Page 93 of His Rejected Mate

The chauffeur lifted his hand and clicked a button built into the roof as he turned into a driveway. A large, wrought-iron gate swung open automatically and we drove inside. Two armed shifter guards stood sentinel, nodding to the driver as we passed. The car wound along a curving driveway lined with maple trees before revealing a gorgeous brick and stone mansion.

“This looks like the place I grew up in,” Crew said, angling his head to take in the house with his one good eye.

Crew didn’t sound wistful or nostalgic, but disenchanted and sad. Watching his face, I realized he hated everything about this city. Somehow, this shifter, who’d been born into this muchprivilege, appeared more at home in the wilds of Bloodstone Island than in Fangmore City.

Chelsey noticed it as well, and reached forward to take Crew’s hand. A small smile creased my lips at the sight of it. After going through hell, they’d pulled through. The path they’d taken to find each other again was even more intense than what Wyatt and I had gone through. Crew and Chelsey figuring out a way to make their way back together gave me faith that things might work out after all. If they could find love again on Bloodstone Island, anything was possible.

The limo pulled up to a circular parking area in front of the house. Up close, the home was even more impressive. Hand-carved gargoyles stood on the eaves, the roof was an aged-green copper, marble accents on the stairs led to the front door, and a massive stone wolf stood in the center of a large fountain, a stream of water arching from its mouth into the pool around it.

“Holy shit, bro,” August said, staring at Wyatt. “I knew you came from money, but damn, this place is nice.” He pointed at the windows on the second floor. “Which one of these was your room?”

Wyatt ignored the question and pushed open the door. A butler or valet of some sort stood outside the car and assisted us, giving a hand to the ladies as we climbed out onto the cobblestone driveway. Chelsey, August, Eli, and I looked around, absolutely awed by the luxury around us. I’d thought Reject Mansion was nice, but this was a whole other level.

By contrast, both Crew and Wyatt appeared aloof and jaded by the whole thing. It wasn’t that they were bored of it all. More like disgusted at and irritated by the spectacle of it all.

“Refreshments?” another butler asked. He’d appeared seemingly out of nowhere, with a silver tray laden with glasses of wine.

“Fuck, yeah,” August said, snatching a glass of red wine from the tray. “It’s been a rough day.”

He proceeded to take two other glasses and poured them into the first, mixing red and white wine together. The look of utter disdain on the butler’s face had me stifling a laugh.

The front doors swung open, and all conversation stopped. A handsome, middle-aged shifter stepped out and walked down the steps toward us. Wyatt’s shock, recognition, and then anger at the sight of the man echoed from his mind into mine, and I knew in an instant that this was his father. Lawrence Rivers.

Wyatt must have taken after his mother, because he bore no resemblance to the man who strode toward us. Where Wyatt was broad-shouldered, this man was thin, almost wispy. Wyatt looked more like a football player, while his dad looked like a marathon runner, with blond hair so pale it could have been white and sharp blue eyes. Wyatt’s dark eyes and hair was a sharp contrast to his father’s features. If I hadn’t known, I never would have believed they were related.

“Thank you for bringing them, Anthony,” Lawrence said to the chauffeur.

“My pleasure, sir.”

Lawrence turned to greet us all, but his eyes lingered on Wyatt and me more than the others. “Welcome. I’m happy to have you here as my guests. I would like…” He trailed off as his eyes flicked to the claiming marks on our necks. “My apologies. I’d like to bring you inside. I have rooms for all of you—food, showers, whatever you would like. You are guests here in my home.”

“Thank you, Mr. Rivers,” Crew said formally.

Lawrence nodded and turned his full attention on Wyatt. “Son. You’ve, uh, well you’ve grown into a far stronger alpha than I ever could have dreamed.”

Wyatt smiled humorlessly. “Really, Dad? Is that where we’re going with this?”

Lawerence’s smile faltered a bit. “I don’t—”

“Not surprising you see me different now,” Wyatt said. “Last time you saw me, I was nothing but a neglected child. Left to figure out life with a bunch of tutors and instructors, and then that bitch of a fated mate. You never had time for me, didn’t give a damn that Serenity didn’t care about me. Did you even know she was fucking other guys? Did you care?” He snorted. “I doubt it. All you cared about was me pairing with her—screw my feelings. So yeah, Dad, I am different. Once I managed to get away from all thisshit”—he waved toward the mansion—“I found out who I really was. A true purpose and identity. Not something you could ever understand. Thanks for noticing.”

The tension between the two men was so high, it pricked at my skin. The rest of our group looked as uncomfortable as I felt. August chugged his glass of wine and kept shooting worried glances at Wyatt.

Lawrence, instead of looking angry or disrespected, appeared taken aback by Wyatt’s outburst. He smiled weakly at his son. “You’ve become more vocal, that’s for sure. You were always quiet as a boy.”

I’d never known Wyatt Rivers to be quiet. A sad ache filled my chest, realizing he must have been quiet because he’d suppressed his anger as a child.

Wyatt didn’t respond to his father’s words, just crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the other man. Most people wilted under that stare, but Wyatt’s father composed himself and addressed the rest of us.

“As I said, you are my guests. You can stay here as long as you are in Fangmore City. If you need it, I have several cars that will be at your disposal if you need transportation around the city. You all look like you’ve been through the wringer. My staffis preparing dinner as we speak. Go ahead and get cleaned up, then we’ll have dinner.” He gestured toward Eli and her wounds. “Miss? I have a healer on staff. I can send her to you if you’d like.”

Eli glanced at Wyatt, then at Crew, who nodded to her. “That would be nice. Thank you, Mr. Rivers,” Eli said.

“Please, call me Lawrence.”

“Okay,Lawrence,” Wyatt said, sneering at the word.

A few staff members appeared to lead the others inside, but Wyatt didn’t move, standing stock-still in front of his dad. I stayed at his side. His mind and emotions were a whirl that I could barely make out. Rage, sadness, disgust, heartache, nostalgia, betrayal. But deep,deepdown, there was still a small glimmer of love for the other man, though it was buried in the trenches of his heart.

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