Filed To Story: Alpha's Regret: His Wrongful Rejection
Killian chuckles like he’s been given a compliment. “You just stared death in the face, kid. I bet those yips are gone. Ivo and Tye don’t look so scary now, eh?”
Lucan looks completely unimpressed by his logic, which amuses Killian even more.
“Come on.” He claps the kid on the back. “Let’s go back to camp and get a soak and a steam. Get that fear stink off your skin.”
I’m still reeling from what happened, so they’re almost to the trail before I remember that I’ve got something for her. For Mari. Once I light the bog worm carcass up, I’m going to be stuck here for the next day or so making sure it doesn’t start a forest fire.
“Hold up,” I call to Killian. “I’ve got something for her.” She’ll need something for later this week.
I trot to the fridge I’ve got behind the shelter. It feels wasteful to have a generator just for a fridge, but I need a place to store the meat before I can get it down to camp. I have plans to eventually wire the structure in the trees for electricity, but that’s in the future.
“Here.” I toss a few wrapped steaks to Killian. “Tell her if she doesn’t cook it today she should freeze it. It’s on its third day.”
Killian nods, but Lucan’s checking out the package, a strange expression on his still-blanched face. “You’re the one who gives Mari meat?”
I tense, but I nod.
“I can put it in the freezer for you,” the kid offers.
“Killian can give it to her.” I can hear my wolf in my voice. I guess I might not want the kid dead, but I don’t have to like the fact that he spends part of his days with her.
“It’s just that Mari’s not around today, right? She’s gone to town.”
I stalk forward, closing the space between us in seconds. The kid freezes, fear blowing out his pupils.
“What is she doing in town?” I ask, the question barely audible above my wolf’s growling. “It’s not market day.”
“W-well, I mean, she’s got a d-date, right?”
Every fight instinct inside me triggers. My chest swells. Blood rushes to my extremities. My wolf’s growls rattle my voice box. I dig my sprung claws into the meat of my palms.
I’ve gone over this with myself a thousand times. If she wants another male, I have no right to do shit about it. She deserves to be happy. I have no claim. My gut plummets, and in this instant, I recognize how many times I’ve lied to myself.
Killian asks the question since I can’t speak above the snarling in my throat. “Who is she meeting?”
“S-some guy from Salt Mountain. They’re just getting coffee. Her girls are going with her.”
I stand in place, fighting for breath, to beat back the blind aggression seizing my brain. I’ve told myself what I’ll do when this happens. Nothing. I’ll do nothing.
I’m going to puke.
“What guy from Salt Mountain?” Killian presses.
“I don’t remember—” Lucan’s eyes dart from me to Killian to the trail back to camp. His wolf is telling him to run. “Shit. Lenox! That’s his name. Lenox.” Lucan exhales a sigh in relief.
I’ve told myself that if she finds a male, I’ll let her be. I won’t stop someone else from giving her what I can’t. I’ll deal with it. Deal with this feeling the same as I would deal with getting my leg ripped off.
“We need to go to town now,” Killian meets my eyes.
I clench my fists, desperately summoning the strength to make myself tell him to leave her be, let her be happy.
“It’s b-broad daylight,” Lucan stammers on like he’s trying to cover for her. “Females are allowed to go to town together now.”
Killian’s eyes darken, and he holds my gaze as he says, “They are, man, but we’ve got a problem. I know every male from Salt Mountain from the fights. I’m telling you—there’s no Lenox.”
My restraint explodes like a grenade. As I bolt for my four-wheeler, my wolf’s howls echo mine, and for once, we’re both calling for the same blood. We’re both tearing in the same direction, and I don’t have the bandwidth to consider whether the greater danger to Mari is this male or my wolf. I can only pray and shout down the bond—
Hold on.
I’m coming.
Chapter 7
7
MARI
Lenox is even cuter in person. He’s wearing a snap cap in a herringbone pattern. It’s not a fedora, but it’s adorable. He looks like a newsie. He’s waiting at the coffee shop counter for our orders. We both got tea.
I’m so glad I didn’t chicken out. I almost did a half dozen times. When I woke up this morning, I had trouble getting out of bed, like back when Darragh had just—nope. No. I’m not thinking about that today.
Anyway, I was in the process of hyping myself enough to throw back the covers when Kennedy and Annie burst in with breakfast in bed. It was a bowl of cereal, but it’s the thought that counts. I got myself into the shower, and then I freaked out again when I decided I didn’t want to wear the dress I bought online for the occasion.
