Filed to story: Alpha's Regret: His Wrongful Rejection
I drop my gaze to the pot of water. “Careful. It’s really hot,” I say to cover the fact that I saw, and she knows it, and now her face is blazing pink.
She resettles herself, making sure she’s tucked tightly, and begins to gently shake tea into the strainers with her upper arms plastered to her sides to make doubly sure her wrap stays in place.
When our females approach the time that they become interested in males but don’t want attention from them quite yet, they’ll just wear their fur under their wraps for a few years. I guess Annie can’t do that. It’s all or nothing for her kind. I can’t even imagine.
What do they do if they’re in their skin but there’s a sound in the distance, and they want to know what it is? How do they crack bones to get to the marrow? What if they want to crack a walnut? Do they go ahead and lose a tooth?
Thankfully, by the time Annie passes me a cup, I’ve distracted myself from my hard-on so I can sit normally.
“I’ll have milk and sugar for you tomorrow,” I say and instantly regret it.
Her face blanches, and I clock the exact instant that the word tomorrow makes her remember that I stole her, and she doesn’t want to be here.
She’s going to ask me to take her home.
I can’t.
Not now. Not yet.
I hop to my feet, leaving my cup of tea on the floor.
“We have to go,” I bark. “I have something I need to do. Pack business. It won’t take long, but I have to go now. I’m late.” I’m making this up on the fly, keeping my mouth moving so she can’t get a word in edgewise. I start fussing around the den, putting the tins away and folding the quilt, being really loud about it.
I catch a whiff of fear. Annie struggles to her feet, gulping down her tea. I feel bad—it hasn’t had much of a chance to cool—but my chest is tightening, too, and my wolf is getting agitated. He doesn’t want to leave her either, and he’s pushing for our body. He thinks he’s better equipped to keep her here. I push him back.
“I’ll take you to the females’ tent. You’ll be comfortable there. They’ll feed you, and I’ll be back soon,” I say as I rush her out of the den and down the trail to camp. I yap the whole time, basically repeating myself. Her fear scent is kicking up, and she’s still holding her empty teacup. I didn’t give her a chance to put it down.
“I won’t be gone for long at all, and I’ll send a pup to get your yarn and needles. I’ll have them bring tea, too, and heat you up some water, whatever you want. It won’t take long at all.” I swear I’ve never babbled so much before in my life.
Thank goodness Elspeth is at the tent when we finally get there. It’s still early, so I wasn’t sure.
Elspeth was from North Border, so she’ll understand how strange all this must be for Annie—and she’ll make sure Diantha doesn’t get too out of hand.
“Ho!” I call out as I approach the camp-within-a-camp that the females have set up so they can watch the pups as they play on the obstacle course we rigged up in the big sycamore. The females have their own small fire pit, a canopy for shade, and a thick canvas tent where the babes can nap undisturbed. Well,less disturbed. Pups at play are loud.
“Justus!” Elspeth calls back fondly. “And Annie.” She smiles at my mate and gratitude fills my heart.
I didn’t say anything about Annie when I came back mated without her, and I’ve said nothing since. In the absence of facts, packs make up their own. I’ve overheard the whispers—there was something terribly wrong with her, she was too weak, too foul-tempered, too messed up in the head like the rest of the lost packs—and I was so proud, and my pride was so bruised, that I never spoke up. It shames me now.
The itchy, restless feeling I had when I woke rides me harder. I need to get out of here. Just for a little while. I need to figure out what to do without Annie’s scent in my nose, slowing down my brain and making my wolf rowdy.
“Do you want a cup, Alpha?” Elspeth asks.
I shake myself. “No, thank you.” I don’t correct her. My dam taught me better than to pick nits with elders.
While I was lost in my head, Elspeth urged Annie to a rocker by the fire and filled her empty cup from the kettle kept hanging on the tripod. The brew smells like tea, but it’s milky tan.
Annie sips and smiles. “Oh, this is lovely. You boil the leaves with the milk and sugar?”
