The Tyrant Alpha's Rejected Mate (Five Packs, #1)

by Cate C. Wells

My good leg wobbles, and my stomach heaves. I can’t throw up. I have to live through this moment to get to the next one, and I can’t do that standing in a puddle of puke.

Una Hayes kept her feet at the end. She’s not as weak as she seems. Then again, she can’t be. She went after the alpha female’s daughter in front of the whole pack. And then after she got her ass handed to her, she in essence declared herself the alpha female. Saying I’m her mate. Holy hell. She’s moon mad.

Jab, hook, cross punch. Watch Gael flinch. Kick. What was I thinking about? Oh, yeah. Una Hayes has gone nuts. I better pay a visit to Abertha. See if there’s an herb or a spell or something. Una may be unhinged, and not much more than a mouth to feed, but she’s pack. I’m not gonna exile her to the foothills to die like my dad would’ve done. I don’t know what we’re gonna do with a crazy female, though. This pack doesn’t lock up females anymore. For any reason.

It’d be entertaining if it wasn’t gonna get him mauled in the ring. At least Una Hayes has the excuse of inexperience. She sprinted right into Haisley’s open mouth. Fuckin’ delivery service. I had to fight my wolf hard not to intervene. He must’ve thought a pup was being attacked. The whole thing still doesn’t sit entirely right with me, but if you’re big enough to go after a packmate, you’re big enough to take your beating. I wasn’t gonna let Haisley kill her or anything. For a second there, I almost tagged in, it was so hard to watch. I would’ve never lived it down, intervening in a female fight.

Tye shakes his head, changing the subject. “I’ve never seen anything like that last night. Una didn’t stand a chance.” “You take her to her cabin?” I don’t know why I’m asking. Or why I’m suddenly anxious for the answer. And it’s not just me. My wolf’s ears are perked, too. Maybe this is all him. He’s got some weird attraction to crazy chicks. Of course, that’s not possible. The wolf and I are two forms, but one being. We don’t have different concerns. That’s a faulty construct. Like pain. It’s in your head. It’s not real. We are our wolves. Period. Every pup who was raised right knows that.

Soft gray fur, wriggling and warm. Tucked ears. Small paws kneading my belly. My breath catches in my lungs, and my wolf growls low. Almost a purr. What the fuck?

“She’s not my mate.” “Obviously.” I nod and force myself to chill out. This is bullshit. Now I’m hot, sweaty, and uptight. And I got a semi from thinking about a sleep huddle, and Tye’s eyeing it. “If she were my mate, I’d know.” The bond is unmistakable. That’s what everyone says. “Of course.” “I wouldn’t have been able to reject her.” A male cannot resist his mated female. It is known. Tye nods slowly. He’s not saying something. He’s got that douchey know-it-all look he gets when he’s watching his mouth. “What? Spit it out.”

He runs his fingers through his hair. He’s got so much gunk in it that it stays perfectly messy. He gets my cousin Ashlynn to do it for him. Vain bastard. His musk is annoying. I don’t want him near— I shake my head to clear it. The heat’s getting to me. I don’t notice male musk. I spend eighty percent of my time in a gym.

“I looped past the lone females’ cabin on my way back from patrol.” “Yeah?” My adrenaline spikes. I’m only interested because every packmate is my concern. “She wasn’t there.” “I’m sure she’s got work.” The females are always doing something. “She’s not in the commons.” That’s not surprising. She’s probably running the woods now that her wolf’s wide awake. And she’s got to be embarrassed. She’s not gonna want to bump into Haisley or her mother any time soon.

“Una’s scent is stale. She didn’t go home last night.” I snarl. My incisors descend, pricking my lip. “Son of a bitch.” I suck the cut. I didn’t see it coming. That’s not possible. My wolf and I are one. We act as one. I’ve already got hair sprouted all up my back and my vision’s going dichromatic. I fight the shift. I’m not going to track Una Hayes and get people’s jaws flapping again. That’s not happening. She can go hide in the woods and nurse her wounds if she wants. It doesn’t bother me. It shouldn’t.

