Page 2 of Leave Me
Licking my lips, I checked King out and thought about the fact that my one exception to boys wasn’t an excuse anymore. “No, not bi.”
“That’s cool, Ri.” We’d made it to the base of the steps to the pack house, and King turned to give me a crooked smile. “Pretty sure I’m not straight, either.”
“Oh?” My voice broke awkwardly over the short sound. Was I delusional, or was King flirting with me?
When I was about to ask something ridiculous, like, ‘Do you like chubby blonds?’the front door of the large house slammed open, smacking against the outer wall.
King and I jumped back, and I hadn’t even realized we’d gotten so close. The sight of Alpha King glaring, a mostly empty whiskey bottle dangling from one hand, threw ice water on whatever was happening between King and me.
“Why do you bother with this half-breed?” Alpha King slurred and tugged at his ripped jeans. He’d lost weight and was gaunt, but Ididn’t miss the handgun holstered at his hip. “Your little friend won’t even present. Not even a half-breed. Not worth half your time.” He chuckled to himself over his rude joke.
He was right, though. I wasn’t likely to present a secondary gender, since my mom hadn’t, and she was a half-shifter.
“My girl’s gonna be the next alpha, and she…” Alpha King took another swig and pointed the bottle at my friend, whose hands were in fists by his sides, where he’d stepped in front of me. “She needs a real man to pass on the King genes.”
“Not a girl,” King mumbled under his breath, but I caught it and hated his father a little more.
Before I could do something stupid, such as telling Alpha to shut the fuck up and not talk to my friend like that, my mom elbowed past him and marched down the stairs, her cleaning supplies swinging wildly in their bucket.
“Riley, we need to go home.” Mom raised a brow and begged me not to say anything. She was shorter than me, with wide hips and a frilly apron over her worn jeans and cardigan, but I knew when she meant business.
“See you Monday,” I called out to King, noticing how his head was bowed but not able to see his face as my mom dragged me towards the driveway.
“Monday,” King nodded, but if he said anything else, it was drowned out by the sound of his father falling over his own feet.
The King men became useless when they lost their wives. I wasn’t sure how King put up with his drunk father, taking care of his little sister and grandfather since both his mom and grandma had died, but I knew it wouldn’t last. My biggest worry was that he’d decide he was done with the pain and hassle, and he wouldn’t stick around our small town forever.
Two years later, the day after he graduated from high school, my fear became a reality. King left Blue Lake for good.
Chapter one
Fowler King
One Week Ago…
Watching your best friend and roommate find his fated mate and fall in love is…not recommended. The compersion I felt brought me joy to see Hudson’s happiness, but I was man enough to admit I also felt envy. I couldn’t deny the man who helped me through some of my darkest years his own slice of heaven.
Still, I wanted it for myself.
My winning smile, auburn hair, and hard-fought body meant I didn’t have any trouble finding men to sleep with. I fell hard, and they went running. Despite understanding and exploring polyamory, knowing the expectation for one person to fulfill all my needs was unrealistic, I still wanted to find my one true mate for life.
My favorite memories of my mother included her legends about shifters and fated mates. Oral history, according to her, but the men in my family called them fairy tales. I was inclined to believe her. They said women would have their stories, but I never felt like a woman.
From the age of two, when I started understanding the gender binary, I stated I wasnota girl. My father laughed and said, “Of course not, you’re a wolf of the King Pack.”
My mom hadn’t laughed. Instead, she’d held me close and whispered, “You can be whatever you want, baby, and don’t letanyonetell you otherwise.”
She would tell me the same thing many times until her death, when my sister was born. Dad blamed the new infant in our family, but I blamed him for not allowing her to go to the hospital. My baby sister and I moved in with our grandparents when I was thirteen, and when I started high school, I decided to keep my thoughts about my gender to myself.
Dad found out I was transgender anyway, and it hadn’t gone well.
“You turned foul without your mother,” he’d growled at me, signs of a shift in his hands and eyes. I wasn’t too worried; he’d never had a full shift when drunk.
When I started testosterone and was getting ready to move away, he made his position clear. “There’s no place in my pack for your type. I never want to see you again.”
Running upstairs in the old family farmhouse, I’d packed up and left after graduation and never looked back. Instead of the name passed down from my mother, I chose the name Fowler to prove my father wrong.
Now, I was turning twenty-eight, and I hadn’t seen any of my family in person for a decade, except for my little sister, Channing. I talked with her often, since she joined social media a few years ago, and she updated me on the family and town.
