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

by Cate C. Wells

I dig my fingers into the bunched muscles of his shoulders and lift up. This is too slow motion. I know what I need. He knows too, that’s why he matches me, urges me closer, cradles my neck in his palm. I lick his mouth, and when he parts his lips, I devour him. I clutch him, plastering my breasts to his hard chest, inhaling with him because he’s air, he’s home, he’s everything.

He folds his arms around me, tight, and rubs my lower back, soothing me and murmuring, “You taste so good, baby. Let’s go back to my place. We’ll get this out of our systems.” Yes. That’s the best idea.

We need space. So I can put things in order, and we can touch all over, and we can—get this out of our systems. My brain crashes headfirst into the words. There’s almost an audible tire screech. Hold up. Wait a minute. I’m the only one swept away here. He’s in full control. He’s smirking, self-satisfied, tugging the shawl where it’s bunched under my thigh. Oh, hell. I’m making a fool of myself.

I tell the roomies all the time—just because this pack treats us as less than doesn’t make it true. But no matter how much I tell myself that, no matter how far I’ve gotten from the “poor lone female” mentality, here I am, my lonely orphaned self, clinging to the alpha, desperate to feel less abandoned. This is more humiliating than the briar patch. “Nothing. I want you to leave. Just go.” His brow furrows. “My wolf does, too,” I add like that’ll help.

“Una. Look at me.” My name on his lips stokes the strange excitement in my chest, and it doesn’t make sense. I’m hurt. Bristling. And awake and aware in a way I’ve never been before, not even on a full moon. I jerk my head no. He sighs in exasperation and paces a few feet away. “You gotta tell me what’s going on in your head. I’m not a mind reader.” It comes out so easily. He’s definitely said this to a female before. My wolf growls and tosses her head. I’m with her. “No, I don’t,” I say to the weathered porch boards. “I didn’t come to your house. I didn’t howl outside your window. I didn’t start any of this, and I—” My voice breaks just a little. “I don’t have any problem leaving.”

I stop mid-stride and take a deep breath. I’m not going to run away like I’m scared. I force myself to look him in the eye. “I’m not your mate. You said so yourself, and you’re the alpha. And I don’t want a ‘with benefits’ kind of thing. Or any kind of thing with you.” “What’s ‘with benefits?’” he asks. “And you’re not in my system.” “Hold up. Go back. What benefits?” “There aren’t any. That’s what I’m saying. You do your thing, and I’ll do mine, and just, just—get off my damn porch.”

“What’s he doing?” Kennedy elbows Mari away so she can see for herself. “Staring at the moon.” They’re all looking to me, but I don’t know what to say. “I think he’s guarding us. He’ll probably go home in a little bit.” They seem skeptical. “What do we do?” Annie asks. “Go to bed. I’m sure everything will go back to normal in the morning.”

But there’s a new rawness in me, beneath the confusion and hurt. My wolf is so confident in Killian’s wolf. She’s snoozing now, perfectly happy and assured that he’s miserable. Killian’s rejected me a handful of times at this point. But he’s sitting in human form on my porch.

I turned him down, but he didn’t get angry. He didn’t force the issue. And he didn’t stick us out here in this cabin because we don’t belong. He did it to protect us. I do remember what it was like, even though the memory feels much longer ago than it actually was. I remember the Butlers and the Campbells forbidding me to walk anywhere alone.

Then Killian came to power, and overnight, the rules were different. He burned the picnic table behind the commissary. The unprotected females were moved to this cabin. Why did he change things? I’d like to know, but I can’t imagine asking. Even after tonight. The kissing. He’s alpha. I’m a lone female. We’re never going to talk like equals. On the most primal level, we aren’t.

When the sun rises, he’s gone, a pile of plucked lavender next to where he sat. I sweep them into the flower bed before the others wake up, and I can’t stop my lips from curving. The alpha of Quarry Pack slept on my porch. And he took my shawl when he left.

Una is sleeping. She doesn’t say much when she’s awake, but she was mumbling and cooing all night long. Except for when she woke up and checked to see if I was still out here. My wolf woke me. He wanted me to make a move. He doesn’t realize we both got shut down hard. Obviously, I said the wrong thing. I don’t claim to know how to sweet talk. I don’t have to, and I prefer to be straightforward.

I can scent Una from here. She smells drowsy and soft like she’s fresh from the oven. Her essence wafts through the cabin walls, through the gaps in the door and window frames. When’s the last time we had the maintenance crew up here to check the insulation? We’re not so flush with cash that we can afford to heat the whole damn camp. And she must get cold when the wind blows down from the hills. She needs to be in our bed. Reaching for us when she wakes up, hungry and demanding like she was for that too brief moment last night.

