Page 44 of The Wild Wolf's Rejected Mate

I slide a claw under his pelt at the shoulder joint and do my best to peel him like an orange. It’s not my best skinning work, but I don’t have a knife, and I’m not going to make my mate pick fur from her teeth if I can help it.

She makes a strange noise. I glance up. She’s not watching me. Her eyes are glued to the squirrel’s head. It’s kind of looking back at her.

She makes the noise again, a sharp horking sound.

Oh.

Shit.

I snatch her up and dash for the bushes. We make it clear of the shelter seconds before she loses the content of her belly. It’s only water, but somehow, it keeps coming. I sort of aim her at a shrub and breathe through my mouth.

How does she have this much in her stomach? Did she sip from some puddle while I wasn’t looking? She drank where I did, and I feel fine.

She hawks up air for a bit, and then she quiets, whining. I carry her carefully back, and I try to interest her in the squirrel, but she won’t even open her eyes to look at it.

She’s had enough for one day. I have, too. I suppose it won’t hurt to sleep now and let her stomach settle. Tomorrow, we’ll meet up with the river, and I’ll catch her a fat fish. She can eat trout with the head on.

I clean things up and sweep out the alcove while she watches from a distance. She’s so exhausted that she’s listing on her thin legs. She makes no complaint when I pick her up and settle her behind me, my body between her and the outside. There is still nothing more dangerous than a raccoon out there, but I don’t suppose that matters. The dark is terrifying when you’re small.

I remember when I was young. Predators stalked at night, and I was already vulnerable enough without being blind, too—small, alone, and so many years away from shifting.

It’s unbearable to think that my mate knew that feeling, but she did, didn’t she? When I found her, she had no living blood family, like me, except she didn’t have her wolf to come to her defense. And she is so delicate. Her weight is nothing against my back, the pressure of her chest rising and falling almost a flutter.

And I stomped away from her like a pup throwing a tantrum. I left her.

How do I make this right?

For one, I’ll discover what hurt her, and I’ll kill it. Then I’ll teach her to shift correctly and fight so she doesn’t have to be afraid ever again.

A stiff breeze picks up, and the temperature drops. I’m shivering, stuck in my skin, huddled in the dirt. When the wind blows just so, I catch the scent of my mate’s vomit and squirrel blood.

I’ve just realized that I made the greatest miscalculation of my life.

But my mate’s wolf is breathing softly on the back of my neck, and I can feel her heart beat against my shoulder blade.

I’d live in this moment forever if I could.

7

ANNIE

I’m trappedbetween my sleeping mate and a wall of dirt, but my wolf isn’t panicking. I’m petrified, cowering in a corner of our psyche, but she’s wriggling up against his back and snuffling at his neck.

I can’t believe her. She nuzzles the skin behind his ear, rubbing her chin on his shoulder,scent markinghim. I don’t know how he hasn’t woken yet.

There’s drool.

Don’t wake him. Don’t touch him. Be still. Don’t breathe.

The voice bellows commands while I moan and rock. My wolf ignores us both. She wants to bite her mate. Gnaw on him like a drumstick. Desperate to discourage her, I toss pictures of the headless squirrel into her brain. She freezes, mouth open, midway to a nibble.

Thank goodness she’s squeamish. Quarry Pack males and their mates hunt and eat in their fur during full moon hunts, but I never have, since I’ve never gone on a run. The meat I eat comes wrapped in brown paper.

Her stomach rumbles at the thought, the memory of the squirrel swiftly losing its ick factor as she stretches her jaw andgently locks it around Justus’s muscular upper arm. His bicep flexes, almost imperceptibly, while his breath remains slow and even. He’s pretending to be asleep.

It’s a trap!

I focus with all my power on dragging my wolf away, but she’s in full control, and she’s lost all sense of self-preservation. There’s meat in her mouth, and she’s not letting go. She slowly sinks her teeth down, but not enough to puncture his flesh. She’s just—playing. She knows he’s awake.

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