Filed To Story: Alpha's Regret: His Wrongful Rejection
Hell, I feel the same. I never dreamed I’d be lucky enough to find my mate, let alone that she’d be from one of the lost packs. No wonder she’s behaving so strangely. She thinks it’s normal for the air she breathes and the food she eats to come out of machines.
Do her people mate differently, too? Do they have a machine for this, too?
Her wild brown eyes meet mine. She’s needy. I recognize the look. There’s still fear, though.
I hunker down so she doesn’t feel like her back is against a wall. I don’t think she’s going to tell me what she wants like Lelia and Diantha, but I’ll follow her lead.
Her gaze drops, and she sinks to her knees and begins scooping the dry leaves from the maples and oaks overhead into a pile. Shit. She’s making her nest. Right out here in the open. This is not ideal.
I sniff the air. Quarry Pack does keep their territory clear. I don’t even get a stale whiff of four-legged predator. There’s no trace of their males, either. We’re pretty far from their nearest patrol path. They let the river act as a boundary here, which is stupid. Ferals can swim if they’re hungry enough, and so can humans, and they’re worse—they won’t be looking for food.
Annie pauses with an armful of leaves, her eyes clearing for a moment as if she’s woken from a dream. A wave of fear rolls off her. I remind my wolf not to growl. Growling makes it worse.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” she mutters, her lower lip trembling. “I can’t stop it.”
I wish I could take the fear from her, but she has a right to it. This is going to hurt her. The females always make a fuss after their first time and make their males fetch sweets or rub their backs. I’m pretty sure they’re playing it up, but I’ve scented blood in the air after a new mating, so there must be some pain.
I don’t want to hurt Annie. She’s lovely. Like a sparrow. Or a swan with her long, graceful neck. And I sure as hell don’t want her any more scared. Her fear already has my nerves on a hair trigger. My wolf’s, too.
I creep forward. She doesn’t pay me any mind. She’s gone back to piling leaves and plucking twigs from the heap and tossing them over her shoulder. She mutters as she works, but I can’t make out the words.
When I get to the edge of her nest, I stop. I’d never come closer without invitation. Nests are sacred, even a makeshift one made out of leaves.
My paw brushes a leaf, and she casts my wolf a baleful glare. What has displeased her? It could be so many things.
I haven’t brought her home, so she doesn’t know that I have a good, warm den for her. Besides the goose, the squirrel, the snake, and the hare, she has no proof that I can care for her, and females need more than just meat. They like sweets and pretty, soft, clean things, and they need to know that you’re vicious enough to kill any threat so that they can sleep undisturbed. But they also need to know that you’re not so feral or foul-tempered that you’d hurt the pups.
We don’t have many females, so we all watch them closely, and as strange as they act sometimes, they’re not complicated. They just want things to be safe and nice and tidy.
None of this is right. We should be in my den.
I’ve been trespassing on Quarry Pack land for almost two weeks at this point, and it’s making my fur itch. Max said to stay here to see her through her heat, though, and he stole his mate Elspeth from North Border, and she seems happy enough. She lets him sleep in their den, and she never tried to run back home, not that I heard about anyway.
But mating out in the open? When I’m on the verge of rut?
I feel the vicious hunger pulsing inside me. When I shift to human, I’m going to need to focus harder than I ever have before so that I don’t tear into her. I need to do the thing as gently as I can, then shift back, and get her home. Once she’s in my den, she’ll see that I can give her everything she needs, and she’ll calm down.
She’s slowing down with the nesting. She’s flushed bright pink, and her hair has come undone. She looks tired. There are dark circles under her eyes.
“I can’t make it any better,” she says, soft and sad, and lies down on her side, resting her head on her upper arm. Her hand is over the edge of the nest. So close to where I wait.
I roll to my side and wriggle closer, mirroring her position. Her hand is near enough to stroke my belly now if she’d just lift it. I whine to encourage her. She looks at me with bleary eyes.
“You’re not going to go away, are you?” she asks.
Never. At least, not without her. We’re mates. She’s safe now. Whatever is frightening her, I’ll kill. If I can’t, I know places where we’ll never be found. We’re going to be a family.
I don’t know much about how it works—I was so young when I lost my sire and dam—but I remember a crackling fire and thick venison steaks sizzling on the grilling grate, my sire in his fur, pretending to snatch one away, and my dam giggling. I can figure out how to make that for Annie. I can’t wait.
I scooch forward until my stomach brushes the tips of her fingers. She sighs, but thank Fate, she takes the hint and pets my belly. Her touch is hesitant. I can barely feel it through my fur, but still, it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt. My blood surges through my veins, dosing me with adrenaline. If I were in my human skin, I’d have her on her knees and be sinking into her now.
“Can you be quick?” she asks.
