Filed To Story: Alpha's Regret: His Wrongful Rejection
“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.
“It’s peaceful.” And there’s no one to watch us come and go.
He sighs. “You know, I put you guys up here to keep you away from-” He cracks his jaw. “From, uh, males who’d take advantage.”
I never knew why he did it. We’d been living various places until one day, Cheryl told the four of us that Alpha said to pack our shit and move up the hill.
Seems weird, though. To put all us lone females out here alone for our protection.
Killian seems to read my mind. “My cabin’s straight down wind. Anyone approaches, I know.”
Oh.
“And I got the patrols overlapping up there.” He points to the crest of the ridge behind our cabin.
I had no idea. Oh, shit. Why don’t we scent them? They can definitely smell us from that close. Kennedy smokes her pipe on the back deck.
Killian cracks a slight grin. “We know you ladies cut loose sometimes up here.”
“I-“
He raises a hand. “Keep it up here, and we don’t have a problem.”
“We didn’t-Why can’t we smell the patrols?”
“If they didn’t have the sense to stand downwind, they wouldn’t make good scouts, would they?”
I guess that’s true.
“Listen. I know what you all think, but I do shit for a reason. Do you remember what it was like before?”
I was sixteen when his father died. I remember. I kept my head down. Mixed with the pack as little as possible. If I wasn’t at school, I spent my time in the kitchen, the laundry, and up at Abertha’s. You couldn’t avoid the gossip, though. Packmates disappearing, coming back hurt and not saying where they’d been. Packmates who didn’t come back. And you saw the bruises.
And the females who broke down and cried in the middle of dinner.
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Males-they took what they wanted. Females got hurt. Young got beaten.”
I know it used to be worse.
“I changed that,” he says. “You’re safe now.”
He pauses. Does he expect me to thank him?
I guess he deserves it.
Old Noreen is always bringing up the bad old days. She thinks we’re ungrateful, so she reminds us-in Declan Kelly’s time, that male would have bent you over the table. Be happy he just slapped your ass.
In Declan Kelly’s time, if a babe was born small, they’d leave him out in the woods. If he was still alive in three days’ time, his dam could keep him.
And don’t get her started on the dens. In the dens, females weren’t allowed to wear clothes, except furs in winter. In the dens, enforcers didn’t just eat first, they ate their fill. Low rank got scraps-if there were any left.
We all roll our eyes, but we’re not unaware that we’re lucky. Even though it doesn’t feel like it.