Page 7 of Rejected By Blood (Mated in Silence 2)

Shane would never hurt us.

Chapter Seven

Jillian

Dean was grumpy all day after finding Shane outside our window, but even if I’d had an easier time communicating, he wasn’t ready to hear the answer. He did ask if I knew him and I was able to write,We’ve met once or twice.

We were walking toward the compound at this point, both of us with assignments that would take us there that day. The gardens were sprouting like crazy, meaning I would be weeding on hands and knees, and he was going to be working on the remains of the winter woodpile. With such a good supply, there were still many cords left, but the pack had not left it neat as they made their selections. The bounty made them careless.

We parted midway between the two areas, but we didn’t kiss as we usually did. I started to rise on tiptoe, but when he didn’t lean in, I jerked back and headed for the carrots. Their leafy tops were growing fast, and since they were popular both with us and with livestock, we didn’t need weeds to impede them. And they needed thinning for maximum performance.

Dean called after me, but I ignored him. Partly because I was angry, and partly because I felt guilty. Maybe mostly guilty. He was confused, clearly. I suspected men you barely knew didn’t sleep outside your window in human form. Probably nobody did. Of course, I’d never been part of that world, but I did go into town sometimes and when I was younger, I’d seen some television and movies at the homes of friends.

I dropped to my knees and started down the first row, pulling weeds and pinching off seedlings growing too close together. Unfortunately, the work, unlike my forest gathering, was not engrossing enough to keep my mind on it. Every few seconds I looked up to see Dean, shirtless in the spring sunshine, tossing logs here and there, the muscles he’d developed since his arrival bulging with his efforts.

My bookish mate had become hot. No shifter looked bad, but all the outdoor work had added definition, and the sweat trickling down his chest, his skin glistening...well, I’d rather look at him than at weeds and dirt.

And it was a good thing I was watching him because just as I had almost convinced myself that I was spending time ogling my own mate when work called, it happened. A female dressed as if she was going to town or something strolled along and stopped a few yards away from the woodpile. I knelt up, waiting for her to move on, but instead another female joined her, and although I was viewing them from the back, it looked to me as if they were ogling my mate.

I stayed there long enough another of the weeders, Marci, came up beside me and elbowed me. “What are you looking at?”

We weren’t close friends, but I was mad enough to show her. I jerked a finger in the direction of the brazen hussies.

“Ohh, those two. You know your mate has really become the subject of a lot of gossip. Some of the girls are wondering if he’ll take another mate or two. It’s not as common as a female with more than one, of course, but there are always exceptions.” She sighed. “If I didn’t have my Norton already, I might be tempted. Was he always that hot? I thought he was kind of skinny and pale when he got here but, whew…” She shook her head slowly. “He’s not skinny or pale now. I bet he really heats up the sheets.”

Oh hell no. I wasn’t going there. Not going to discuss my sheets and my mate with this middle-aged wolf whose kids were older than him. Luckily, my lack of speech came in handy in cases like this. I shrugged, grimaced, and went back to weeding, letting her make of it what she would.

In time the two females wandered off, and I settled in, weeding and thinning, thinning and weeding until my back ached and I knelt up again to stretch out the tight muscles. The lengthening sun rays caught my eyes and I blinked but when I cleared my vision, what I saw had me on my feet and leaping the four-foot fence around the garden on my way to claw the faces off a trio--three!--females who had not only stopped to leer but were closing in on my mate who had gone from piling to chopping logs into usable lengths for those who still used wood stoves all year round.

He straightened and pulled a bandana out of his pocket to wipe the sweat from his brow, but froze. What? He wasn’t used to seeing his mate about to yank every hair out of the heads of those mate chasing whores?

“Jillian,” he called. “Stop. Don’t.”

My hands were inches from a couple of their heads, fingers clawed, and I had been fully ready to wreak havoc upon their persons, but his words slowed me. Didn’t quite stop me. I brought my hands down and gave a strong shove to two of them. My mate was not theirs. I’d had nothing in this pack before he showed up. Before we helped each other make a life together, and a trio of randos, a trio who when we were all kids together treated me really badly, this trio was not going to lay a finger on my mate or my life.

F. Them.

“Jillian!” Dean let the axe drop, missing his foot by inches, because of me, because I who could see another mate, maybe even two would deny him the same if he chose it. If it was meant to be.

My wolf was howling inside me and I turned and ran, stripping as I did, shifting into my furry self, setting her free to take me home where I could hide my shameful behavior.

They are not his mates, she insisted, leaping over a fallen log. He is ours, but he is not theirs.

How do you know? You cannot know that.

I know.

But what if she didn’t? What if he was destined to be mated to females who disparaged me? Who had tripped me up and “accidentally” spilled things on me...who had told everyone I was an idiot just because I couldn’t talk. Or read. Or do anything nobody had bothered to teach me?

We ran until we couldn’t run anymore then walked home, head and tail down, and curled up by the hearth. Dean was there, in bed, but he wasn’t asleep.

“Jillian, what happened?”

I was too tired to shift, plus if I could get him to do the same, we could mind speak. After staring at me a long moment, he slipped out of bed, in all his gorgeous nudity, and joined me on the hearth, two wolves, muzzles together, while I told him some things about my childhood.

And those females.

I wanted to talk about Shane, about the possibility that there might me more males for me, but I didn’t. As I took comfort in his furry body wrapped around mine, his oath that he’d never want anyone but me, the moment when I could have explained had passed. For now. It would come back around soon.

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