She’s not my mate. I would know. I’m sure as hell not in love. I never have been. I fight. I lead. I don’t sniff after females like Tye. If I were to fall in love, she’d be an alpha. A badass with big ol’ titties. Una’s no badass. I mean, she’s all right. Even though she kind of went nuts there for a minute, she’s got good sense. For years, she’s kept the drama to a minimum and the other lone females off the radar. And I’m grateful for it.

But she’s not my mate. Yet, for some reason, all of a sudden, I want to fuck her so bad I can taste it. The mate bond is deeper than that, though. Right? The bond is a flower, rooted in two souls, blossoming with the first onset of a female’s heat. Or some such shit. I don’t pay a lot of attention during worship. I need answers. Which means I gotta go see the crone. Not my favorite thing. She speaks in riddles, and she always wants me to drink tea.

I nod at his face. “You look like you got run over by a Mack truck.” His nose isn’t gonna be the same. Looks better now. It’s got character. “Worth it,” he says. “Yeah?” “Now I get served first at meals, don’t I?” He grins. A few teeth haven’t grown back yet. “My drumstick and leg days are over. It’s only breasts and thighs from here on out.”

“I’ve got shit to do. Watch the cabin.” “Okay.” He goes to make himself comfortable on the porch. My wolf growls. This is our territory now. “From over there.” I point back to the woods he was skulking in. “Seriously?” My wolf rumbles. I don’t bother answering.

Fates, a few minutes necking with Una Hayes was the most intense sexual experience of my life. Given, I’ve never actually fucked a female, but I’ve gotten my dick sucked plenty, and I’ve been getting hand jobs from alpha groupies since junior high. And it’s fine. It takes the edge off. But it’s never been like this. I’ve never wanted to be inside so bad before. And I wanted. Hell, I needed. And then I opened my dumb mouth. But she’s not my mate. Though I’m less certain of that each time I think it.

And also, I’ve never felt the need. Until now. I want to take Una Hayes to my bedroom, watch her build a nest on my bed, fuss and straighten and toss sheets around. And then I want her to present. Call to me over her shoulder. Press her round tits with the saucer nipples to the mattress and hike that thick ass in the air. I want my cock slick with her cream. I want to dig my fingers into those hips, leave red half-moons in her pale skin as I drag her back to take me. I want to feel how hot she is inside. How tight. How those muscles feel when they clench. When they spasm. Oh, Fate. I gotta get out of here before I end up jerking off again.

The narrow passage she made opens to almost a burrow. The scents smack my nose. Heat. Slick. Blood. Fuck. My wolf licks the matted stems. He howls. He circles the nest, nosing everything, flustered. Upset. It’s been strange lately, his feelings separate from mine, but in this, we’re of one mind. This is wrong. There’s a sense of loss. A memory that floats just out of reach. A word stuck on the tip of our tongue. She was alone here, in pain and need, and where were we?

The wolf snarls and howls, but when I don’t bend, he changes tack. He starts digging, furiously scrambling at the dirt, covering the stems soaked in Una’s scent. Like we’re hiding a crime. This isn’t right. But he won’t leave until he’s obliterated the evidence of whatever happened here. And even then, I have to drag him away. He rages at me while I force his paws further from camp, step by step. It’s like dragging a semi.

“Is there a reason you’re busting my balls?” I say after swallowing. The crone laughs, and she comes to sit across from me. She breaks a cookie in half and begins nibbling. “Besides entertainment value?” She leans back in her chair. “I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine first.” “Fine. Shoot.”

“Fane staggered over and punted the baby’s basket.” The crone sneers in disgust. “He would have stomped his own child to death if not for Una Hayes. She put her little body between Thomas Fane’s wolf and that baby, and she nearly died. She would have.” Abertha pins me with blazing eyes. “Except?” “Except for Killian Kelly. The alpha’s nine-year-old son. He raced to the rescue, and on his way, he shifted for the first time. His wolf was a beast. He rent Thomas Fane limb from limb. It took Declan Kelly and three enforcers to drag him away from the corpse.”

“Bullshit.” That’s the kind of story that gets told at every bonfire. I’ve never heard it before. And I sure as shit don’t remember it happening. “If the pack knew you shifted before your heat, you’d have a target on your back. Your father knew this. The others wouldn’t wait for him to die to challenge you. And you might have a beast inside you, but in human form, you were seventy pounds soaking wet. Eamon or Dermot or anyone with ambition could’ve easily beat you so many times, no one would’ve looked at you and seen a possible alpha. You’d be out as a contender before you could grow a beard. So your father swore his enforcers to secrecy, and it was never spoken of again.” “My father would have told me about it.” “Would he?”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t bring that bullshit into my house. That’s just how backwards folk justify behaving like animals to each other.” “Don’t tell the elders that. They’ll burn you at the stake.” She snorts. “Not a single one of those mouth breathers could catch me when they were in their prime.”

