Page 72 of The Wild Wolf's Rejected Mate

“Possible bobcat down by the gulch where Colm snared that grouse,” Max says.

Bobcat is not great eating, and in my opinion, their fur is a little too close to wolf to wear without feeling a little strange about it.

“My oldest said he saw pheasant in the mustard field,” Tarquin offers. That’s not far, only a half hour trek or so. I could be back before afternoon nap. If I fed Annie enough, she might doze off beside me, and I could watch her sleep in the daylight.

Or she could ask me to take her home.

“What about elk?” I ask. “Anyone seen elk?”

All the males shake their heads, and Rodric, our oldest packmate, rouses himself from a doze and shouts, “What did Alpha say?”

“He wants to know if anyone has seen elk,” Max shouts back.

“No need to holler,” Rodric grumbles, poking his finger in his ear to emphasize the point. It’s a joke that he’s been telling since I was a pup. He’s fully aware that he’s deaf as a doorknob. “I heard there’s elk up by the lake.”

“Oh, you heard, eh?” Max snorts.

“Which lake?” I ask.

“A big bull,” Rodric confidently answers the question I didn’t ask. “Fourteen points between both antlers.”

“The lake by the boundary to Salt Mountain,” Tarquin clarifies.

“The one with the bog worm?” I don’t need to mess with a bog worm when I’ve got Annie here. Their blood is like sap. If it gets in your hair, you might as well shave it all off, and I don’t know what I’d look like bald, but I doubt it’s an improvement.

“No, the one west of that.” Tarquin squints at me. “Why you asking? The smoker is stocked.”

I stand and stretch, cracking my back. “I promised my mate fresh meat.”

It’s the truth, but every male on the log, including Rodric, looks at me like I’m full of shit. No male would leave their new mate when there’s plenty of good food in camp. Thankfully, Alroy and Khalil arrive. Neither looks good. Alroy is clearly not fully awake yet, and Khalil looks like he didn’t sleep. His dark eyes are red-rimmed, and he reeks of rotgut.

“I thought you were supposed to be the fresh meat, what with the new mate and all?” Khalil slurs as he takes the coffee Tarquin offers and swallows it in a single gulp. Alroy eyes Max’s drink hopefully. Max tightens his gnarled hands around his cup.

“Ready?” I ask, ignoring the remark.

“No,” Alroy groans. Khalil shrugs and stumbles, even though he was doing nothing but standing there.

“Ready.” Max sets his cup down on the log and stands. He twists to crack his own back, winces, thinks better of it, and rolls out his shoulders instead.

“Griff,” he calls to his son who’s poking the fire with a stick a few feet away. “Go tell your dam that I’m going hunting.”

Before the pup can dash off, I quickly add, “And run by my mate’s den and take the box of yarn you find there to her at the females’ tent.”

Griff straightens and tries to hide the wide grin breaking across his face. I sigh inside. I try not to make requests because whenever I do, the younger males always take it as a sign of favor no matter how many times I tell them boot licking makes your breath stink.

“Yes, Alpha. I’ll take it to her straight away,” he says.

“And don’t forget to tell your dam I’ve gone hunting!” Max hollers after his son.

Tarquin snorts. “That boy’s already forgotten.”

Rodric shakes his head. “That poor female will be looking for you all over camp by lunch.”

“Well, thenyou’lltell her where I’ve gone,” Max says, tying back his graying locs with a strip of leather.

“Don’t count on me—I’ll have forgotten by then, too.” Rodric cackles, grabs Max’s abandoned coffee, and sips.

“You’ll keep an eye on things?” I ask Tarquin. He nods.

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