I settle back against the wall. I’m amped. The steam’s doing nothing for my tension. I’m not gonna go chasing off after Fallon Campbell and rend him limb-from-limb. That’s crazy. He’s just a kid, and he’s just doing what I asked. I’m going to sit here and relax. Nothing’s changed. I am who I’ve always been. I don’t have a mate. My wolf and I are one—the only flip-shifter in three generations. Everything is as it should be. As I’ve made it. The pack is good. All is well or soon will be. A low rumble sounds in my throat. I swallow it down.

Her heart breaks, and her heart is mine, so it doesn’t matter that I know Killian Kelly is garbage, and that he’s rejected us. I shatter, too, as I sweat and whine, haunches raised, ready, longing for a male in a way I never, ever have before.

“Tell the alpha that his mate is in heat in the woods.” “I ain’t tellin’ him that.” “Then make something up.” Abertha’s exasperated. She’s close. A yard or two away. There’s a slight easing, not in my body, but in my mind. She’ll help me. She’ll know what to do. “Like what?” “I wouldn’t dare think for one of the alpha’s minions.” Abertha doesn’t even try to not sound sarcastic. “Yeah, that wouldn’t—” Fallon’s voice trails off. “But if you were gonna give him a report?” “I’d say his mate is in heat in the woods.”

Abertha doesn’t answer. There’s a rustling and the stink of sour milk fades. I suck down a deep breath. And then I see scuffed boots and the hem of a patchwork skirt. “Oh, you poor thing.” Abertha squats, peering through the thorny branches. “How long have you been in there?” She clucks. I can’t even raise my head to acknowledge her. I’ve collapsed to my side, panting, tongue hanging from the corner of my mouth. “Let’s get you out of there.” She reaches in, yelping when a thorn scratches her forearm. “I’m sorry Una’s little wolf. This isn’t going to be as gentle as I’d like.”

“So you’ve discovered you’re the alpha’s mate.” Her lips quirk and the wrinkles in the corner of her eyes deepen. “No. He rejected me.” “He did?” She raises a thin eyebrow. “Abertha.” I drag in a ragged breath. “It hurts.” I’m sweating so hard, already the cotton is sticking to my back. My core spasms, and it’s worse than any cramp. It’s a contraction. A thrusting knife.

I want Killian. I need him. And he won’t come. I hate him. I want to claw my skin from my bones. I want to dash my head against a tree, but I’m too weak to do anything but huddle and shiver. “I can take you to him. I’ll need to go get a wheelbarrow or something. To carry you.”

“Knock me out.” Abertha shakes her head. “The heat will still be there when you wake up.” “Please.” My voice is weak. “Help me.” “I can’t. This is fate.” “Please.” I put everything that’s left of my self into the word.

“Well, in for a penny, in for a pound,” she says. It makes no sense. She stretches her arms high above her head like she’s warming up in gym class. “This is going to feel a little like three wishes.” She cracks her neck, twisting to one side and then the other. “And maybe a little like that sea witch from the Little Mermaid.” “What are you talking about?” Abertha isn’t always the clearest. She’s mystical, and she smokes a lot of weed. She gets on her knees in front of me, hovering her palms above my body, sensing my aura like she does when I’m sick. “I can, for lack of a better term, yank the bond out.” “Do it.” I’d do anything to make this all stop.

Abertha seems to note my hesitation. “There might be—side effects.” “I don’t care.” Another spasm racks me and my womb cramps, knotting my guts, stealing my breath. Nothing is worse than this. Nothing. “I can’t really predict what might happen.” “Please.” Tears stream down my cheeks. “The Fates have a tendency of getting their way in the end.” “Abertha, you said you could help.” “No young,” she says again. I wail. I’m past being able to argue. I can only beg. “Please.” She blows on her palms and rubs them together. “This might hurt.” I’d laugh if I could.

