Filed To Story: Alpha's Regret: His Wrongful Rejection
“You hang back, okay?” I say, dragging my wolf out of her corner by her back legs with sheer force of will. “I need to do this myself.”
Kennedy’s obviously disappointed, but she nods, and in a move as smooth as CGI, her human body flows into a big black wolf that lopes down the stairs and up the path.
My wolf’s claws scrabble as she fights me, but I’m stronger. I want it more. She takes our skin in a spiteful cracking of bones and rending of flesh, and it hurts, but it’s layered on top of so much other pain that it’s a drop in the ocean.
As soon as she’s out, my wolf snaps up the bindle with her teeth and takes off after Kennedy’s. She doesn’t want to be alone in the dark so late at night. Kennedy’s wolf slows his pace so that we can keep up, and our wolves run side by side, as mismatched as two animals can be, following the trail we made the other day.
If there’s a moon, it’s covered by clouds. The air is cool and damp in our lungs, and the undergrowth slapping our forelegs is wet with gathering dew. We’re silent except for our jagged panting as we scramble up banks and around thick trunks of trees choked with ivy black in the darkness.
My wolf is scared. She wants to turn around and bolt for home, but she doesn’t dare leave the protection of Kennedy’s wolf.
It takes a quarter of the time to get to Darragh’s shack as it did when we hiked on two legs. Kennedy’s wolf is careful to approach from the north so that the wind hides our arrival. He’s giving me time in case I want to change my mind.
My wolf would be happy to turn around right now. She wants no part of this. When I call for our skin, she doesn’t hesitate to relinquish it.
She’s baffled by the fact that Darragh left us, but she’s sure he has a good reason. She thinks that we’re supposed to stay where we were put and wait for him to come back. I think she expects him to return with food, maybe a haunch of venison.
I don’t really want to confront him either. I hate conflict. I’m a head down, fingers crossed kind of female, but I’m terrified that if I turn back now, this brave Mari will disappear. I’ll become the female that everyone sees as a human doll with an empty head and bad luck, and I’ll never be anything else in my own eyes.
Brave Mari, scared shitless with teeth chattering in a borrowed T-shirt with no panties and no shoes, is still better than the stupid, na?ve doll that no one really cares about, doomed by Fate to misery and loneliness.
I suck down a deep breath and comb my fingers once through Kennedy’s silky coat to calm my nerves. Even amped up with aggression, he tolerates it because he’s got my back. I can’t be that much of a loser if I have a friend like Kennedy. That’s just facts.
I’m not the problem.
He is.
I square my shoulders and trip down the incline to the shack, my blood pounding in my ears. I don’t knock or call out. I stride straight through the door, wearing my righteous indignation like a suit of armor.
The fire is blazing in the hearth.
A huge wolf is splayed on his side in front of it, the flames glinting off his bronze coat as his flank rises and falls with the rhythm of deep sleep. I hold my breath. His wolf is freaking huge. His body spans almost the entire breadth of the shelter.
My wolf squeaks out the barest, terrified whine.
His wolf rouses, and there is a second frozen in time when his sleep-muddled golden eyes clock me, and I think, “That’s my mate. He’s beautiful.”
And then his pupils snap into black slits, and with a bone-rattling snarl, he launches himself at me, flying through the air, claws unsheathed, fangs bared, murder in his eyes.
I can only track him, my eyes bulging, paralyzed as he hurtles toward me until my wolf’s instincts surge forward, screeching at me to run, bolt out the door, scramble up the incline like the devil is at my heels, because he is. He’s eating up the distance between us in a single effortless bound, leaping for my throat—
I scream. His claw slices through my shirt and the soft flesh underneath like a knife through butter. Red blooms on the white cotton. My mouth opens, and before I can call for my mother, which is the word that springs onto my tongue, a solid weight checks me in the hip and I cartwheel, landing somehow sprawled across the back of a furry black beast that doesn’t miss a step as he races into the trees.
It’s Kennedy.
I plunge my nails deep in his thick pelt, and he darts between trunks, zigzagging like he’s on fire, sending clods of dirt spraying. I hug his back, bumping and bouncing, hanging on for dear life, my face buried in black fur. An unholy howling follows us, echoing off the hills, as my heart tries to punch a hole through my chest.
My mate is trying to kill me. I’m bleeding.
I don’t know how long we run. Long enough that my death grip on Kennedy’s fur makes my fingers numb. The howls fade. I peek up and recognize landmarks close to camp. Physical feeling slowly returns to my body. My lungs burn. My side hurts.