“Listen, I came with a question. Are you gonna answer it? Is Una Hayes my mate?” “You honestly can’t tell.” Her brow creases. There’s pity in her gray eyes. “Yes. She was.” Every muscle tightens, and I push back, the chair screeching on the hard wood. “What do you mean—was?” “Sounds like she told you. I pulled the mate bond out of her.” I bound to my feet. “You what?” My wolf is choking my voice. The words come out a garbled growl.

“You knew this. She told you she was your mate. You rejected her. She told you I fixed it. You must have found her nest in the woods. I can scent traces of her heat on you. You know all of this. But you’re deaf to it. Because you are getting in your own way.” My clenched fists shake. Fur has sprouted up my spine, and my bones are stretching, my muscles swelling. “Your wolf recognizes his mate,” she says. “I am my wolf.” The crone tuts. “Don’t start lying to yourself now, Alpha. Your wolf and you are like that mutt Eamon lets his mate keep in the backyard. You coexist.”

“Why didn’t I feel the bond when she shifted?” “Do you let yourself feel anything?”

“You pulled the mate bond out of her?” I spit the question through elongated fangs. “What would you have had me do? You scented her nest. She was in pain.” “You had no right.” She laughs, and it is bitter. “Don’t talk to me of rights. Una claimed you, and did you stop for a second to consider someone else knew a truth you didn’t? You’ve grown arrogant, Alpha. You think you can’t move this pack forward because they’re too stubborn, but pup, you need to attend to the mote in your own eye.” “I didn’t come for a lecture.” “You came for me to tell you what Una already did. Why take my word over hers?” My back teeth clench so hard they ache. “You do not have the right to take my mate from me.” “You have no claim over something you so carelessly threw away.”

“Put the bond back.” I instill each word with alpha command. “I don’t know how.” My wolf howls, shaking the rafters, making himself known. The crone narrows her eyes. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t do it.” “Put it back!” I slam the table. The tea cups rattle, and a crack appears in the solid wood. “I can’t, but I’ll make you an offer.” Her lips curl. “I’ll take the bond out of you, too.” My hand flies to my chest. It feels no different. There’s no pulse, no burning fire like the mated males describe. There’s—silence. “I assure you, it’s there.” The crone calmly sips her tea. “You can’t feel the blood coursing in your veins, either, but it’s there all the same.” “No.” The suggestion itself has my claws drawn.

“I am not my father.” “No, you’re not. So since you don’t want her, let her go. Let her be happy with someone else.” “Who?” It’s a snarl. She waves her hand. “Relax. I’m talking theoretically.” “You’re playing Fate.” “And you don’t, Alpha?”

“There’s no way to reverse what you have done?” She crosses her legs and smooths her slacks. “I didn’t say that. I said I didn’t know how.” “You have cost me my young, witch.” “You cost yourself. It’s your head that’s stuck up your ass.” My wolf rumbles, and she hurries to add, “And we don’t know that for sure. You could always, I don’t know, woo her. The moon works in mysterious ways.” “Woo her?” “You know. Dates. Flowers.” “That’s human shit.”

I glance out the window at the packed car. “You’re leaving?” “I am.” “Stay gone.” “You’re exiling me?” She arches an eyebrow. “I’m advising you. You can come back when my mate’s belly is round with my young.” She laughs and moves to clear the cups from the table. “You always were confident.” “I have always had cause to be.”

The crone pauses and cranes her neck to search my eyes. It’s the closest to a bent neck I’ll ever get from her. “You really don’t remember, do you?” “Remember what?” Her brow furrows. “I don’t think I should tell you. I don’t want to get in the way of the Fates.” I snort. “Crone, you’re full of shit.” She shrugs. “It’s hard to know what’s helping and what’s meddling. There’s no rule book.”

“Stay gone,” I tell the crone’s back as she turns on the faucet to rinse our dishes. “I do what I want,” she tosses over her shoulder. I know when to tap out, so I toss my shorts on a bench, head out the door, and let my wolf take our skin.

Gael isn’t where I left him. Jaime’s there. He’s wandered up on the ridge behind the cabin, squatting on a rock, playing on his phone. I leap and knock it from his hands while I shift back to my skin. “Where’s Una?” Jaime scrambles to his feet. “Down there.” “No, she isn’t.” I smell Mari. Annie. Kennedy. That’s it.

“I swear, Alpha. I’ve been here an hour. No one’s left.” “Where’s Gael?” “Lochlan wanted him in the gym to spar with Finn. He sent me to take his place.” What the fuck? Jaime bends to get his phone, but before he can, I stomp it with my heel. It cracks. Doesn’t make me feel better. Where the hell’s my mate? And what the fuck is Lochlan playing at?

