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

by Cate C. Wells

He’s not my mate. And that’s good. It’s so good. Remember the thicket? It was agony. I was torn and beaten and aching, and if I’d had the strength, I would have dragged myself on my belly to Killian’s door and begged him to mount me. I was alone and bleeding in a briar patch, and where was he? He’s not my mate. He can touch whoever he wants. He can bend Haisley Byrne over up there on the dais, and I might puke, but I won’t care. Not. My. Mate.

“Shit. I need two pitchers of beer, too. I’ll get it.” I make for the keg, but Kennedy grabs my wrist to halt me. “You just keep growling at those assholes. I’ll pour.” “I’m growling?” “Sure are.” She gives me a small sympathetic smile. “Don’t let the bastards get you down.”

But what if your heat and your wolf never come? What if you’re female but your wolf isn’t? What are you then? Are you pack? Are you only pack if you follow the rules? If you don’t draw attention to the part of you that doesn’t fit? Or can everyone see that you don’t really belong, and it’s only a matter of time before exile? Wouldn’t it be smarter to get the hell out of town before that happens?

Pack isn’t just Cheryl and Killian and Haisley and the assholes at the A-roster table. It’s also Abertha and Mari and Annie and Old Noreen and Liam and Fallon. It’s the Malones and Butlers and Campbells. It’s the pups. It’s the elders who remember my Ma and Da and will tell me new stories about them I’ve never heard before, even now after they’ve been gone so long.

I’ll feel the humiliation later. Maybe I can grab a chair leg? “Lochlan, what the fuck? She’s got a bad leg, asshole.” Gael abandons the fight and trots over. He elbows past a gawking Cheryl and bends over, grabbing me under the arms and hoisting me up with zero finesse. For a second, I feel a flash of gratitude. And then Killian howls so loud that the plates rattle on the tables. He leaps from his chair, transforming into the wolf mid-air, and Haisley goes flying, landing on her butt a few feet away. I don’t have time to do more than tense before Killian’s silver wolf bowls into Gael. Everyone scrambles for distance.

The past and present collide. Snarls, cries, shouts, and blood. I freeze, too. And then Ashlynn Kelly—who I hadn’t even noticed tonight—seizes my forearm and uses her whole weight to drag me across the floor, out of the way.

Killian is mauling the smaller male. Gael’s wolf is limp, head bent to show his neck, his flanks rising and falling rapidly as blood pools around him. The fight was over before it began, but Killian’s wolf is unsatisfied. He growls ferociously, shaking the rafters, and then he paces, taking lazy swipes at Gael’s prone carcass.

He raises his muzzle to the ceiling and howls, a ferocious bellow of power and command. Submit. Every packmate bends lower. The reek of piss and terror assails my nose. My wolf kind of checks out what’s going on behind her, and then she sits, careful of her bad back leg. She doesn’t cower or run. The happy idiot plops down on her rump and begins to lick herself. I like her. We’re gonna die, but she does not care. She’s not gonna let Killian’s wolf see her sweat.

Killian’s wolf butts us a third time, harder. My wolf huffs and grazes his side with her teeth. It’s a brief nip. Perfunctory. Irritated and indulgent. And the air changes. The big wolf’s golden eyes fade to dusky blue. There’s a crack of bones, and Killian’s movements are masked by the weird fast-forwarding effect as he flip-shifts. In a split second, he’s looming above my wolf, buck naked, fists balled, every muscle tight and cast in sharp relief. His teeth are bared. He’s furious. He doesn’t waste a second. He scoops my wolf up in his arms like a naughty pup and strides toward the doors.

“What’s wrong with you?” he booms. My gaze flies up. He’s glaring. “Lochlan tripped me. You attacked Gael.” I don’t know what the answer’s supposed to be. He snarls. “Not that.” His chest rumbles. “Stop. Shaking,” he grits from clenched teeth. “I can’t.” The adrenaline has ebbed, and I’m a ball of raw nerves. Every inch that I’m not holding onto for modesty is trembling. He growls again. “Don’t move.”

