So I grit my teeth.
“Do you understand?” he repeats, taking a step closer until his shadow falls on my face. My bonkers wolf gets excited. Like joyful excited.
I’m supposed to say yes. If I’m really cowed, I’m supposed to throw in a yes, Alpha.
I don’t want to.
He already won. I got smacked down, and I’m not claiming him as my mate anymore. But he needs a pound of flesh, too? Total submission?
My skin tingles, and hidden in the folds of my skirt, I ball my fists.
I hate him.
I hate that he gets whatever he wants, and does whatever he wants, and everyone shows him their neck and kisses his ass, and he still needs to stand here in front of my home and call me crazy and stupid.
I was alone in a thicket—my eyes burn. Nope. Not gonna go back there. Not with him so close that I can smell him. It’s such a sweet scent, but nothing special. Nothing I can’t get in a candle or scented dryer sheet.
I am fine now. Heat was a bad fever dream.
“Una.” He grabs my chin and forces me to meet his eyes. “What’s wrong with you?”
I try to jerk from his grasp, but his fingers dig in. I let out the smallest whimper. Almost a hiccup. Out of nowhere, a growl explodes from his chest. Really loud. So loud there’s movement in the cabin and a curtain flutters. Probably Mari and Annie. I bet they’ve been eavesdropping this whole time.
Killian drops his hand to his side.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask, rubbing my face. It doesn’t hurt at all, but it’s the principle. Dick.
He seems—thrown. Like the growl took him by surprise, too.
“Can I go now?” I ask.
“No. Stay.” He raises his hand, slow and tentative, his forehead furrowed. He stares at me. My nerves sizzle. Then, with the lightest touch, he traces my jawline. Two rough fingers graze my cheek, his thumb caressing my neck. Shivers and tingles race through me, straightening my spine, seizing my lungs, curling my toes.
My wolf purrs, low and languid, and rolls onto her back, exposing her belly.
The little fool.
He stares at my lips. I nibble the bottom one. It’s instinct.
He stiffens. A vein pulses at his temple. His wolf’s rumble kicks up until it sounds like an engine.
Killian gently tilts my head from side to side.
“I didn’t hurt you,” he murmurs.
That’s such a lie. For so many reasons.
“Alpha!” A voice booms from the head of the path. Eamon, Lochlan, and Finn. The three douche-kateers. I step back, but Killian’s already dropped his hand and turned toward them.
He holds up a finger. “Gimme one.”
Then he rounds back to me, face hardened. Cold.
He grabs my chin again. “Don’t leave the commons.”
“What? Why—”
“You don’t ask questions. You say, “Yes, Alpha.”
He raises an eyebrow and waits.
He can wait all freakin’ day. Dick.
I stare at the dirt path.
The males whisper amongst themselves.
Finally, Lochlan calls, “Alpha, you want us to go on ahead?”
Killian lets go of my face with a very slight shove.
“You attacked a packmate without provocation.” He steps back, squaring his shoulders. “You’re probably halfway to moon mad. You stay in the commons until I tell you that you can leave.”
I’m grounded. Like a pup.
White-hot fury fills me as he strides off without a backwards glance. The males greet him like they didn’t just see him yesterday, slapping his back, falling in behind him. I eat the rage. You have to if you want to live in Quarry Pack. If you let yourself really feel the injustices, your day is ruined, and I’ve got things to do. A mushroom deal to confirm.
Behind me, the door creaks open.
“Una? Are you okay?” Mari whispers, even though they’ve already disappeared down the path.
“I’m fine,” I lie as I seize the banister and mount the first stair, hauling my bum leg up after.
“Do you need help?”
“I’ve got it.” Stairs take me a second, but I can do them no problem. It’s steep declines that suck.
When I get inside, all my roommates are huddled on the sofa. They’ve been snooping.
“What did the alpha want?” Kennedy asks.
“Are you exiled?” Annie worries the hem of her shirt.
“Why would I be exiled?”
“For attacking Haisley.”
“There is literally a fight every night during dinner.” Killian usually picks the competitors, but brawls break out often enough that my point holds.
“But you claimed him as your—” Annie glances around the rooms as if someone might overhear. “Mate.”
“Yeah.”
All three females are staring at me, Mari’s blue eyes swimming with concern, Annie trembling, Kennedy’s arms crossed, cranky as always. Kennedy is twenty-three, but she never grew out of the phase where she thinks everything and everyone is bullshit—always—in every way. If I had to pick, she’s my favorite.
My young roomies want an explanation.
I sigh.
I flop down in the armchair. “I made a mistake, okay?”
“So he’s not your mate?” Mari asks.
I shrug. I don’t want to lie to them. Not if I don’t have to.
“You can’t reject your mate,” Annie says.
“I guess you can.”
Annie’s face contorts in horror. A lot of her anxiety manifests around the mate thing. She’s terrified that she’ll never find him, or she’ll mate with a male thirty years younger or something.
I used to be tormented by the same late-night thoughts. Maybe my mate died as a pup. Maybe he’s a male from the Last Pack, and I’ll never meet him because he’s living in a den somewhere as a wolf twenty-four seven. Maybe Fate miscounted and had one female left over when she paired everyone up.
Maybe there’s something wrong with me that makes me fundamentally unlovable.
There’s so much to be afraid of that’s totally beyond your control. But I was lucky. I discovered the farmer’s market. There’s no time to worry about males when you need to harvest enough honey to fill the orders for the Pumpkin Festival.
That’s not going to be much comfort to Annie. She’s got to find her own farmer’s market, so to speak.
For now, her fear of dying alone is stinking up the place.
“Your mate isn’t going to reject you.” I muster the most reassuring smile I can.
We all know there’s no way of knowing, but—shifters are superstitious. Say it and it will be so. And I’m older. Strange as it is, they look up to me.
“Oh, Una. I’m so sorry.” Mari’s lip wobbles.
“I’m not. Who wants to be mated to Killian Kelly?”
Kennedy shudders. “I’m not sure if he smells like the gym, or if the gym smells like him.”
“He yells a lot,” Annie adds.
“And all the females always talk about his dick.” Mari wrinkles her nose, disapproving.
My wolf snarls. She can pipe down. It’s the truth. Killian’s a manwhore. It’s nothing to us.
“I heard his wolf had his first kill when he was only nine years old,” Mari says.
“That’s impossible.” Males don’t shift until puberty, just like females. I didn’t appreciate until now how much physical stamina it takes to move from one form to the other. There’s no way a pup could do it.