you, sweetling,” he says, his voice bitter and tired.

My wolf nuzzles him with her snout and inhales. All four of her limbs relax and dangle, swinging as he takes off toward the river.

He’s going to drown us. Bite him! Fight!

The voice is fighting her corner alone. My wolf begins to whack Justus’s bicep with her wagging tail as if she can’t even hear it. Maybe she can’t. The elders say the wolf and the man are one, but I can’t imagine ever letting a male carry me like a football.

I should be panicking. He’s heading toward the river, strolling smoothly through the thick brush like it isn’t basically booby-trapped with vines, gnarled roots, and hidden ditches.

I’ve run out of adrenaline, though. I’m oversaturated. And also, for some reason, I can’t stop picturing his sad brown eyes.

He’s nothing like what I know, tattooed and long haired and walking on two legs through the woods as deftly as a wolf, but those eyes are familiar.

They’re very much like the ones I see in the mirror.

6

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