“We’re not mates,” he spits, finally breaking the silence. It sounds like an accusation. It cuts, but no worse than a splinter or a bee sting. “I know,” I say. His jaw tenses into a sharp line. His expression is now beyond forbidding—it’s menacing. “This is the second time you’ve been the cause of disruption in the pack.” How’s that? I don’t actually reply. Pack protocol is so ingrained. “I could have killed Gael.” He’s putting that on me? No way.

“I will not tolerate this, this—disorder. You cannot—” I panic. “Bullshit.” It flies from my lips. He freezes mid-step, eyebrows slowly raising. I interrupted him. Oh, crap. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. I hug my arms tighter. “You can’t blame me because you can’t control your wolf.” “I can’t control my wolf?” “Or your males.” If I’m getting exiled, I’m laying it all out. “Lochlan tripped me on purpose. Are you okay with that? ‘Cause I remember having to sit through a bunch of lectures about how only pussies hit females and pups.”

Killian’s lips peel back. His fangs have descended, but he shows no other signs of becoming the wolf. Flip-shifter weirdness. “I control my males,” he hisses, threat lacing each word. I need to shut up. Nod. Make this be over. But now my mouth has its own mind, too. “Was it your idea for them to trip the female with the bad leg, then?” He snarls. “I’ll deal with it.” “Gael dealt with it. You were busy with your dinner and a show.” I know when you’re in a hole, you’re supposed to stop digging, but I can’t stop myself from adding, “Playing Haisley Byrne’s chair.”

I don’t know what possesses me. I swear I don’t have a death wish. Maybe Abertha took my filter when she yanked out the mate bond. “I don’t need my little wolf,” I say. “I have your big one.” He growls.

“You’re gonna tell me how to lead my pack?” He gets right in my face, his gaze skewering me, challenging me, daring me. I’ve seen him do this with his males a hundred times. He forces them to look him in the eye, and then he eye-fucks them until they can’t help but lower their heads. It’s a dominance move. I should be squirming, itching to bend my neck. But way back, I sense his wolf, calm now, attentive, and pleased as shit that I claimed him.

What did he ask me? Oh, it was meant as a rhetorical question. About telling him how to lead his pack. But yeah, I have thoughts. “Somebody should. You need to rein in the assholes. Unless you want to be the alpha of a pack so pathetic the males have to trip a female with a bad leg to make sure she knows her place. ‘Cause I’m such a threat to the natural order. With my killer wolf and all.”

But I’m not panicking. I’m—curious? My wolf is very interested. She’s right up against the border between us. Peering through the fence slats. There’s a prod at my belly. What is that? Oh, shit. I know what that is. It’s his cock. He’s hard. I’m making him hard. What’s happening? I don’t look down. My face would literally burst into flames.

“You’re wrong,” he finally says, low and intent. “You’re a threat.” I shake my head. “You’ve got an alpha wolf enthralled. How the fuck did you do it?” His Adam’s apple bobs as he speaks. He’s so chiseled, even his neck exudes strength, the cords, the vein running the length. My mouth waters. I want to sink my teeth into it. I’m losing my mind.

Hayes?” I swallow. “You’re reaming me out.” “Kind of feels like the opposite.” “Well, if I were alpha, I wouldn’t let assholes like Lochlan Byrne kick people when they’re down. And you’re lucky you didn’t kill Gael—" “I wasn’t trying to kill him. I was making a point.” “Which was?” He frowns. “I ask the questions.” “How’s that workin’ out for you?” Did I just say that? Am I cruisin’ for a bruisin’, like my Da used to say?

“I don’t like you,” I say. It’s such a stupid argument. He nips at my shoulder. “You don’t have to. Do you think half the females in this pack like me? I’m the alpha.” “I think it’s bigger.” My voice is breathless. Wobbly. He stops messing with my neck and rises to his full height to gaze down at my upturned face. His forehead wrinkles. “What?” “The number. It’s definitely more than half.”

He doesn’t laugh, but he doesn’t snap my neck like a twig, either. He kind of cocks his head. “Why don’t you like me?” “Well—” I don’t know where to start, but I do know that saying pretty much anything honest would be a huge freakin’ mistake. “I mean, for one, you’re pulling my hair. It hurts.”