“I’ve never actually done this before—” Her other hand hovers above my heart, fingers twitching. “I’m not sure that—” She closes her eyes and sways. “Got it!” She clenches her fist and yanks her arm back, flinging it behind her. Somewhere in the woods behind us, there’s a crack, like a thick log is split by an axe. And it’s gone. The pain is gone. All of it. The heat. The pain from shifting. The scrapes from the thorns. Haisley’s bites and scratches. The only thing left is the dull and familiar throb of my bad leg. “Oh, wow.” I blink. Abertha grins wide enough to reveal the gold tooth in the back of her mouth. “To be honest, I didn’t think that would work.” “You did it.” There are tears in my eyes. “Thank you.”

“That short, squealy one wanted me to go down to the commons and talk to Killian.” “Mari’s—” Well, she’s hopelessly naïve, but that seems cruel to say. “Mari’s a good egg.” “Egg.” Abertha snorts. “You’re on the internet too much. You’re starting to talk like a human.” I shrug. I don’t mind humans. They’re easier to deal with than shifters. “You can’t live with them, you know,” Abertha says. My gaze flies up. She sees too much. “I know.” “You’d end up hurting one. Your wolf will never understand that they’re not prey.” “My wolf listens to me.” “Was she listening to you just now in the thicket? Or last night?” I sigh and rub my temples. She’s right.

Abertha gives me a wry smile. “The same way you do anything. One foot in front of the other. One day at a time.” My shoulders slump. I’m so tired. “He’s my mate.” “He was.” “I just don’t get it. How can he reject me? Mates are fated. Am I wrong? Is this moon madness?”

“Don’t worry. Killian will be sorry before all is said and done.” “I don’t want him to be sorry. I just want to never see him again. Or if he was eaten by bears. That’d be okay.” “No bears around here. Just wolves and rats.”

“It was humiliating,” I confess to her back. “He asked what I’d done to earn the rank I claimed.” He’s an asshole, but in the end, he’s right. I’ve won no challenges. Matter of fact, I’m zero for one. Abertha snorts. “For all that Killian Kelly’s a thousand times smarter than his father was, he still knows nothing. He’s gonna learn, though. Or maybe I should say ‘remember’.”

“He’s going to live happily ever after,” I mumble into my elbow, yawning. “Getting pawed at by females and barking orders from a metal folding chair.” “I doubt it.” Abertha plops a crock of home-churned butter in front of me and drops into a chair with way too much oomph for a sixty—seventy?—year old woman. “I yanked the mate bond out of you.” She waggles her arched eyebrows. “Didn’t touch his now, did I?”

“You were foolish to attack Haisley.” “Oh, I get that now.” “She’s got forty pounds on you, at least.” Tonight, before I go to bed, I am going to replay that line in my head and snicker and be very disappointed in myself. “There’s no way you could’ve won,” he adds. “I know.” He grunts. My agreement seems to be pissing him off. He starts pacing. “You’ve got to compensate for weakness.” What is happening? This feels like a lecture, but we’re alone, and the dynamic is weird.

I should be getting a crick in my neck from bending it. I’d hate it, but I shouldn’t be able to resist, not with an alpha this close and obviously upset. But I feel no compulsion to show my submission.

Could I just walk into the house? Let him lecture a shut door? It’s a heady thought—as warming as a shot of tequila. I’m not in his thrall. I could just—go inside. Make a sandwich. Take a shower.

Fate knows, I don’t want to be standing here. I’m worn out, and I stink. I’m not wearing panties, and I’m overripe downtown. There’s no way he doesn’t notice, but I guess he doesn’t care. He’s almost ranting now. “It’s basic self-preservation. Never leave your underbelly exposed. In this case, your—” He waves at my bad leg. “If you’ve got a gi—, uh, shit, a disabled limb, don’t go on offense. No such thing as the best defense is a good offense if your carotid is in some bitch’s teeth. Understood?” He glowers at me.