“Where is she?” “Don’t tell him,” Kennedy says at the exact same time the other two sob, “Chapel Bell.” I roar, the wolf coursing up my throat. I swallow him down. There will be time for rage. Later. After I have my mate in hand. There’s a footstep behind me. The females peek up. Jaime clears his throat. His scent is in my female’s space. Oh, hell, no.

But I want the money. More than I ever have before. These past few days, I’ve been yanked this way and pulled that. My body does what it wants. My wolf. I want my life back. The one where I’m in charge.

My jar is knocked from my hands, and it falls to the sidewalk, shattering. Killian’s tan work boots land on the mushrooms, crushing them into pulp, as he bounds to loom over the human, fangs bared, claws unsheathed. Screams pierce the air. There’s the scent of piss. ShroomForager3000 scrambles backwards like a crab. My mushrooms are brown goo. There are a handful intact, but they glitter with glass shards. Morels have so many ridges, even if I soak and rinse them, I can’t be sure to get them clean. They are all ruined. Three hundred dollars, down the drain. No unlimited data. No mushroom farm. Nothing. All that time, gathering and drying, scouring the online forums, wasted. Finding this creep. Listening to his creepy proposition. And I’ve got nothing. My eyes prickle, hot with tears.

He’s an enraged alpha. I should drop to my knees and simper, neck bared, but I don’t. I don’t care that my wolf is baring her neck and practically mewling. My hands curl into tight fists. He destroyed my mushrooms, and he doesn’t even care.

“Stand,” Killian commands. “Fight me.” ShroomForager3000 shakes his head hard, waxed beard swaying as a whole. “No way, dude. I didn’t know the shrooms were yours, man. If I had known, I wouldn’t have made an offer, hand to God.” He raises his hand. “I don’t want any trouble.” Killian just stands there, growling. My wolf whimpers, and in the silence, it resonates in my own throat.

ShroomForager3000 glances at me. “You don’t look at her.” Killian steps to the side to block me from view, puffing his chest, broadening his stance. “Whatever you say, man. You’re the guy with the fangs.” Killian looks at me. “You smell—afraid? But also like you’re gonna puke? Why?” I’m not telling him about the invitation to get in the shroom van. I loathe the dude, but I don’t want him dead. So I don’t say anything. “Una?” Killian’s voice is louder. I stare at the brown fungi slush with the footprint. Killian huffs in exasperation. My nose is burning now. I’m gonna cry. In front of humans.

From the corner of my eye, I see the woman from the souvenir stand slowly approach, her hands raised, the bangles on her wrist clinking. “Hey, Una. What’s going on over here?” A siren wails in the distance. The humans have called their enforcers. I’m not going to be able to come back. Everything ...

I scrub my face with my sleeve and sniff back the tears. “I’m leaving. Don’t worry. He won’t hurt the human. It’s against pack law.” And Killian is pack law. He decides, and it is so. I’m not his mate. I belong to him. Whatever he says. My nails dig into the flesh of my palms. It’s not fair. None of this is. And I’m not standing here a moment longer with humans staring at me. Pitying me.

And yet, every step I take, his scent dogs my heels. I want to scrub it out of my nose. I reach for the door handle, and his hand is there, blocking me. He’s crowding me, his chest pressed to my back, his breath on my neck. “Keys,” he says. They’re in my backpack. I don’t want to hand them over. I want him to die and fall in a deep hole and go flying out the other side of the world. I want someone to ruin everything he worked for. I want him to have to ask permission and sneak around and hustle for every penny because he doesn’t have a choice.

I’m frozen, not like ice, but like stone. Because if I ease my grip on myself, even the smallest bit, I’ll burst into flames and burn him down. I’ll go for his jugular—and I know I’m no match for him, and I’ll end up humiliated again. Knocked down. Again. He ruined everything. With one shove. That’s all. He didn’t even notice the crushed mushrooms.

The girls and I have a brand. Cottage Industry. That’s what we’ve decided to call ourselves. Kennedy’s designing us a logo. We had a purpose and reason to get excited about the day. And Killian Kelly comes in like a wrecking ball and takes it all away without blinking, and there is nothing I can do about it.

I’m a hostage. He rules everyone and everything I love. My fists are shaking. He circles the hood and hops in. Somehow, he gets the truck to start on the first try. He puts his arm behind me while he reverses, and it’s all I can do not to rip it off and beat him with it. What am I going to tell the girls? No farmer’s market means no money. No phones. No hotspots. No games for Kennedy and Fallon. No music and fancy shoes for Mari. Nothing to make life bearable. Nothing to look forward to. I hate his guts.

He’s glowering, all put out because I broke his rules. That’s the worst thing that can happen to him. Somebody gets a little out of line. Maybe earns a little something for themselves that he didn’t provide. He’s such a big man, he has to keep everyone else small. “You go...