But I don’t say that. I hedge a little. “I don’t see it that way.” “And you know better than your elders?” “There’s a division between you and your wolf.” It’s as clear as the color of his irises. And the fact that his wolf actually likes me. “Is that so? And how do you know?” Because he’s a cocky asshole, and his wolf is a giant, homicidal snuggle bunny.

He leans close, and when he whispers, his lips brush my earlobe. “And what are you going to do with him, little wolf?” A husky whine escapes from deep in my chest, a demanding, impatient sound dripping with raw lust. I press my palm to my mouth, cheeks flaming, and Killian laughs, backing off. Somehow, the spell is broken. A mask I didn’t even realize had been lifted returns, making Killian’s face cold and hard again. And almost—worried. He jerks his chin toward the lodge’s front doors. “Come on.” He doesn’t wait for a response. He heads inside, fully expecting me to follow, the elastic from my braid around his corded wrist. I wait a full three seconds before I scurry after him.

Besides Killian, I’m the only one standing. I catch sight of Annie, Kennedy, and Old Noreen at the window in the kitchen door. I bet Mari’s in the back, hiding her eyes. Is he going to exile me now? But he’s not focused on me. He stalks right up to Lochlan Byrne, whacks the back of his head, and grunts, “You. Me. Now.” Then he goes to stand in the middle of the open floor. Lochlan shrugs and smirks across the table at his buddy Finn as he pushes back his chair, feigning unconcern.

Both males are sweating now, their chests vibrating with the growls and snarls of their pent-up wolves. Blood trickles from the edge of Killian’s eyebrow. Lochlan smirks. You can see the confidence swelling in him. He thinks he has a chance. He doesn’t, does he?

There’s a crack. Lochlan stumbles. Weaves. He’s not smirking anymore. But Killian—Killian’s grinning now. His eyes are bright gold with pale blue rims. “Get off on tripping lone females with bad legs, eh?” he pants. Lochlan’s a good fighter. He ignores the taunt and goes after Killian with a vengeance, throwing combination after combination, driving him to the edge of the open floor. Killian takes blow after blow to the face, the ribs. He’s jerking back and forth like a rag doll, but he never loses his balance, not for a second. He spits blood on the linoleum. “Rules don’t apply to you, eh?”

He doesn’t launch immediately into another attack. Lochlan studies Killian, the wheels turning. Killian’s stance hasn’t changed. He’s still bouncing lightly, fists in guard position, cool and collected despite the blood and sweat streaming down his face. My wolf is riveted. The twisted little monster is into this. She wants popcorn.

Lochlan lunges. Killian kicks, driving his foot into the side of Lochlan’s knee. There’s a crack. Lochlan slams into the floor. Panting, Lochlan slowly raises himself. He has to do it like me—awkward and step-by-step. When he’s upright, Killian lets him land a few more shots. Now Lochlan understands what’s happening. His face is twisted with frustration, and he starts fighting dirty, aiming for the throat, the groin. Killian flip-shifts for split seconds at a time, easily avoiding the below the belt blows.

Lochlan throws a haymaker. Killian snaps a kick, slamming his bare foot into Lochlan’s other knee. It crunches. Lochlan topples to his side, and this time, he stays down, teeth grit, neck bared. “Get up,” Killian snarls. Lochlan bares his neck further. “Get up!” It’s a command. Lochlan has no choice.

“Gael?” “Yes, Alpha.” Everyone searches for the voice. I’d have thought he’d be in the infirmary, but he’s in his usual seat at B-roster table, though considerably worse for wear. His face is black and blue and swollen past all recognition. He’s upright, but he’s cradling his right arm to his chest. “There’s a seat open in A-roster.” Killian points to the metal folding chair across from Finn where Lochlan always sits. The pack mutters. For a moment, nothing happens. Then Gael’s seat screeches back, and he drags himself the few feet to resettle at the table of honor. Tye claps him on the back. He winces, but he smiles. He’s missing a tooth.