Kennedy trots straight to our cabin and up onto the porch. I force myself to let go, slumping off her back into a heap on the floorboards and curling into a shrimp, squeezing my bent arm tight against the wound.
Kennedy rises, morphing from four feet to two in a fluid sequence until she’s standing, wired as hell, her chest heaving, her pupils blown.
“Holy shit,” she shrieks. “Fast and the Furious, eh? Did you see that? Did you fucking see that
?” She stalks back and forth, raking her fingers through her sweat-soaked hair.
I didn’t see anything. My eyes were screwed shut the whole time.
I’m shaking. I can’t stop.
“Whew!” she howls, throwing her head back, until finally, she registers me lying at her feet. “Shit, Mari. I’ll go get the first aid kit.”
I nod. My cheek scrapes against the rough boards.
The sky is growing lighter. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but it’s on the verge. Morning animals are bustling and tweeting in the stand of maple and beech trees that surround our cabin.
It’s a perfectly peaceful beginning of a brand-new day. My new mate just came within inches of ripping my heart out with his claw. My brain is broken by the dissonance.
What do I do now?
I don’t want to move the arm I’m using as a compress to see how bad it is. It can’t be a mortal wound. I’m not faint, and the red stain on the shirt isn’t growing. The pain is bad, but I can take it.
Kennedy returns, Una on her heels. Annie hangs back, peering up and down the path with terrified eyes.
“Sweet Fate. What happened?” Una asks, rushing to lower herself beside me, hoisting her bad leg out of the way like baggage.
I catch Kennedy’s eye. I can’t begin to think of a lie, but I don’t want anyone to know. I couldn’t bear it. If it gets out—and everything gets out in this pack—I’ll end up hauled in front of Killian on his dais to explain why Darragh Ryan would reject me as his mate so vehemently that his wolf would try to disembowel me.
Kennedy doesn’t miss a beat. “We were out for a night hike. We ran into a bobcat. It was deranged. Maybe rabid.”
Una frowns. “You broke curfew?” She prods me to move my arm away from my side. “Kennedy, you know how dangerous that is.” She means we could get busted by the pack’s patrols. She knows Kennedy’s wolf is a badass.
“Yeah,” Kennedy says with a rueful smile.
“We’ll have to tell the alpha.” Una’s face blanches with distress at the prospect. “We can’t have a rabid bobcat skulking around, especially now that it has a taste for flesh.”
“No worries. I killed it.” Kennedy squats down to watch as Una carefully unpeels the bloody shirt from my skin. “And he only got her with his claws.”
Cool air hits the wound, and I moan with pain. Una clicks her teeth.
“You’ll need stitches,” she says. “We should move you inside.”
I understand that I need to move, but the aftershock has me now. I don’t think my brain is in charge of my limbs anymore. My body is a broken husk, and my mind’s floating away like a balloon that’s slipped its string.
Darragh’s wolf seriously wanted me dead. If Kennedy had been seconds slower—
I shudder, and then I can’t stop. I shake so badly that I couldn’t unbend my legs to stand even if I could get them to follow my directions.
Una smooths my tangled curls and hums under her breath. “It’s over now, Mari. You’re safe.”
No, I’m not. What if Darragh’s wolf hunts us down? What if he’s out there now, waiting for his chance to finish me off?
“We need to get in the house,” I mumble, and despite the shivers convulsing my body, I force myself to roll onto my hands and knees. Pain stabs my side. I grab the railing while Kennedy wedges her shoulder under my armpit, and I haul myself upright. I’m so focused on getting inside that I don’t notice the new arrival until Annie gasps.
Did she materialize out of thin air? One minute the path was empty, and the next, Abertha is there, a patchwork bag slung over her shoulder, palms raised like she means no harm.
“I heard you met an animal in the woods,” she says. “I heard he got you good.” Her eyes are knowing, and her voice is knowing, and her knowing burns like salt in a wound.
Does she know why Darragh tried to kill me?
Is she the reason why?
I can’t go toe-to-toe with her, not on a normal day, and certainly not now. I ignore her and keep shuffling toward the door, trying not to move too much or breathe too deeply. The pain stabs deep under my ribs.
“It’s not that bad,” I say through clenched teeth, whether to myself or the others, I don’t know.
“She needs stitches,” Una tells Abertha over her shoulder as she gestures for Kennedy to continue helping me into the cabin.
It hurts to move, and it hurts to remember Darragh standing on Abertha’s front porch, drinking her tea. It hurts that I could care at all that he’s cool with the witch after what he did. He hates me. He wants me to die.
He’s not the first male to try to end me.