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

“We’re not letting him in,” I reassure her.

If he shifted to his human skin, he could barge right in. He’s alpha; we couldn’t stop him. And honestly, he could easily break our door down in wolf form. Or come through the window.

But he doesn’t. He trots back and forth, growling, casting aggrieved looks at the cabin every now and then.

Mari joins us, sliding under the covers. When Killian first moved us to the cabin, she was only eleven, and she’d come looking for midnight snuggles a lot. She hasn’t done that in a long time.

“How much trouble are we in if he finds the consoles?” Mari asks.

“And the phones.” Annie keeps a wary eye on Killian’s wolf.

“And Kennedy’s weights.” Mari pulls the sheet to her chin. “And the liquor.”

“And the mushrooms.” Annie’s actually trembling.

How is she going to drive to Chapel Bell by herself and do the deal with ShroomForager3000? He’ll take one look at her and rip her off.

“He’s not coming in. He’s just, I don’t know, hanging out?” Killian’s by the stairs now, looking up at the moon. He’s grown quiet.

“What’s he doing?” Mari asks.

“He wants me to shift, but my wolf doesn’t want to.”

“Una, you have to get him to leave.” Kennedy appears in the doorway, breathless. “If he comes inside, we’re busted.”

It’s true. Except for Kennedy’s game systems, we keep the sitting room pretty clean, but he’ll be able to smell the bar we keep in the pantry and Kennedy’s marijuana gummies.

Lone females aren’t supposed to drink. There’s no rule about gummies, but I can guess what it’d be.

Our cabin is pretty much bursting with contraband. Nothing but the alcohol and phones are explicitly forbidden, but the place is full of evidence that we have access to human money and that we’ve been leaving the territory.

“Shit.” I swing my good leg over the side of the bed.

“That’s our fearless leader.” Kennedy grabs a green knit shawl from a hook and drapes it over my shoulder as I pass. “I’m sure he just wants to talk.”

A howl shakes the window frame.

I check in on my wolf. She’s pretending to sleep. Guess I’m on my own. I wrap the shawl tight around my shoulders.

As I step onto the porch, I hear the girls fighting for seats on my trunk. I guess whatever happens, I’ll have an audience.

I shut the door quickly behind me and lean against it. There’s a bite to the air, and a crispness to the night sounds—bullfrogs and rustling leaves and a distant hoot.

Killian’s wolf turns to glare at me expectantly, the gold blazing.

“She won’t come out,” I tell him.

He pads over, noses my belly, and then gazes soulfully into my eyes. He’s really bummed. I shouldn’t care, but I’m not made of stone.

“I’m sorry.”

He cocks his head.

“She’s tired.”

He snuffles, and it sounds exactly like a human snort.

I sigh. “She’s mad that you let Haisley rub up on you—him.”

He peels back his lips, revealing his fangs. I stiffen. He’s pissed. At me? My wolf?

He paces to the edge of the porch and howls again, a litany this time that drags on and on.

And then, suddenly, silence falls and Killian is standing there, moonlight bathing his chiseled back. His sculpted ass. I curl my bare toes. They’re cold. That’s why.

I clear my throat. “I—uh—did you, um, want something else?” I reach behind me for the door knob.

For a moment, he doesn’t turn, and when he does, my breath catches. I can hear the girls gasp through the closed window. So can Killian. His gaze flies over my shoulder. The curtain sways. Kennedy lets out a wolf whistle.

My face flames. I step forward, holding out my shawl. “Here. You can, er, cover up.”

He doesn’t move to take it. He stares at me, searching for something. I fight the compulsion to bend my neck. If I did, I’d be looking straight at his dick.

How is he so confident? My face is on fire, and he’s just standing there in his birthday suit with a massive erection, lord of all he surveys.

It’s a long, thick, ruddy erection.

Not that I ogled him. Only for a second. I couldn’t miss it. It’s—

I swallow.

It’s notable. I noted it.

I shake the shawl at him.

“What am I supposed to do with that?” he asks.

“Tie it around your waist?”

He raises an eyebrow. “I’m not doing that.”

Mari giggles. It’s abruptly cut off. Probably by Annie’s hand.

Killian snatches the shawl and wraps it around himself like a towel. Now his cock is making a huge tent, stretching Nuala’s cat’s paw stitches.

But I’m not looking.

“Your face is red,” he says.

My gaze flies to Killian’s face. Shit. I was totally looking down.

“I, um, do you, uh, need something?”

His lips soften the slightest bit. A Killian smile. “You got pants?”

“Not men’s pants. No.”

His eyes darken, and there’s a low rumble in his chest. He steps towards me.

Muffled by the glass, Mari blurts, “What’s he doing?”

Annie hisses at her to shush.

Killian grabs my elbow and leads me to the far corner of the porch. At the edge, he glances down. There’s no railing, and it’s maybe three feet off the ground. There’s a flower bed below. Purple allium and lavender and phlox.

He seems to consider, and then he leaps down, grabs my hips, and before I can react, he sets me gently on the edge. Then he vaults to sit beside me.

There are two big footprints in the flowers.

“You crushed the phlox,” I say.

“What’s phlox?”

I point below us. The moon casts a spotlight on the blooms, the illumination turning the petals into glowing jewels. The scent of lavender rises from their broken stems.

“Oh. My bad.”

I don’t know what to do with my hands. He’s too close. I can’t rest them on the ledge.

It’s chilly out, but I don’t want to hug my arms. I don’t want him to think I’m intimidated. Or that my nipples are hard because of him. They are hard, but it’s because of the chill. I’m not wearing a bra, and the cotton of my nightgown is thin.

I don’t know why I care what he thinks. He’s the one being weird.

I settle on clasping my hands in my lap. It feels awkward.

We fall into an uncomfortable silence. If he’s waiting for me to say something, I’m at a loss. I already asked him what he wanted.

Finally, he says, “I’m not your mate.”

It hurts, but this time, it’s only a twinge. It passes quickly. I swear, my wolf snorts.

“But, ah, my wolf—apparently, he’s into your wolf.” He almost sounds embarrassed. Like his wolf’s a pervert or something.

He’s such a dick.

“She’s not interested.” I hike my chin.

He’s quiet again. He stares down the path toward the commons. The lodge is still ablaze, but most of the cabins are dark. The families with young have long since put them to bed.

“He won’t—” Killian clears his throat. “He won’t let me leave.”

Oh.

I dart a glance at his face. His jaw is rigid. His temple’s ticking.

“You’re pretty far out up here,” he says.

Where’s he going with this? The back of my neck prickles. This isn’t good.

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