A bloodcurdling scream echoes from the rafters, and bone tears through flesh, a rain of red spurting through the air. My stomach heaves. My wolf howls in delight. Behind me, an elder, maybe Nuala, says, “He should’ve taken a knee. At least then he’d still have a working one.” “You don’t mess with defectives,” an old male opines. “That’s just plain wrong. Everyone knows that.” My wolf falls quiet, her glee deflating like a punctured tire. That’s me they’re talking about again. Us. Fuck this shit. Suddenly, a weight descends on my shoulders. I didn’t ask for this. Am I supposed to be impressed? Vindicated? ‘Here, Una, stand right here all alone by the elderly, and I’ll remind everyone not to pick on weak folks like you.’ Thanks, Alpha. My leg aches. Given, not as bad as Lochlan’s must right now, but I’ve had enough. I’m going home.

I force my spine to straighten, hike my chin, and give him my back as I leave the lodge. If I sway my hips—and I never sway my hips on purpose—but if I do, it’s my wolf. She’s smug as hell. She’s not the least bit humiliated. Good mate. Avenge. Protect. The little idiot. She’s got it all wrong.

Annie is going to do the run into town tomorrow, but honestly, I bet I could get away with going myself. Despite the present weirdness, I can’t imagine anyone would come looking for me during the day. Literally no male ever has. I really want this deal to work out. Crafts and such are a great side hustle, but mushrooms could be a real business. Everyone sells honey these days, but morels—they don’t grow on trees. I smirk at my own joke.

Why is the moon sometimes high and sometimes large and close? I’d search it on my phone, but I’m stingy with my data at the end of the month. I need it for work. If I use the mushroom money to get us unlimited plans, I could search whatever I want whenever I want. Moon facts. New herbs to grow. I could watch videos of the shifter fights.

A shiver slides down my spine, curling into my belly. I don’t like Killian but that doesn’t mean I can’t admire parts of him. I wish I was strong enough to kick Lochlan’s ass. And it’s not like Killian did that for me. He’s the alpha. Lochlan broke his rule about females and young. Killian was making an example of him. It wasn’t about me—no matter what my wolf thinks.

She was excited enough when he was doling out the beatdown. And there was a moment—when he delivered the first kick to Lochlan’s leg, and I figured out what he was doing. I got excited, too. Not sexually. But there were tingles. I know he didn’t do it for me, but that hopelessly naïve part of me that’s never grown up could pretend, for a second, that he’s our champion. Ours. And nobody better fuck with us.

There’s a howl from the porch right outside my window. My heart leaps into my throat. I snatch my hand back and snap my knees together. It’s him. Even without peeking through the curtain, I know. The window’s cracked. Oh, Fate. There’s no way he can’t smell my arousal. It’s thick in the air. Killian’s wolf howls again. Come outside. I scramble for resolve. My wolf is gonna bolt. She’s awake and on edge, and he’s so close, and she’s—I’m—so off center. So needy. There’s a scuffling at the window. He’s wedging his snout into the opening. Thank goodness the wood is old and swollen. The sash is not gonna budge. He growls in frustration, and then backs off to howl again. Let me in.

She plops herself down, and puts her snoot in the air. She’s ignoring him. More howls, so loud they shake the window pane. Come out. Come out. Come out. My wolf lets forth a series of yips and snarls. Go. Go to the other female. Go on. Go. Then, she daintily crosses her paws, rests her chin on them, and dramatically closes her eyes. No way. She’s pissed that he let Haisley rub up on him. I guess the rush of his dominance show has worn off, and she’s remembered that she has beef.

After a while, Mari and Annie come knocking on my door. Mari pokes her curly blonde head in, squinting toward the window. The moon reflects off Killian’s silver coat. He paces the porch, and his howls have become more plaintive. Almost grumbly. “How long is he going to do this?” she whispers. “I don’t know,” I whisper back. “Should we let him in?” “No!” Kennedy shouts from the other room. “Or at least gimme a minute!” “She’s hiding her consoles,” Annie explains, squeezing past Mari to come sit on the edge of my bed. I scoot over. “We’re not letting him in,” I reassure her.

My face flames. I step forward, holding out my shawl. “Here. You can, er, cover up.” He doesn’t move to take it. He stares at me, searching for something. I fight the compulsion to bend my neck. If I did, I’d be looking straight at his dick. How is he so confident? My face is on fire, and he’s just standing there in his birthday suit with a massive erection, lord of all he surveys. It’s a long, thick, ruddy erection. Not that I ogled him. Only for a second. I couldn’t miss it. It’s— I swallow. It’s notable. I noted it.

