Page 34 of Claimed By the Feral Wolves

“I was thrown out,” he grunts, finally, his eyes meeting mine.

I feel something tug in my chest, something telling me that he and I have something in common. There’s a depth of sadness in his eyes that I recognize. I see it in Ezra, and I see it in myself every time I look in the mirror.

It’s the kind of look you can only get when you’ve lost something. When you’re grieving.Is that why I feel so drawn to him?

“Why were you thrown out?” I ask, swinging my basket at my side nervously.

The other men have all turned their eyes to Xander as well, clearly interested in what he has to say. A part of me feels bad. Maybe this isn’t something he wants to talk about. But, as muchas my heart plans to find a way out of our connection, I also have an unexplainable need to get to know these two men. If only to be sure that this mating bond they claim to have with me is wrong.

Xander looks at me, opening his mouth like he might answer, but then his eyes move to the rest of the men and he presses his lips together, shaking his head. It isn’t stubbornness that fills his expression, it’s reluctance. Maybe even fear. Even though I get the sense he’d tell me the truth if we were alone.

“There are only a few reasons a wolf might be ex-communicated,” Ezra says, his tone sharp. I see the careful calculation in his eyes, measuring the distance between Xander and I, like he might need to intercept Xander if he moves in my direction. “And none of them are good.”

We fall silent after that, and I notice the way Xander draws into himself, moving through the forest more quietly than the rest of us, taking care where he places his feet. My heart aches for him. Whatever got him thrown out of his pack, it’s troubling him.

Ezra might be worried that Xander is dangerous, but that’s not the feeling I get. When I look at Xander, I see pieces of myself. I see someone broken and trying to pull himself back together.

But maybe my instincts are wrong. I don’t know.

“Oh!” I say, jumping back, and all the men immediately go on high alert, Cayson’s hand coming to my shoulder as he assesses the scene. I look at him and smile, “Look! Mulberries!”

Hurrying forward excitedly, I reach up and pluck one off of a tree.

“These ones are perfectly ripe,” I say, popping one in my mouth and chewing. The warm, sweet berry bursts juicily and I bring a hand to my mouth, closing my eyes.

“Wow,” I say, moaning a bit. “That’s amazing.”

The images come back to me all at once: my brother and I gathering these berries, making pies and squeezing them between our hands to make our skin turn purple. This berry tastes like summer, like a silky cool breeze moving through your hair, lifting it from the nape of your neck, the soft rustling of the leaves all around you. It’s childhood, laughter, and the innocence of youth.

I let out a sigh at the feeling, and when I open my eyes, it’s to four pairs of eyes looking right back at me. Intently. Far too intently. And I have no idea why.

Glancing down, I realize some of the berry juice has dripped onto my cleavage, and I swipe at it clumsily, only managing to smear it around further.

“Oops,” I say, embarrassed, and when I look up, they’re still watching me.

I look at each of the guys, my heart racing as I realize their eyes have locked on my cleavage. There’s a tension in the air, just like the tension that was there last night when I slept with Ezra and Cayson.Sexual tension. Uh oh.Ezra and Cayson, at least, understand this arrangement. But what am I going to do if Xander and Maverick truly think there’s some sort of bond between us?

I drop my hand back down to my side, giving up on the berry juice and clearing my throat.

“I, uh,” I say, and Ezra meets my eyes, raising his brow in question. “I should tell you two,” I direct my attention to Xander and Maverick, who are still looking at me with dark eyes, like they could eat me alive, right here, “I’m not actually in the market for a mate.”

“What does that mean?” Maverick asks, his gaze darting between me, Cayson, and Ezra. “You’re not in the market for a mate, or you have reservations because we’re feral?”

“No—” I say, laughing and holding my hands up before he can get the wrong idea. “It’s not that. I mean, my experiences with men in general hasn’t been great, so I have nothing against ferals, but, if I’m honest, I just—I came to The Selection because Ihadto, not because I wanted to.”

There. Was that enough? Do they understand why we could never work?

“You are my mate,” Xander says, his voice low and rough, his eyes boring into mine.

“The mating bond can’t be denied,” Maverick says, putting his hand on Xander’s arm and shaking his head. “That’s the rule.”

My heart drops. The both of them… they seem so certain. If I can’t get them to see my point-of-view, there’s going to be a problem, and I already have enough problems.

“I thought you ferals don’t care about rules,” Ezra challenges, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“We care,” Xander says simply, his expression fierce.

I swallow hard, feeling that odd pull to the two ferals. The one that makes me feel vulnerable and uncertain.

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