Filed To Story: Alpha's Regret: His Wrongful Rejection
I moderate my tone. My wolf doesn’t like how upset she’s getting. “I’ll ship it back to the manufacturer, and they’ll recycle it.” Moon Lake is committed to sustainability. We do our part to combat climate change.
“And then where will what it meant go?”
“What does that even mean?”
I can see she’s about to shut down, hide behind her sullen scavenger “yes, boss” bullshit. I raise my palm like that’ll stop her. “Just break it down for me. Like I’m a pup who doesn’t know anything.”
“You don’t know anything.”
It’s so ridiculous, I don’t bother responding.
She draws in a deep breath. “Okay. So there is time and space, right?”
Oh, dear Fate. This is going to be some batshit scavenger crap. I go ahead and nod.
“We walk through both. Two axes. Like X and Y. You can move forward and backward in space, but time is different. You lose the time that’s passed. Everything except the things that were there. Those you can keep. Then you haven’t lost everything. You’re still whole.”
“So this broken watch will make you whole?” She has to see how this is nonsense.
She blows out her cheeks. “I’m whole. I don’t need it for me.”
“You’re going to give it to someone? Trade it?” They’re always doing that.
She shrugs like she hasn’t thought about it. “I’ll probably keep it.”
“Probably?” There’s a sharpness to my tone, but I have no business taking it the wrong way. She’s speaking gibberish.
She basically ignores me. “You nobs keep throwing everything away like you want to erase the past, but where will we be if we don’t know where we came from and what we really are? We’ll be lost. Can’t you see?”
Her warm brown gaze is so earnest. She truly believes this horseshit.
I can’t bring myself to shoot her down. “We all have beliefs that we’re strongly attached to,” I hedge.
I stop playing and hand her the watch. She takes it with alacrity, but she doesn’t seem happy. She’s got her nose turned up like she’s caught scent of something rank.
This is enough. I have been very patient. I’ve given her more of my undivided attention tonight than I ever have with anyone outside my inner circle.
She just shoves the watch in her pocket, and it’s forgotten.
She folds her arms and rocks on her bare feet as if she’s anxious to be done with me, her face carefully blank again.
Fine.
I clear my throat. “We need to get some things straight. Before tomorrow.”
She doesn’t respond, so I go on. It’s unpleasant, but it has to be said.
“Obviously, I cannot claim you. It’s unfortunate that we find ourselves in this situation, but here we are. You have to come to terms with the fact that I will not acknowledge you, and it will be best for all involved if you don’t attempt to engage with me again in front of the pack.”
As I speak, I stare over her shoulder at the rusty, warped siding of her trailer. I know I’m being harsh, but it will be worse if she puts me in a position where I have to reject her again.
“We will leave things for now, and sort out the, uh—heat—um—later.”
I brace myself and glance down. I don’t relish female tears.
She blinks at me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she wasn’t listening to me.
“We done then?” she asks.
“If, uh, well—“
“Cool, boss.” She actually salutes me, and then she just turns her back and raps twice on the metal door frame. “Hey, Drona, open the damn door.”
There’s a click, the door swings open on its creaky hinges, and Rosie disappears inside without a second’s hesitation.
A pup hollers, “Was that the Alpha Heir?”
She says, “Yeah.”
“Can you untie this knot for me now?” the pup asks.
“Sure thing.”
I stand there for several more minutes, listening to the family going about their business. A faucet runs, light footsteps race through the narrow trailer, and Drona begins hollering at her pups to put on their pajamas.
A grizzled old wolf sticks his nose out, his nose wrinkles, and then he retreats, letting the door slam shut again.
I’ve never been dismissed before, but I suppose this is what it feels like.
I take out my phone to text Derwyn to return, but I hesitate. He’s been out here for hours now. He’s not going to be sharp.
Besides, I’m already here. I slide back into the marsh and circle the trailer to the back ledge where I sat last night. It’s wide enough so I can lay down without falling off—barely.
I’ll figure out a plan tomorrow. Work out a rotation to provide protection for Rosie—at a distance, of course. There will be rumors. It’s unavoidable. But as long as our mating remains gossip, and unacknowledged, Alban will have no banner to rally his supporters behind.
This is an unfortunate pairing, but it’s not the end of the world.
I settle in, covering myself with my jacket. It’s freezing, but the stars are out, and it’s oddly pleasant drowsing off to the yips and howls and laughter carried by the breeze that ruffles the tops of the marsh grasses.
In the Tower, there’s no evidence of other packmates—no sound, no scent. Here in the Bogs, it’s everywhere.
Before I drift off, I hear a pup say through the thin trailer wall, “Why does it smell like wood?”
“That’s Cadoc Collins,” Rosie murmurs in reply.
“He smells nice.”
“So does cyanide,” she says.
Chapter 4
4
ROSIE
I
‘m in trouble.
I wake up in the morning and lie boneless in my top bunk, flushed and feverish, wet between the legs. My boobs are full and aching, and my nipples are as hard as if it’s the middle of winter.
My nieces are already up and about, banging shit for no reason except it’s too damn early.
Cadoc’s gone. Last night, the bond was strong, and his scent filtered in through the narrow crack between the trailer’s wall and roof. Now, the bond is like it was yesterday—there, but ignorable. Like a splinter. Or a canker sore.
I’m in so much trouble.
I can’t begin to sort it all out, so I throw my shaky legs over the side of the bed. My hair is matted to the side of my head with sweat. My panties are plastered to my ass. I’m weak like I haven’t eaten, but I’m also agitated. I want to move.
My wolf is kind of hunched in on herself and panting, waiting for me to fix it.
There’s no fixing anything.
So I jump down and rifle through my drawer for a change of clothes. I pick an old sundress of my sister’s. It’s cotton with spaghetti straps, and maybe, just maybe, I can tolerate it against my skin.