Alpha's Regret: His Wrongful Rejection

“My what?” He does it again, and it’s so weird. The way he’s holding my tummy reminds me of how I hold Harriet’s when I cradle her on my forearm. “Your squishiness,” he says, the faintest hint of playfulness in his voice. Alec isn’t playful. “Well, leave my squishiness alone,” I say, but I stop…

He holds his hand out. I pass the jug. He unscrews the top and drinks before he answers me, gaze averted, totally serious. “You know me better than anyone else.” I can’t begin to wrap my woozy brain around that. It can’t be true. But he’s not a liar. I don’t think he’d bother. I…

To not dare take anything away from that small and wobbly, but fierce, I am not worthless. I don’t know what to say, so I just start talking. “Isla told me she felt her heat coming on. For me.” I didn’t know a female would lie about it. I didn’t ask questions. I was just…

I was so distracted by her tits and being mad she wasn’t my mate that I didn’t notice. What else have I missed? Flora closes her eyes, scrunches her face, and with a smothered moan of pain, she becomes her wolf. Her animal’s even bigger close up. She’s a beast. Easily the biggest female in…

“It’s got all our stuff.” Our. The rage slips a little more. “Come on.” I catch a glimpse of the river up ahead, a place where the edge is flat and the water isn’t running too fast, and I know exactly what we need. “Alec, you’re acting crazy,” she ventures in a small voice. “I…

“You climbed up behind me, wedged yourself under me, and crawled the rest of the way with me on your back,” she says. I did. It was badass. “When you got to the platform, everyone clapped.” Her voice is bitter. I don’t remember that, but I’m sure they did. I didn’t use a belay line….

I refocus on his dangling cock because I’m awkward and a complete idiot. It twitches. “Flora, why are you staring at my junk?” My eyes screw shut, my cheeks bursting into flames. “Just get out of here. Go back home. No one asked you to come after me.” Or did they? Did Alpha Shaw tell…

This is the male I see around the village during the day, up on a roof with a hammer or loading up the back of a pickup truck. All business, economical movements, and easy efficiency. First, he quickly unpacks and sorts my backpack. My clothes go in a neat stack, thick hoodie and jeans at…

I wait for the shame to hit, the self-loathing, but that’s not the feeling in my cracked-open chest, although I couldn’t name it if you paid me. It’s like I’m a new person now that I’ve left Salt Mountain, and I don’t have to feel the old feelings. There’s room to feel something new, become…

“Where you going?” I keep my voice even. “I told you. The Old Den Pack.” “What’s wrong with your foot?” She glowers down the deer trail she’s found that’s running more or less southward. “Blisters.” She shakes off my hand. I let her. Then she heaves the pack up higher on her shoulders and plows…