The Heir Apparent's Rejected Mate (Five Packs, #2)

by Cate C. Wells

No. I don’t accept that.

There’s a moment when my wolf considers her, and she searches his eyes. Something flashes across her inscrutable face—recognition? Pity? I can’t tell. I would beg her if I was in my human form, but my wolf doesn’t bend his neck. He waits. As if she’s known to him, an old ally of some kind.

And I hate Cadoc Collins for being no more than what you’d expect, so I hate myself for being stupid.

He doesn’t look like himself. He’s grown a beard, and it’s trimmed, but not well. It hides his mouth.

He stares at me, motionless, as if I’m the interloper. Like he’s waiting for me to say something.

What the hell is he doing here now? I squeeze my folded arms tight. “You can fuck right off.”

“I don’t want it.” Something is working itself through my veins, something burning, not a blush, a poison. “I don’t want you. I hate you.”

He lets me hit him, and it doesn’t hurt him, not at all. I burst into hot tears. He finally moves, his arm raises, hand hovering, like he’s afraid to touch me. I slam my open palms into his chest, try to push him away, knock him back, just an inch. I’d take an inch.

“I hate you. I don’t want you. No one wants you. All you are is an empty skin. There’s nothing in there.” I slam my palm into the place his heart should be. “You have no use. No use.” And finally, he flinches.

“I’m never going to leave you again,” he says as if that’s the final word, turns and walks back to the fire where he squats and pokes it with a stick.

He doesn’t look like himself. It puts me on edge.

If he was going to drag me right back, he wouldn’t bother building a fire, right?

He looks so weird with a beard. Less imitation human and more shifter. Like a lone wolf.

Cadoc Collins has never been alone. He’s had an entourage since he learned to walk.

“I’m not going back to Moon Lake.” He nods. “We can stay here.” “We’re not doing anything. You can get the hell out of here.” He nods again. He’s not taking me seriously.

I breathe through the urge, resting my hands on my lower belly, not entirely conscious of the gesture until his gaze tracks it and the bond comes alive with energy. “No,” I say. “Don’t.” I draw my knees up to my chest. It’s a reflex. Protect the pup. He exhales, his nostrils flaring, his gaze dropping to the fire.

“I’ve been here.” He says it in such a matter-of-fact way that it takes a second to sink in. “How long?” “I found you the day after you got here.” When I don’t say anything—what can I say?—he goes on. “I cleared the predators out of a three-mile radius, established a perimeter, patrolled, laid down scent.”

“I located fresh water sources. Scouted defensible terrain. Identified natural shelters. You picked well by setting up here.” I don’t want warmth to spread through my chest. He can shove his compliments. He doesn’t even know how to start a campfire.

“I made a choice. I chose you.”

“It came down to a choice between you and the pack. I chose you.”

“You’re more important.” He lifts a shoulder. “The most important.”

“I figured you were too mad.” “But now, today, you decide to pop in?” “Yeah?” I blink. “Why?” He shrugs. “I don’t know. I decided you probably weren’t going to get less mad.”

I bet my wolf recognized that he was here all along. That’s why she’s been happy to lounge around and admire the little bean in my belly. My hand floats there, and instantly, Cadoc’s eyes drop. I can tell he wants to ask something.

“Why am I important?” I hug his jacket close and shrink into it so the only part of me exposed is my nose on up. “Because of the pup? Are you going to try to convince me to hand it over to you?”

“Rosie, I have no goddamn idea what to do with a pup.” “Give it to your parents.” He shakes his head, a short, emphatic ‘no.’ “They had their shot. No way in hell do they get another with our pup.” Our pup. “I’ll kill you if you try to take it from me.” “I won’t. And I won’t let anyone else.”

“Is that why you came out here? To protect the pup?” “Why’d you think?” “Because you hate me.” “Well, that too.”

His patient good guy act should be irritating as hell, but for some reason, I’m not feeling as salty as I’m acting. I’ve been so lonely and scared. Even though he’s the enemy, in this moment, he’s also the only other soul in the middle of nowhere.

We’ve got an entire field. He doesn’t need to be pressed against my side.

He’s not expecting a bent neck—which is good since he’s not getting one.

Is Cadoc actually interested in me? Of course he is. I’m the vagina Fate served up to him on a silver platter.

