Filed To Story: Alpha's Regret: His Wrongful Rejection
“Yeah.”
“But you stayed away?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I figured you were too mad.”
“But now, today, you decide to pop in?”
“Yeah?”
I blink. “Why?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I decided you probably weren’t going to get less mad.”
My nose tingles, and suddenly, I can’t bear being pinned in anymore. I drop to my feet. He stands just as quickly.
“I have to—” I gesture toward the door, and he backs right off. I scurry for the door, then freeze when I realize I kicked my boots off back by the bed.
Thump. Thump.
Cadoc tosses them the length of the trailer to land next to me. I balance, stick my feet in, and finish fleeing with my chin high and my face on fire.
I don’t get very far. I go stand at the edge of the clearing, hands on my hips, and stare up at Salt Mountain, shrouded in mist, as I sniff back tears.
What did I want? Some grand declaration? A compelling reason that would make rejecting me all okay? What reason would be good enough for my heart?
Cadoc joins me again, striding over without hesitation. He rests his jacket on my shoulders. He has my backpack dangling in his hand.
“So, do you want to go look for stuff or what?” he asks.
“What?” I’m really proud that my voice doesn’t wobble.
“That’s what you do, right? Look for stuff?”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“No.” He settles my backpack over his shoulders. “I get it now. It’s like hunting and gathering. You’re gathering.”
My muscles are still so tense that they ache, and I’m confused, and my sinuses hurt from crying, and my throat is raw from yelling.
But I don’t have anything else to do, and Cadoc doesn’t seem inclined to say anything else, so I might as well forage.
I head north. After a beat, Cadoc catches up and matches his pace to mine.
I lead the way along a ridge which eventually descends into a ravine. We follow that until it veers east. I keep going north, picking my way up a steep, rocky incline. On the other side of the crest, there’s a wooded valley that I haven’t explored yet. I’ve marked it C4 on the grid. I’m kind of cheating—map-making as I search. I haven’t found anything good, yet, so switching between foraging and sketching makes the days slightly less tedious.
“What are we looking for?” Cadoc asks when we pause at the top of the hill to catch our breath.
“Ashbalm, dragon’s tongue, wolf’s bane,” I tick off the big three. I don’t want to make conversation, but it’s not the worst thing walking with him.
No matter how slow I go, he stays by my side. If I stop, he stops. What’s really strange is that his company is somehow familiar, not that I know him—I don’t know him at all—but our steps somehow match.
I bet my wolf recognized that he was here all along. That’s why she’s been happy to lounge around and admire the little bean in my belly.
My hand floats there, and instantly, Cadoc’s eyes drop. I can tell he wants to ask something.
I cut him off before he can. “Fairy rings, hollow logs, mineshafts, dens, caves, good climbing trees, human stuff, claws, teeth, bones, antlers, springs. You know—“
He makes a grunt that indicates he does not know at all.
“Mostly ashbalm. It’s not the time of year for it, but if I get lucky, I’ll find vines, and I can circle back come spring.”
“Have you ever found any?”
“No, but Abertha has, and she showed me.” I stiffen, remembering how I’m not her apprentice, not really. I was just a shifter she was keeping close tabs on in case I panned out.
In case I turned out to be important.
I pivot a little too abruptly to face Cadoc, and my stomach sloshes. He turns from where he was checking out some old scat.
“Why am I important?” I hug his jacket close and shrink into it so the only part of me exposed is my nose on up. “Because of the pup? Are you going to try to convince me to hand it over to you?”
He’s silent for a few seconds, somber-faced, and every so often it seems like he’s decided on what to say, and then he changes his mind and his lips press shut again. Eventually—finally—he sighs and says, “Rosie, I have no goddamn idea what to do with a pup.”
“Give it to your parents.”
He shakes his head, a short, emphatic ‘no.’ “They had their shot. No way in hell do they get another with our pup.”
Our pup.
“I’ll kill you if you try to take it from me.”
“I won’t. And I won’t let anyone else.”
I catch his eyes, try to burrow beneath the cold glaze, but they’re unreadable. “Well, if you try, I’ll kill you.”
He nods.
“Do you believe me?”
“Is that why you came out here? To protect the pup?”
“Why’d you think?”
“Because you hate me.”
“Well, that too.” I turn my back and start to pick my way down the hill.
He gives me a few feet before he catches up and holds my elbow.
“I don’t need help.” My senses might be shit, but my balance is fine.
“Let me anyway?” His grip doesn’t loosen.
“You can’t lull me into a false sense of security,” I tell him.
“Noted.”
His patient good guy act should be irritating as hell, but for some reason, I’m not feeling as salty as I’m acting. I’ve been so lonely and scared. Even though he’s the enemy, in this moment, he’s also the only other soul in the middle of nowhere.
My confession comes out of nowhere, almost a slip of the tongue. “I don’t know what to do with a pup either.”
He glances down at me. I force myself to meet his gaze. Is that a feeling in there? Worry? I squint. Yeah, there is definitely a silverish spark of panic in there. Whoa. The fa?ade has a crack.
He’s worried, too. That means there’s legitimate reason for worry. My heartbeat picks up.
“I have a book,” I say in an effort to reassure myself. I nod toward my backpack. “It’s written for humans, but I think a lot of it is the same for us.”
“We have a book?” Despite the scruff, I can see his lips curve. “We’re all good, then.”
I don’t want to laugh with the male who turned up his nose at me like spoiled leftovers.