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

by Cate C. Wells

Scavengers, by nature, treasure small things. A bottle cap. A word. An act of common decency. That’s why we’re at the bottom of the pack. We don’t care about the big, important things that matter to the nobs.

My mate, the future alpha, rejected me in front of the entire school, and I could probably eat him in three bites. Well, damn. Ain’t Fate a bitch.

I’m the alpha heir. My word is law. Everyone does what I want—except me.

“You don’t know how to go about doing it, but you insist I could if I just tried.” She clicks her cheek. “That’s called gaslighting.”

Before I drift off, I hear a pup say through the thin trailer wall, “Why does it smell like wood?” “That’s Cadoc Collins,” Rosie murmurs in reply. “He smells nice.” “So does cyanide,” she says.

Nia raises her hands in the air. “If you shift and eat me, Rosie Kemble, I will carve my way out of your stomach like Jonah and the whale.”

My dignity was just peeled off me, and turns out, I’ve got strong bones inside, not a squishy center. I hold onto that, wind the knowledge tight like a tourniquet.

Rosie isn’t the scavenger who is my mate, the female who I can’t claim—she’s air. And I thought I could hold my breath forever?

I learned that “squeamish” comes through the bond.

I am the things my mate is not. I know the things he doesn’t know. He needs me.

Cadoc’s eyes flit to mine and back to the crowd. “I am your alpha, as I am her mate. I deserve neither, but I claim both.”