“It means you couldn’t trust me before. You can now.” “Why would I?” “You’ll see,” he says.

He’s embarrassed. He’s capable of embarrassment. This is freaking delightful.

“You can’t bite me now. It’s too late.” He drops a soft kiss on a straining tendon. “Okay, not now. Later.”

“I’m going to make everything okay for you and our pup,” he says. “I’m going to rescue our people.” “Okay,” I murmur.

“Our baby.” He takes my hand, weaves his fingers through mine, and rests his palm back on the slight swell. “Yours and mine.” His voice is awed. My wolf yawns in contentment. Finally, I’m cuddled in a den in my mate’s arms.

Cadoc glances up at me. “But what really depended on me? Nothing. Except you.” He holds my gaze. “You’re my pack. You’re the only important thing.”

I want to ask how, but my brain’s caught on how attentive he is to every little thing I do. I move, and his eyes dart, predatorial but patient. He’s not annoyed that I’m interrupting. My playful wolf comes out. Without warning, I plop my butt on his lap. He sucks in a breath. “Am I squishing you?” “No.” His reply is immediate. After a beat, he takes my hips and drags me back until I’m flush with his chest. It’s not an aggressive move. More like he’s securing me in place.

mine, and shivers dance across my skin. “What are you doing, Rosie?” He’s not warning me off. I know because the arm holding me tightens, and I feel a poke in the cleft of my bottom. I wriggle. His wolf growls low in the back of his throat. All my nerves sparkle. “Flirting like a nob. How am I doing?” He buries his nose in the crook of my neck, inhaling, then groaning. “Perfect.” My face is flaming, but I don’t care.

“But it didn’t make sense. The only truly good thing I’ve ever known is you.”

On my way to the fire, I swish my ass back-and-forth like Arly does when she wears her skintight mini-dress, and I smile to myself when the clicks fall silent.

Darragh nods. He’s careful to remain still, his ripped arms hanging purposefully loose at his sides. “Are you well, Rosie Collins?” he asks, his deep voice rusty. No one’s called me that before. I’m not claimed. “Rosie Kemble,” I mumble. “Collins,” Cadoc corrects.

“Darragh’s wolf is bronze and copper, like his eyes. He’s yay high.” Cadoc holds his hand level with my shoulder. “And he’s moon mad. If you see his wolf, run. The man isn’t inside.” Cadoc’s gaze bores into me. “O-Okay,” I stammer.

Cadoc Collins loves me. No, more than that. I animate him. In this moment, he is fully alive, and I’m in awe. I reach up with my free hand to trace his firm jaw. “Mine,” I whisper.

He swallows and compresses his lips. I know what he wants. What he’s asking. I think I’m already his, though. And he’s already mine. “Please,” he says, gruff and deep. I nod, and I turn my head. “Yours,” I agree. With a growl from his wolf, he sinks his fangs into my neck, claiming me. I whimper in pain, and his distress floods the bond.

“Where’s yours?” Bevan asks Cadoc, grinning. Our bond twinges. I know he wants me to claim him back. When we’re in the nest, he gives me plenty of opportunities. After we mate, he’ll haul me on top of his chest and cradle my head in the crook of his neck as he strokes my spine.

I don’t really understand what I’m waiting for, but I’m waiting for something. I trust myself. I’ll know when it’s right. But I don’t like that Cadoc hurts, and not only because it hurts me through the bond. Cadoc is pack now in a way he wasn’t before. We are a pack of two, bite or no bite.

Cadoc’s eyes find and lock onto mine, and as the steadiness of his gaze clears my mind, the bond begins to run clear. The fear is diluted until it’s gone, calm determination in its place. Cadoc isn’t thrown. He’s been preparing for this. He saw it coming.

“You’ll protect me.” It’s the truth. I’m certain of it in my bones. “I will.” “You’ll help my people?” That, I don’t know. “Our people,” he says. And it’s not a promise or a vow, it’s more than that. It’s a claiming. “Okay.” I squeeze his hand.

We feel like a unit. A pack.

The scavengers are looking at us like we’re going to do something. Like we have to. Their fear and anxiety and hope and rage crush down on me like a mantle, and I’m terrified that my bones will just crumble under the weight. Is this how Cadoc feels? How he’s felt his whole life?