Killian drones on, and slowly, I relax. There are no more shivers or zips or zings. I’m warm, but I’m standing directly in the sun. I’m fine. Abertha fixed me. “So you need to think before you do stupid shit. If folks figure you’re moon mad—well, you don’t want that. Just—buck up. Rub some dirt in it. Walk it off. Understood?” He’s finally paused, and he wants a response. I have no idea what he means. Rub dirt in what? And moon mad? He knows I’m his mate. He must. Else why the speech about how much I suck? If he thought I was just nuts, he would’ve skipped to the part where Tye bounces me out the back exit.

“Una.” He grabs my chin and forces me to meet his eyes. “What’s wrong with you?” I try to jerk from his grasp, but his fingers dig in. I let out the smallest whimper. Almost a hiccup. Out of nowhere, a growl explodes from his chest. Really loud. So loud there’s movement in the cabin and a curtain flutters.

Killian drops his hand to his side. “What’s wrong with you?” I ask, rubbing my face. It doesn’t hurt at all, but it’s the principle. Dick. He seems—thrown. Like the growl took him by surprise, too. “Can I go now?” I ask. “No. Stay.” He raises his hand, slow and tentative, his forehead furrowed. He stares at me. My nerves sizzle. Then, with the lightest touch, he traces my jawline. Two rough fingers graze my cheek, his thumb caressing my neck. Shivers and tingles race through me, straightening my spine, seizing my lungs, curling my toes. My wolf purrs, low and languid, and rolls onto her back, exposing her belly. The little fool.

He stares at my lips. I nibble the bottom one. It’s instinct. He stiffens. A vein pulses at his temple. His wolf’s rumble kicks up until it sounds like an engine. Killian gently tilts my head from side to side. “I didn’t hurt you,” he murmurs. That’s such a lie. For so many reasons.

Then he rounds back to me, face hardened. Cold. He grabs my chin again. “Don’t leave the commons.” “What? Why—” “You don’t ask questions. You say, “Yes, Alpha.” He raises an eyebrow and waits. He can wait all freakin’ day. Dick. I stare at the dirt path. The males whisper amongst themselves.

That used to frighten me when I was little. Then it only made me nervous. Wary. But something’s changed. I’m not intimidated anymore. At least not now that he isn’t right in front of me. I guess Abertha plucked out my fear with the bond.

Annie’s eyes go round as dinner plates. She has the most skittish wolf I’ve ever met. Una steps in front of her. My wolf doesn’t move, but he barks an order. Shift. Annie shifts immediately. Under the truck, a curse devolves into a pained yelp. My bad. I guess Liam shifted, too. Una is still standing on two feet. My wolf barks again, louder. She lifts her chin. My wolf growls a few more times for good measure. Shift. Shift now. Liam wriggles out from the undercarriage on his belly. Annie cowers, trembling, gaze averted, neck bared. As is right.

No. He’s flopped on her good leg. “What are you doin’, big guy?” she murmurs. He kneads her belly lazily with his front paw. A short giggle escapes her lips. “Hey. That tickles.” She grabs the paw and puts it back. My wolf wriggles higher on her lap and sticks his snout under her arm. A peal of laughter rings out. “You did that on purpose!” She shoves him back, her fingers slipping into his thick fur. “Oh. Wow. You’re so soft.” I’m not. If I were in human form, my cock would be hard as a rock. As it is—I try not to think about it.

I’ve never really felt his feelings before. We’re usually on the same page. Irritated. Aggressive. Excited. Horny. Somehow, he’s developed a mind of his own. Preferences. I like big hair, big tits, a little effort. High heels and shit. I’m not into, like, homesteader chicks. But my wolf digs this female. Mate. It’s not possible. The wolf and the man are one. If the wolf has a mate, so does the man. Mate. I’ll be damned if my wolf doesn’t sound patronizing as hell. Like he’s talking to an idiot. Annie cautiously creeps closer. My wolf ignores her. She’s not a threat. Una glances at Annie. My wolf butts her. He wants all her attention. She smiles, indulgent. She’s not scared—at all—anymore.

