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.

He took my slingshot and tucked it in his back pocket. And he left his earbuds and watch in my bag on purpose.

But then, by some miracle, the feeling ebbs, and she lets out a wolfish snort. I swear, she says, “His loss.”

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.

Rosie’s unguarded eyes are dark brown. Mahogany. When she came to me in the cafeteria, it was like sun shining on polished wood.

I love him he’s actually so sweet 😭😭

“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.

And on the other side, Brynn Owen taps a Hughes on the shoulder and switches spots so she’s right across from me. Shit.

GIRL IF YOU DONT FUCK THIS BITCH UP

“Scavengers don’t whore for rank, bitch. We whore for cash and goods.” Nia lifts her upper lip to show her descended fangs. “Only nobs are stupid enough to fuck for recognition. You can’t trade ‘he let me sit next to him at lunch’ for anything.”

“You tell Cadoc—if you can understand me at all—you tell him to leave me alone. We’re done. It’s finished.”

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?

Cadoc kisses me feverishly, my forehead, my neck, my clavicle. He grabs my arm, dislodges my grip on his back, and raises my hand to his mouth, squeezing my fingers tight as he kisses my knuckles, my wrist, the tip of my thumb.

awww 😭💖