Page 70 of The Wild Wolf's Rejected Mate

My stomach aches. I ignore it, dig into the box, take out two tins, and hold them up. One has a swan on it, the other has a friendly, smiling teapot pouring itself into a smaller, smiling teacup.

“Which one do you want?” I ask, my voice still gruff from sleep. I didn’t speak to anyone on my mission to boil water. Everyone awake this early is wrong in the head. I don’t want to have a conversation at this hour with someone excited to start their day. They’re going to ask me to help them with something.

Annie squints at the tins. I slowly step forward so she can see them better, but she still shrinks back as I get closer.

At least her scent is holding steady. It’s delicious, even stronger than yesterday, rainy and muddy and musky in the best possible way. When I take a deep breath, I can make out traces of pussy in the air. I cough immediately to hide the groan that escapes before I can stifle it.

“The Earl Grey, please,” she says. Her voice is husky with sleep, too. Shivers race across my skin. I want her to say my name like she says Earl Grey. I want her to sayplease.

Please, Justus.

It’s never going to happen, not if she’s in her right mind. The tightness in my gut spreads to my chest.

I busy myself fiddling with the little stainless-steel mesh balls, trying to shake tea into them without spilling leaves all over the rug. My hands feel like wool mitts. Her eyes on me makes all my blood rush to my cock, turning my fingers numb and clumsy.

“Can I help?” she asks softly, and my immediate impulse is to tell her I’ve got it, but thankfully, my brain cell sparks to life before I can open my mouth. If she helps, she’ll come closer.

“Please,” I say, sitting back, leaving the tea things for her.

Keeping me in her sights, she crawls forward. Her movements are awkward with the quilt wrapped around her, and when the fabric winds around her ankles, causing her to lose her balance, she gets frustrated enough to peel it off. She accidentally undoes the blue wrap underneath with the quilt, and for the split second before she gets it sorted out, I get an eyeful of bare breast, side, hip and thigh.

She curves like a fiddle. Like she has a handle at her waist. I want to cup her there, hold her until she warms to me, until she understands that I don’t want to hurt her.

I drop my gaze to the pot of water. “Careful. It’s really hot,” I say to cover the fact that I saw, and she knows it, and now her face is blazing pink.

She resettles herself, making sure she’s tucked tightly, and begins to gently shake tea into the strainers with her upper arms plastered to her sides to make doubly sure her wrap stays in place.

When our females approach the time that they become interested in males but don’t want attention from them quite yet, they’ll just wear their fur under their wraps for a few years. I guess Annie can’t do that. It’s all or nothing for her kind. I can’t even imagine.

What do they do if they’re in their skin but there’s a sound in the distance, and they want to know what it is? How do they crack bones to get to the marrow? What if they want to crack a walnut? Do they go ahead and lose a tooth?

Thankfully, by the time Annie passes me a cup, I’ve distracted myself from my hard-on so I can sit normally.

“I’ll have milk and sugar for you tomorrow,” I say and instantly regret it.

Her face blanches, and I clock the exact instant that the wordtomorrowmakes her remember that I stole her, and she doesn’t want to be here.

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

I can’t.

Not now. Not yet.

I hop to my feet, leaving my cup of tea on the floor.

“We have to go,” I bark. “I have something I need to do. Pack business. It won’t take long, but I have to go now. I’m late.” I’m making this up on the fly, keeping my mouth moving so she can’t get a word in edgewise. I start fussing around the den, putting the tins away and folding the quilt, being really loud about it.

I catch a whiff of fear. Annie struggles to her feet, gulping down her tea. I feel bad—it hasn’t had much of a chance to cool—but my chest is tightening, too, and my wolf is getting agitated. He doesn’t want to leave her either, and he’s pushing for our body. He thinks he’s better equipped to keep her here. I push him back.

“I’ll take you to the females’ tent. You’ll be comfortable there. They’ll feed you, and I’ll be back soon,” I say as I rush her out of the den and down the trail to camp. I yap the whole time, basically repeating myself. Her fear scent is kicking up, and she’s still holding her empty teacup. I didn’t give her a chance to put it down.

“I won’t be gone for long at all, and I’ll send a pup to get your yarn and needles. I’ll have them bring tea, too, and heat you up some water, whatever you want. It won’t take long at all.” I swear I’ve never babbled so much before in my life.

Thank goodness Elspeth is at the tent when we finally get there. It’s still early, so I wasn’t sure.

Elspeth was from North Border, so she’ll understand how strange all this must be for Annie—and she’ll make sure Diantha doesn’t get too out of hand.

“Ho!” I call out as I approach the camp-within-a-camp that the females have set up so they can watch the pups as they play on the obstacle course we rigged up in the big sycamore. The females have their own small fire pit, a canopy for shade, and a thick canvas tent where the babes can nap undisturbed. Well,lessdisturbed. Pups at play are loud.

---