Killian grabs my elbow and leads me to the far corner of the porch. At the edge, he glances down. There’s no railing, and it’s maybe three feet off the ground. There’s a flower bed below. Purple allium and lavender and phlox. He seems to consider, and then he leaps down, grabs my hips, and before I can react, he sets me gently on the edge. Then he vaults to sit beside me. There are two big footprints in the flowers. “You crushed the phlox,” I say. “What’s phlox?” I point below us. The moon casts a spotlight on the blooms, the illumination turning the petals into glowing jewels. The scent of lavender rises from their broken stems. “Oh. My bad.”

I don’t know why I care what he thinks. He’s the one being weird.

We fall into an uncomfortable silence. If he’s waiting for me to say something, I’m at a loss. I already asked him what he wanted. Finally, he says, “I’m not your mate.” It hurts, but this time, it’s only a twinge. It passes quickly. I swear, my wolf snorts.

“But, ah, my wolf—apparently, he’s into your wolf.” He almost sounds embarrassed. Like his wolf’s a pervert or something. He’s such a dick. “She’s not interested.” I hike my chin. He’s quiet again. He stares down the path toward the commons. The lodge is still ablaze, but most of the cabins are dark. The families with young have long since put them to bed. “He won’t—” Killian clears his throat. “He won’t let me leave.” Oh. I dart a glance at his face. His jaw is rigid. His temple’s ticking.

Killian seems to read my mind. “My cabin’s straight down wind. Anyone approaches, I know.” Oh. “And I got the patrols overlapping up there.” He points to the crest of the ridge behind our cabin. I had no idea. Oh, shit. Why don’t we scent them? They can definitely smell us from that close. Kennedy smokes her pipe on the back deck. Killian cracks a slight grin. “We know you ladies cut loose sometimes up here.” “I—” He raises a hand. “Keep it up here, and we don’t have a problem.” “We didn’t—Why can’t we smell the patrols?” “If they didn’t have the sense to stand downwind, they wouldn’t make good scouts, would they?” I guess that’s true.

run in with Eamon and Lochlan was so unsettling. Males will be gross at dinner or at the swims after runs, but they don’t corner us. I don’t understand what he’s getting at, though. “You’re safe,” he says again, emphatic. He glances over at me, his eyes intense. “So why can’t I leave?” I blink. He wants me to answer? I don’t know. “Well, maybe your wolf—” He cuts me off. “It’s not just my wolf.” He sort of pounds his chest once with his fist. “I can’t leave.” “Oh.”

“Well, um, we are perfectly safe here. Like you pointed out.” I sniff the breeze. “I don’t smell anything.” He inhales, and his eyes drift shut. He groans softly. “I do.” Now he blinks. He glares at me, tense, frustrated. “You smell like bread.” “Thank you?”

“Maybe you should come back to my cabin,” he says. His voice lowers. His expression is somehow less alpha. It’s not exactly friendly, but he’s set aside the usual domineering bluntness. He’s trying for charm. It doesn’t quite work, but it’s interesting to see. I’ve seen him look at females at the lodge like this, late at night. Then they follow him outside. “No.” I swallow past the tightness in my throat. “It’ll be good. I’ll do you, too, if you want.” What does that mean?

It’s the place left when Ma no longer brushes your hair for a hundred strokes. When Pa’s no longer there for you to rest your head on his furry belly and scratch behind his ears. It’s raw, always—still—and Killian’s touch exposes it and soothes it at the same time. It’s what I needed. What I missed. And the thoughts don’t make sense, but it doesn’t matter because I’m rapt. He draws his nose along the side of mine and then kisses my forehead. His hands stroke over my shoulders and down my back. He draws me closer. My fingers land on his bare chest. It’s hot to the touch.

He smooths my hair, dropping a kiss to my hairline, the tip of my nose. I sigh and cling tighter, winding my arms around his neck, lifting myself so I can kiss him back. This is perfect. This is designed. This can make up for it all if I let go, if I just give in to the mysterious swirling rising inside me.