Filed To Story: Alpha's Regret: His Wrongful Rejection
“I’m not the alpha,” Justus grumbles.
Diantha smirks. “Then we’ll take her with us. Since you don’t have any say. Since you’re not the alpha.”
She’s baiting him—the male she calls alpha.
He’s getting annoyed.
She better shut up. Someone will get hurt. The pup is right there.
“I’m her mate,” he says. “She stays with me.”
Diantha rolls her eyes. “That’s not your call, is it?”
It is his call, though, right? Males decide where their females can go and what they can do. Even now that Una and Killian are mated, the males allow us to sell our wares in Chapel Bell.
“Do you want to come with us, Annie? We won’t let any of them near you.” Diantha turns her nose up at the males who have been subtly gathering closer to her. Immediately, they cast each other accusatory looks, projecting as much innocence as long-haired, tattooed, half-shifted males can.
“She’s his mate.” Alroy straightens, lifting his chest and hiking his chin so he can glower at Diantha. Standing tall, he almost seems like a different male. “You stay out of it.”
Diantha’s face gets shrewd and bloodthirsty, like a raccoon about to steal a dog’s dinner.
“Where’s my granddam’s black bear pelt, eh, Alroy?” she asks in a singsong, projecting her voice so even the folks at the back can hear. “Oh yes, I remember. You traded it to Quarry Pack for three unmated females. Where are the females then, Alroy? Eh? Eh? Where are they?”
Alroy flushes beet red from his pasty chest up to the tip of his ears. The redder he gets, the more his muscles tense. Neither my wolf nor I clocked him as a big threat, but now, we both eye him warily.
“Don’t try to be slick, Diantha,” he sneers. “You want to take his mate so you can get him back.”
Get him back? My wolf rumbles.
Justus is flushing now, too, under his beard. “Enough, Alroy,” he says.
“That’s right, Alroy,” Diantha jumps right in to say. “Now show neck and shut up like a good boy.” Her attention is trained on Alroy.
Justus’s face darkens, his scent souring by the second, and Diantha is so intent on riling Alroy, she doesn’t notice at all.
Be quiet! Danger! Make her be quiet!
My wolf edges closer to the little pup who’s watching wide-eyed like the rest of the pack.
Why aren’t they bending their heads? At the first hint of Killian’s displeasure, everyone in Quarry Pack bows their head like it’s time to give thanks at a full moon feast.
None of the females seem concerned that there are two males growing angrier and angrier. It almost seems like entertainment to them. The male with the drumstick is sucking the bones while his gaze ping-pongs from packmate to packmate.
“You’re not the alpha female, Diantha,” Alroy sneers. “No matter how many times you’ve sniffed Justus’s ass.”
She snorts. “You wish a female would even sniff in the direction of yours, but for that to happen, you’d have to wash it,
Alroy, more than once a season.”
“I said enough,” Justus growls through gritted teeth.
He’s angry. No one move.
The little pup rolls onto her side, stretching her legs and splaying her tiny toe beans. Exposing her belly. My wolf’s muscles bunch, her heart in her throat. How does the pup not sense the danger?
When males fight, they don’t care what breaks or who they trample. Where the hell is her dam?
“Next time, you should try trading for human females, Alroy.” Diantha smirks as if Justus isn’t even there, his wolf rattling his ribs. “They don’t have much of a sense of smell.”
A sharp snarl bursts from Alroy’s chest.
The pup lets out a surprised yelp.
No!
My wolf leaps on top of her, rolling her away from the angry males and into the crowd. Packmates stumble back.
My wolf pops to her feet and crouches over the pup, hiding her, growling and snapping until the circle around her clears.
She catches sight of Alroy’s flaming tomato face, and she lets out a snarl so furious that it scrapes her throat.
He frightened the pup. He’s the threat.
Kill him.
I can’t. He’s too big. My wolf looks to Justus expectantly. His eyes are dark with rage, his body tensed and menacing, but my wolf doesn’t flinch. She yaps at him. He’s bigger. He needs to handle this male. She can’t do everything herself.
Justus growls. He’s clearly threatening Alroy, not my wolf, but still, the sound has the force of an alpha’s growl, no matter what he says, and it strikes terror in my human heart.
Shut up, wolf.
Oh, please, shut your mouth.
My wolf ignores us both and yaps at Justus even louder.
Pockets of smothered laughter bubble up from the crowd as if one by one, they can’t hold it in anymore.
Justus steps to Alroy, his aggravation blaring like an air raid siren. Inside my wolf, I scurry back to my corner, huddle, and moan. My wolf bares her teeth at Alroy and rumbles in anticipation.
Alroy doesn’t even notice. He’s steaming mad, glaring daggers at Diantha, screwing up his mouth to say something else.
She smirks, waiting, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
“We should trade you.” Alroy sneers. “Everyone’s tired of your old ass anyway.”
All laughter dies. Diantha’s jaw drops. The sharp stink of aggression rises from the females. The pup curls into a tighter ball beneath me.
My wolf lifts her muzzle and howls.
“That’s it.” Justus curses and lunges for Alroy.
In the blink of an eye, Alroy shifts and tries to leap away, but Justus is quicker. He snatches Alroy’s full-grown wolf from midair with his bare hands and spins almost exactly like we were taught in human sport class at Moon Lake Academy when we learned the discus. Then he lets go.
Alroy’s wolf goes flying. The crowd scatters, clearing a runway. He lands a good ten yards away and skids across the ground, tearing up the lush green grass. Eventually, he rolls to a stop with a sad mewl. He stays down.
Justus throws his head back, bares his fangs, and roars. His bellow echoes off the terraces rising around us. Loose pebbles skitter down the rock face. The entire pack crashes to their knees and bares their throats. Pups dart between their dams’ legs to hide. The silence is sudden and absolute.
A breeze whips down from a high peak, ruffling fur like wind across a wheat field. My wolf draws in a steadying breath, bracing for the stench of fear.
The air is clear.
Almost brisk.
The entire pack is showing neck, and they’re chastened—and wary—but they aren’t afraid.
I don’t understand.
Justus blows out his cheeks, clenches his teeth and glares beseechingly up at the sky for a moment, and then points at Alroy’s wolf and says, “You watch how you talk to females. I’ll skin you and trade your pelt to Quarry Pack. Try me. See if I won’t!” He bellows the final words.
Alroy’s wolf whines and tucks his snout into his shoulder.
Then Justus turns to Diantha. “You—” he snaps, then stops himself and starts again with a deliberately, teeth-grindingly even voice. “Mind your own business. Please.” He surveys his pack and announces, “This is Annie. She’s my mate. That’s all. No need for all of this. Go on about your day now.”
“Yes, Alpha,” the pack mutters.