He slurps right across her lips, and she shrieks, reaches up, and whacks him upside the head. I freeze. He doesn’t even snarl. He plops back and rests his head on his paws, makin’ eyes at her, a contrite whine in the back of his throat. And then when she reaches out to pet him, he lunges up and slobbers on her face again. He loves her shrieks. He thinks this is the best shit ever. And she’s smiling. Maybe I’d be, too. If I were in my human skin. It would be a sight to see. A giant wolf teasing this small female as if he’s a pup. This whole interaction is blowing my mind.

I am a once-in-a-hundred-years flip-shifter, alpha at eighteen, bigger and stronger than any competitor I’ve faced on the circuit. My wolf and I show no mercy to those who threaten the pack. We rule with an iron fist. And my wolf is drooling through this female’s jean skirt, luxuriating in the scent of her ripe pussy. “I like you.” She runs a finger down my muzzle and fuckin’ boops my nose. My wolf flops and wriggles until his upper half is plastered to her lower abdomen—her womb, where she’ll grow our young. Is that the wolf’s thought? Mine?

“You have to make Killian leave me alone,” she says low, almost under her breath. What? My wolf growls. He doesn’t like that either. We don’t take commands. “We’re not mates anymore,” she goes on. “Abertha fixed it. Tell him to ignore me. Okay?” Abertha fixed it? What the hell is she talking about? She’s not moon mad. The wolf can smell that rot a mile away. She’s not making sense either. No one can “fix” a fated mating. “Tell him he doesn’t have a mate now. He can do whatever he wants. He should leave me alone. I won’t cause any more scenes in the middle of dinner.” She laughs, and it’s self-deprecating.

This isn’t normal. Everything’s out of whack. My wolf’s gone rogue. My brain is on the fritz. Abertha the crone is somehow involved. And Una Hayes tastes fucking amazing.

There’s no explicit rule against us driving, but females aren’t allowed to leave pack land, and we aren’t taught to drive like the males. Except for my girls—who I taught—none of the females except Abertha knows how.

Killian and his wolf are completely different. His wolf is canny. His playfulness was a ploy. He wanted close to my wolf, and since he couldn’t force me to shift, he figured he needed to make friends. Killian doesn’t know how to do anything but bark orders. His wolf, though—he’s slick. Observant.

Killian’s giant silver wolf is only a vague presence in the background tonight. Killian the man is in full control, and he obviously has no interest in me. Good. That’s what I wanted.

The elders go on and on about the dignity of the beast and pack pride and the mandate of destiny, but at the end of the day, the pack pays its bills by charging humans and rich shifters to watch our males maul each other and bet on the outcome. Dignity my ass.

The uptight elders don’t want females making our own money because then we’d have options, and they’d have less control. It’s about status. At the end of the day, everything in pack life is about status.

Haisley winds her arms around his neck. He lets her, watching me. There’s a challenge in his eyes. Why? I swallow down the puke creeping up my throat. Is this a test of my wolf? To see if she’s feral enough to attack again? Or if I’m strong enough to hold her back? Or is it a message? He’s not mine. We’re not mates. Know my place.

At least I have something to do. Haisley’s still grinding up on Killian, but that’s not my business. My wolf is prowling back and forth as if my body’s a cage, whining in distress, but I’m solid. Test passed. Challenge accepted. He does what he wants. I do what I want. Thanks to Abertha, we’re not mates. I wouldn’t want him. He has no sense of humor, and he’s boring. His interests, as far as I can tell, are the shifter circuit, boxing, MMA, Brazilian jiu-jitsu, cardio, strength training, and “bulking.” He’s the prototypical Quarry Pack male. Even if he weren’t a massive dick, I wouldn’t be into him. He’s not my type.

His arm is loosely wound around Haisley’s waist. She’s draped back against him. His fingers rest an inch above her hip bone on the bare strip of skin below her belly shirt. I don’t care if he’s touching her stomach. If it feels like a horse kicked my gut, that’s because my brain hasn’t gotten the message yet that the bond is gone. I have to think about something else.