Page 42 of The Wild Wolf's Rejected Mate

I feel sick and wrong, the happiness I felt in her presence snuffed like a candle, replaced with gnawing guilt.

What have I done?

I hold her wolf in the air, so we’re eye to eye. Her little legs dangle and her tail swishes as she cocks her head, patiently waiting.

“Who hurt you?” I ask.

Her sweet face falls. She glances down and away.

“What happened? Were you attacked?” I try to keep my voice even. I wish it wasn’t so gruff and rusty.

Her wolf growls low in the back of her throat, and wriggles in my hands. She wants down. She won’t look me in the eye. My stomach sinks.

I set her gently on her paws, and she promptly turns her back on me and trots off down the creek bed trail.

That’s a yes. Something happened.

I trail after her, allowing her a lead, but not too much. My brain races, my body tensing for an attack although my nose tells me there aren’t any predators for miles.

How did I not piece it together before now? Annie was terrified from the moment she saw me, and her fear never ebbed, not even that last day by the river. Even during her heat, it flavored her sweat. Her slick.

Why didn’t I consider that she might have areasonto fear? Elis knows none of us would ever slice him open, but he won’t even play wrestle with the pups anymore. And I’m not so stupid to think that Elis is afraid ofme—I know he’s terrified because of what happened to him. So why did I never consider that Annie was afraid of more than me?

Oh, fuck. Did I abandon her to whoever hurt her?

My stomach cramps, bile creeping up my throat.

Did I leave her alone with whoever did this over and over again? All the hundreds of times I made the trip to Quarry Pack to stand at the edge of their territory just so I could scent her on the wind, I justleft, never once considering that she might have call to be afraid?

I’m a fool. A careless bastard. How could I have gone so wrong?

I follow her slowly. The creatures who hunt in late evening are stirring, rustling in the undergrowth, but she doesn’t seek shelter by my side. She’s pretending I’m not here.

Because she thinks I’m a bad mate? Stupid and cruel?

My stomach churns.

Even out in the camps, we hear the stories from the lost packs. Sooner or later, the females we steal confide in each other, and the tales trickle down to the rest of us. Basements and abandoned trailers and storerooms. Cruel males who believe might makes right. Fireside in North Border. The Munroes and Blackburns in Salt Mountain. The ones they call “nobs” in MoonLake, including our adopted pack brother Alban Hughes who fled there when we drove him out.

Declan Kelly in Quarry Pack.

My mate was a pup when the elder Kelly died, but we’ve seen how the lost packs care for their young. Some they treat like kings, and others they chew up and throw out like melon rinds. Alban Hughes was one of those they threw away. Our pack did its best, but the days he’d spent crying for his dam on the river bank where she’d abandoned him did something to his soul that couldn’t be mended. When he left us for Moon Lake, it was a blessing.

Was Annie left to fend for herself too young? Like I was?

Every inch of my skin burns with shame. I can hardly bear it.

My wolf prowls inside me, seething and unsettled. I don’t know how to ease him or myself, but I can scent his aggression on my skin, and I don’t need to frighten my mate any more than I already have.

I need to get away for a minute. Run. Hunt.

Luckily, we’ve come to the hidey-hole I discovered years ago on a day I’d rather not recall now. Before it dried up, the creek carved a gully out under an old oak, exposing its roots and creating a shallow alcove. My mate sees it and immediately makes a beeline for it.

I hang back. I don’t want to leave her—at least, I want to reassure her that she’s safe here, and I’ll be back soon—but I’m shy of her now.

She knows how stupid and shortsighted I am.

Hasknown.

---