It was a mauve organza mini-dress with an oversized bow neck, and I loved how it’s super cute and feminine even though it reveals absolutely zero chest. But this morning, my legs felt too exposed, so of course, I was going to call the whole thing off until Annie dragged me to her closet, which is nothing but long hems and high necklines.
There, behind all her kindergarten teacher jumpers, was the perfect dress. It’s soft pink, midi length, with a dragon fly pattern and long sheer mesh sleeves, a V in the back, and a black ribbon that ties in a bow to keep the shoulders up. Somehow, it’s still casual and picnic-in-a-wildflower-field-y.
The day was saved—until I lost it again because of a rogue curl which, despite the mousse, kept popping up like an antenna. Then I dropped my makeup bag, and my mascara rolled under the bathroom vanity, and I burst into tears. I sat on the edge of the bathtub, weeping, and Kennedy came in and sat beside me, slinging an arm over my shoulder.
“Good thing you didn’t put the mascara on before you started crying,” she pointed out helpfully.
I pulled it together, but for the entire drive into town, I felt wrong, and that just made me mad. My wolf is flat out on strike. She’s skulking somewhere in the depths of our psyche. All I can feel is her censure like an ambient funk stinking up my mind. I guess she wants us to be alone forever.
Everyone deserves a chance at happiness. Even if this doesn’t go anywhere, I won’t regret it. I just wish Ifelt better about it.
I surreptitiously check Lenox out as he leans against the cream and sugar counter, texting on his phone. He’s tall and fit, like most shifters, but he also has a sense of fashion. He’s wearing a crisp white collared shirt, a denim jacket, and he’s not wearing athletic shorts. His brown pants have a zipper, a button, and a nice leather belt. Already, he outclasses every male in Quarry Pack.
The barista calls out “Len,” and he carries our drinks out to the caf? table on the sidewalk where I’m staking out our seats. The coffee shop is crowded with the lunchtime crowd, but we’re the only shifters. I kind of like the feeling. No one knows my backstory. No one’s sneaking glances or judging. I’m just a girl on a date.
It’s normal. Natural. I’m not betraying anyone. I have no reason to feel guilty.
I take a deep breath. This is no big deal.
Kennedy and Annie are around, visiting the shops, giving me space, but they’re close in case I need to bail. My stomach hasn’t felt right all day, and when I saw Lenox, the feeling got worse. It’s butterflies. First date jitters. It’s nothing to worry about. This is fine. Everything is fine.
Lenox slides into the chair across from me, but because the table’s so small, his knees bump mine. I instinctively tuck my legs back as far as they’ll go under the chair.
“Sorry,” he says with a rueful smile.
“No worries.” I force my legs to stretch back out where they were and take the cup he offers, wrapping my hands around it, enjoying the warmth. It’s hardly fall, the equinox was only last week, but there’s a nip in the air that has chilled the tips of my fingers. “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing.” He nods at my hands. “You cold?”
“Not much.” I sip my tea, and my cheeks flush as I try to think of something to say. Why is talking so hard? It was so easy over the phone. I couldn’t smell him, then. His scent is—different.
Different isn’t bad. It’s just different. He smells like machinery. Metals. Objectively, it’s a good smell, but it reminds me of the abandoned groundskeeper’s shed across from our cabin, of the rusty equipment shrouded in cobwebs. That’s not his fault.
For his part, Lenox doesn’t seem fazed by my awkwardness. He calmly stirs his tea, and when a cloud passes overhead, he tugs the brim of his hat down. He took the seat with the sun in his eyes.
“I like your hat,” I say. Oh, lord. That sounded so loud and random. A blush creeps up my neck, across my face, to the tip of my ears.
“Yeah? Thanks.” He smiles. He has a nice smile. Good, even teeth. That’s not a given with shifters from Salt Mountain. They don’t do as well on the shifter circuit as our males do, and they aren’t into human business like Moon Lake.
Lenox takes the hat and reaches across the table to set it on my head. “Looks better on you.”
“Yeah?” I tilt it to a jaunty angle even though it’s unsettling to have something touching me that was just on his head. “You think it suits me?”
“Anything would suit you.” For a second, he leans in, and without meaning to, I jerk back, pressing my spine into the wrought iron chair.
He smiles wryly and shifts back in his chair. “You’re jumpy.”
I lift a shoulder. No sense in denying it. “It’s just jitters. I’ve never, uh, done this before.”
“This is your first cup of tea? Seriously?” He’s teasing, and it’s silly, but I appreciate it. The tightness in my chest loosens a little.