I don’t think I’ll have any choice in the matter. Lelia taught me tricks to last long enough to please her, but I don’t see them working with Annie. I’m too excited. Annie is mine to keep. I won’t be alone anymore. I’ve wanted this my entire life. I’ll be lucky if I last three strokes.
I bend my neck so I can nuzzle her fingers with my nose.
“When it’s done, you’ll go. It’ll be over.” She sounds so hopeless.
Why does she worry that I’ll leave her here? Can’t she feel that this is real? We’ll both go together. This is just the beginning.
I roll all the way onto my back so she understands that between us, she ranks. She doesn’t need to worry. Whatever is wrong, I can fix. I can do anything for her.
Her fingers graze my sternum, hesitating at a clump of fur caked with dried goose blood. She must realize what she’s touched because she grimaces and snatches her hand away. My wolf whines.
“Will you bathe first? Please?”
Yes. Of course. Females like their males clean. I know this. I clamber to my feet. She startles. Her fear scent thickens. Even though I hate leaving her even for a few minutes, it’s good that the air will have time to clear by the time I get back. I really can’t wait until we’re bonded, so she stops going skunk on me.
My wolf races to the bank and flings himself into the rushing stream. The frigid water sharpens my mind. When I shift to human, I’m going to have to be quick. Rut is riding me, but I’m strong enough to hold it back and fuck her with care. I have to be. She’s already so skittish.
I paddle in a few circles, letting the current rinse my pelt. I’m about as dirty as I’ve ever been. I mudded myself up real good before I crossed into Quarry Pack territory to hide my scent, and I haven’t bathed since. I’ll be keeping my fur squeaky clean from here on out, though. I want her to stroke me with those clever fingers all the time. All over.
My wolf’s dick swells, which is impressive, considering that there’s already a film of ice at the river’s edge.
I need to do this before I lose the ability to control myself.
I paddle for shore, scramble out, and give myself a good, hardy shake. I’m only a few yards downstream, and I can see Annie’s nest, but with the incline, I can’t see her. She’s buried in the middle of a huge leaf pile. I trot back, careful to keep my pace nice and slow. I make lots of noise so she can’t possibly be startled again.
And then her scent hits me. It straight up punches me in the face. Full-blown heat. Spicy and yeasty and musky like a pussy that hasn’t been washed in a while. Delicious. My wolf’s throat rumbles. He yearns to taste her. Desperately.
I don’t want to let him get near her like this, but I need to see the lay of the land before I shift, and very possibly, tumble into rut. I let him creep closer and lift himself onto his hindquarters to peer over the wall of leaves.
Fuck.
She’s naked.
Mostly.
Her skirt and panties are gone. She’s got her shirt on, but it’s unbuttoned and hanging open. She’s sitting up with her butt propped on her heels. Her belly and thighs are flushed. She has a dark, wiry bush, and along her slit, the curls are wet and matted from her slick.
My wolf growls. I muscle him down, reminding him of his limits. I am not like some in the pack.
Irule him. He snuffs down the deepest breath he can manage. She still smells like fear, but the scent is overpowered by the rich tang of her wet pussy. She’s getting herself ready to take my knot.
This is the best thing that’s ever happened in my entire life.
My mate is the most beautiful female in the world.
I am the luckiest male.
A little pink tongue peeks out from the top of her slit like the meat of a clam. I can’t tear my eyes away. My mouth waters.
She’s making a strange sound, a low, hungry moan. I have to do this now.
Please, Fate, don’t let me fuck this up.
I screw my eyes shut and become a man. Instantly, I recognize that my body is different. I’m bigger, swollen with muscle all over. Even my cock is thicker.
I feel like I’ve stepped out of a lake. That kind of unfamiliar heaviness. I shake out my arms and draw down a deep breath.
There’s no need to freak out. I’m fine. It’s normal. Mated males fill out. Max said he gained twenty pounds of muscle and an inch in girth overnight when he caught Elspeth.
I step forward and trip on a clump of leaves. Annie cries out.
Shit. My feet are bigger, too.
I steady myself on her shoulder. She cowers, ducking away, her neck bent so far that her chin is tucked to her chest. My wolf rumbles in my chest to reassure her, but instead of consoling her, it freaks her out even more. She wraps her arms tightly around herself and whimpers.
“It won’t hurt much,” I tell her, my wolf raspy in my throat. I pray that’s true. If she cries in pain, I’ll puke. I can hardly bear the scent of her fear with my human nose. My wolf doesn’t like it, but he also kind of takes her fear as his due. He’s huge, and he’s got really sharp fangs. Fear is a natural response from a smaller wolf.
But my mate shouldn’t be afraid around me. I’m not weak. I can protect her. And she must know I don’t want to hurt her. “Don’t cry, okay?” I say.
She moans louder.