Page 2 of Rejected By Blood (Mated in Silence 2)

Chapter Two

Could life never let me have a moment of peace?

I raced through the forest, zigzagging right and left to try to keep the guy who had accosted me and called meCallistafrom following. I wasn’t sure if he was a wolf or not, having been in too much of a hurry to get away from him to take the time to assess. He did know about the pack compound, obviously, but might be one of those who thought it was a rural settlement or something.

No. I leaped the stream halfway home, already swelling with runoff from the low mountains where our caves, the ones Crystal Canyon got its name from, were located. No, he was a wolf. His scent just made its way into my brain and confirmed the fact. But all that told me was he could catch up to me and could use his nose to do it. With that in mind I doubled down my speed and gave up on the zigzagging. If he chose to follow me, he’d get there eventually.

Arriving at home, I shifted on the porch and leapt inside, slamming the door closed behind me and letting the bar drop over it. When Dean moved in I had very little way to secure the space, but he’d added this old-fashioned but effective feature. And right now, I couldn’t have been happier to have it.

He turned from where he was adding some vegetables into the pot on the wood-burning stove. He’d bought that, too. I used to have to cook over the fire in the hearth. Still did, sometimes, but for most situations, the stove sure was helpful. “What’s wrong?” He hustled over and wrapped his arms around me, bringing my naked body into contact with his flannel shirt and jeans. Comforting, warm, wood-smoke scented...and everything I needed to feel better.

His lips rested on the top of my head. Waiting patiently for me to respond, but not in words because I had no words. Hadn’t as long as I could remember, although I wasn’t 100 percent sure I hadn’t been able to talk as a small child.

Way back in my mind, it seemed I could remember words coming out of me, but I wasn’t sure if it truly was my speech or just a desire for it to have been true. I communicated with nods and head shakes and as I got a little older with marginally literate notes. Never feeling like I got across what I was trying to, or barely able to. For so many years I’d wanted more…

But Dean never made me feel like less. From almost the first moment he made me feel like more. He not only took the time to “listen,” in a way that was hard to define but nobody else ever had, he taught me to read and write in a mature way. Honestly, although I knew my lack of education had contributed, on some level I’d always worried that I might not have the ability to achieve more. That maybe everyone but me knew that.

His arms were my salvation, but when I tried to move back, in search of my pad or whiteboard, so I could tell him what happened, he just started talking. He told me all about this day, and after he released me long enough to get something to wear, he filled my bowl with his concoction and kept talking.

It was odd. Usually he was the best listener.But if I wanted someone to listen to me, I needed to be a listener myself. I was no longer freaked out by the man in the forest. It wasn’t the first time I’d been approached, nor would it be the last. I knew that on some level. He hadn’t offered me violence, and I’d been home long enough to believe he hadn’t followed me.

I didn’t know why not, but for tonight, locked in our cabin, I could turn my attention to my mate and try to forget everything else. I’d been good at sectioning off my life for a long time. Having a pack who treated me as if I was not really one of them could be so painful...but the forest with its beauty and bounty brought me joy. Now there was the part of me who loved being with Dean. Then of course my wolf.

Were there parts of me I’d forgotten somehow? It was already crowded in my head. I suddenly became aware that Dean was studying me from across the table. So much for being a good listener. I knew he’d been talking about his day, about working and something about the betas arguing. But not why any of that was relevant to us. I waved a hand in apology but he just shook his head and stood, took my hand, and led me to our bed.

This was such a strange night. Not that he wanted to make love to me. We did that just about every night, and many mornings as well. Had we not been having such a totally odd evening, I would have been surprised if he hadn’t been trailing kisses down my neck. But even under these circumstances, I couldn’t resist the heat of his lips and his caresses. Didn’t want to. His love was the best part of my life, and as he stripped me of my clothes, murmuring sweet, sexy things, I set everything else aside.

After all, I was good at putting things in boxes in my mind. And this box, or section or part was the one that told me life was worth living. So I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back. Responded to his touch. Welcomed him into my body while my heart rate increased and my breathing grew shallow, panting. When his thrusts sped up, and he ordered me to come, I did just as he asked. Fell over the edge of the world into star-speckled darkness. He never came before me, never left me unsatisfied. His heat poured into me, then, and I held on tight.

But when he fell to the side and spooned me, I wished more than ever in my life that I was more. That I could speak soft words into the night, ask him why today of all days he wasn’t listening to what I needed to tell him. Why he talked all evening about seemingly random everyday things when I needed to share something.

I wasn’t about to get my white board though, and light a lantern, not now. Now was the time for drifting off to sleep and leaving questions for tomorrow.

But when I awoke, it didn’t seem so important. The man in the woods obviously had mistaken me for someone else, and Dean had just had a busy, frustrating day at work. It happened to everyone sometime. He was just so good, I expected perfection. And he was still human.

Chapter Three

Another couple of weeks passed, and the work on our “rural commune,” as many in the local town called us was amping up. We raised most of our own food, and sold the surplus at the local farmer’s market and at our own highway stand in summertime, and we shared the profits, so they weren’t completely wrong.

Previously, my “share” had been almost nonexistent, but with Dean in the picture, we benefited more. Everything about this man improved my life. And I loved him so much, my heartbeat sped up every time he came into the house or my line of sight anywhere. To even consider more was greedy in the worst way, and judging by his reactions to those in the pack with more than one mate, it was so beyond his world view, he’d never understand.

And someone like me finding one mate? Was a miracle and one like Dean? The biggest miracle ever.

After days of working in the communal gardens and fields, I found a day to visit the forest and do my real job. Gathering herbs both medicinal and culinary, as well as other useful plants was what I enjoyed doing best. When you’re all alone in the forest, it doesn’t matter if you can speak. I was 100 percent relaxed there. Maybe a little bit too at ease.

A while back, I’d been returning from Magda, my half-witch mentor’s home when I’d overheard two me speaking on their way through the forest. I’d hidden and listened to their deep rumbling voices. Usually I was uncomfortable with strangers. Even more than with other pack members. Thus my hiding. And usually my wolf was equally unhappy about someone she didn’t know approaching us. But she had reacted differently to the pair. Ears perked up, sniffing the air, interested.

I had heard they had basically just wandered into the compound and made themselves at home. Somehow. And I’d seen them around from time to time, but hadn’t exchanged a word with them. Which was better. So much better! If I lost Dean, I’d be back where I was before. No. Worse. Because before I hadn’t fallen in love.

Fiddlehead ferns were a big favorite at this time of year, and I had two baskets with me in hopes of filling them for a planned feast. One Dean had made me promise to attend. I was very nervous since I hadn’t been to any big gathering since moving out into the woods. So...none as an adult at all

My perhaps unwise ease in my surroundings combined with my focus on the task at hand and thoughts of the party to come allowed made me careless. At least that’s my excuse. But when the loud crunch of a footstep behind me sounded, I jumped so high, my fiddleheads tumbled onto the ground.

“Did I startle you?”

The voice, deep, rough silk, stroked over me, and I choked on my own spit in outrage at not being able to reply. I almost hadn’t brought a pad and pen because nobody ever came to this part of the woods. To his credit, Shane, as he introduced himself after pounding on my back until I could breathe again, didn’t laugh.

Finally I bent over and found my writing implements among the spilled ferns.Nobody ever comes here. Yes. I was startled.My writing had improved greatly since Dean’s lessons began.

---