Page 101 of The Wild Wolf's Rejected Mate

“No!” she giggles. “Affa!”

“Okay.” I shrug. “No apple.” I pop the bite into my mouth. She laughs like I’m the most hilarious, outrageous male on the planet and tries to pry my lips open to get the apple back. I glance over her mussed head of fur to see if my mate thinks I’m funny, too.

Annie’s mouth quirks, and if I’m not mistaken, her eyes shine even brighter. She is the prettiest female I’ve ever seen. Now that I’ve watched her up close without the rut hormones of a young male messing up my mind, I see she isn’t like the little fairy in the children’s book at all. She’s more like a wood nymph with her beautiful brown hair and willowy neck and delicate fingers, like Daphne from the book of Greek myths I inherited from my dam. She turned herself into a tree to escape her mate.

In the story, he got to stay near her and wear her leaves as a crown. I’m going to have to return my mate to her people. Never see her or our possible pup again, except from a distance. How can I? What power could force my legs to walk away from her now?

But how could I keep her here with me, make her miserable, destroy the trust she has in me now? Break my solemn word, again, when I don’t have the excuse of being young to temper my shame?

My gut aches. Annie’s smile falls as she senses my pain.

Will it hurt her when I leave her with her pack and tear my own heart from my chest?

I can’t let her hurt. Her people would never accept me, not after we tried to kidnap their alpha’s mate. And I couldn’t abandon my people. How would I live with that shame, either?

Worry fills Annie’s eyes as she scans my face, trying to figure out what’s bothering me, and probably whether she’s safe. I need to stop. Focus. I flash her a reassuring smile.

These are tomorrow’s problems, after all. Tomorrow’s grief. She is here beside me now. In this moment, I have all I need.

I spear another apple bite.

“Bite of Affa?” I say, offering the chunk to Annie, intentionally passing the fork near Efa’s mouth. Her snout goes full wolf, and she snaps the apple off the tines, scarfing it down with a very self-satisfied smacking of her lips.

Annie laughs, low and sweet, and my muscles swell, whether from pride or the excitement she stirs in my belly, I can’t tell.

“That was one for you. This one is for Annie,” I warn Efa. I do a little defensive maneuvering as I offer my mate the next bite. It makes it to Annie’s mouth, but it’s a close thing.

“Me now!” Efa demands, but when I offer her the next chunk, she pinches it off the fork, and with no warning, tries to feed it to Annie by ramming it through her closed lips. Annie’s head jerks back, her fingers flying to her face. I tense.

Annie recovers almost immediately. “Oh, delicious,” she mumbles as she collects mashed apple from her chin and shovels it into her mouth. “Thank you for sharing with me, Efa.”

Efa, pleased with herself, reaches down, grabs another handful of hash from my plate, and is halfway to smashing it into Annie’s mouth when I catch her by the forearm. “Whoa, sweetling. Too much of a good thing.”

Efa, quick on the pivot, twists her little arm like a snake and crams the fistful of food into her own maw.

“Oh, Efa, no,” Nessa sighs, noticing what her littlest is doing. She’s got her other two sitting nicely beside her with handkerchiefs tied around their necks as bibs. They’re scooping up their breakfast with their own spoons, delivering most bites with an admirable deal of accuracy, and here we’ve got her youngest, standing half on Annie’s lap and half on mine like she’s driving a chariot with chunks of hash in her hair and potato smeared on her face and under her nails.

I am not bad with pups, but I usually work with the older ones, teaching them to track and hunt. I’m not useless with a baby, though. I don’t want Annie to think I’m inept.

“No worries, Nessa. We’ll get her cleaned up,” I offer. The moment the words escape my lips and the eyes of every dam at the table light up, I know I’ve made a mistake.

“Oh, thanks, Alpha.” Nessa widens her eyes at me and blinks. “Little Bowen and Maeve could use a washing, too, if you’re going down to the stream.”

Her other two pups immediately clamber down from the bench, breakfast forgotten, their wolves yapping.

“If you’re heading down to the stream, could you take Noctiluna, too?” a female calls from the end of the table.

What have I done?

“Leon, finish your food. Alpha is taking you all to the stream,” Delphie says to her little one.

“Auggie, clear your place,” Lilliwen tells her youngest. “Don’t make Alpha wait for you.”

By the time we leave, I’ve managed to get us saddled with seven little ones. Annie doesn’t seem to mind the company. Efa insists on holding one of her hands, and Auggie wins the tussle to hold the other.

The other pups shift to their fur, leaving their drawers and dresses behind for their dams to pick up. They trot along with us,weaving around Annie’s legs, brushing her calves and generally doing their best to trip her. I keep a hand on her elbow.

“Is this too much?” I ask her quietly as we make our way down the grassy slope to the stream bank.

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