Elspeth nods, dropping to sit in the chair next to my mate with her own cup. “We poured the water over the leaves in North Border, too, but here, they heat the leaves in the water and add the milk and sugar while it’s still boiling. And they use evaporated milk.”
Annie glances at the cup in her hand. “So that’s what this is? An evaporated milk can?”
Elspeth laughs. “More than likely. We tend to make do around here.”
“I was told we were out of milk and sugar,” I can’t help but grumble.
“You are out of it,” Elspeth says. “We don’t let ourselves get so low that we run out.”
I could point out that the females only have milk and sugar—or any staples—because we hunt, gather, or trade for it, but I remember too well the day when I was a pup that I declared to my dam that
I had provided the meat in her belly.
It had been my first kill, and I was so proud. The moment the words came out of my mouth, my sire snorted, shifted, and let his wolf snarf down the whole, juicy prime cut of steak on my plate. Once his wolf had licked his chops clean, he shifted back and said, “You might have given her a meal, but she gave you life, and if you think a piece of grizzled cow is worth anywhere near the same, you don’t value yourself nearly enough.” And then he ate my potatoes, too.
“Where’s Max?” I ask to change the subject.
“Over yonder.” She lifts her chin toward the bonfire. Most of our elders gather there in the mornings to warm their bones.
“Well, I need a word with him.” I shift awkwardly.
I don’t want to leave camp, but if I stay, she’ll ask to go home, and I gave my word. I’ve broken a solemn promise before, once, and I’d die before I did it again.
But how can I leave her, even for a moment?
Annie blinks at me, her brown eyes almost amber in the morning sun. They’re beautiful. And unsure. She’s looking to me for reassurance.
My chest tightens. I’ve never been so weak. She holds me in her hands. She could destroy me with a few words.
“You’ll be fine here with Elspeth. I’ll be back later,” I blurt and stride off like my heels are on fire.
I’m a coward. I’m afraid of a hundred-and-thirty-pound female with a wolf so small she could probably fit in a groundhog hole. I hope she doesn’t ever get that idea in her head. The animals flee when we arrive, but their tunnels are everywhere. If her wolf fled down there, I’d have to dig her out. It’d be a mess.
I should turn around. My wolf whines his agreement.
No. Annie isn’t going to freak out and hide in the groundhog tunnels, and if she does, she’ll be there when I get back.
I make a detour on my way to the bonfire and take great delight in sticking my head into Alroy’s tent and barking, “Bonfire. Five minutes. Bring Khalil.”
Alroy was dead to the world. He wakes up in a panic, fighting his blankets. I’m still smirking when I get to the elders sitting in their usual place on the downed log I planed and sanded into a bench for them a few years ago.
“Brothers,” I say, taking a seat beside Max.
They mumble “Alpha” under their breath, and I ignore it. “What tracks have folks seen since I’ve been gone?”
They perk right up at the prospect of fresh meat.
“Possible bobcat down by the gulch where Colm snared that grouse,” Max says.
Bobcat is not great eating, and in my opinion, their fur is a little too close to wolf to wear without feeling a little strange about it.
“My oldest said he saw pheasant in the mustard field,” Tarquin offers. That’s not far, only a half hour trek or so. I could be back before afternoon nap. If I fed Annie enough, she might doze off beside me, and I could watch her sleep in the daylight.
Or she could ask me to take her home.
“What about elk?” I ask. “Anyone seen elk?”
All the males shake their heads, and Rodric, our oldest packmate, rouses himself from a doze and shouts, “What did Alpha say?”
“He wants to know if anyone has seen elk,” Max shouts back.
“No need to holler,” Rodric grumbles, poking his finger in his ear to emphasize the point. It’s a joke that he’s been telling since I was a pup. He’s fully aware that he’s deaf as a doorknob. “I heard there’s elk up by the lake.”
“Oh, you heard, eh?” Max snorts.
“Which lake?” I ask.
“A big bull,” Rodric confidently answers the question I didn’t ask. “Fourteen points between both antlers.”
“The lake by the boundary to Salt Mountain,” Tarquin clarifies.
“The one with the bog worm?” I don’t need to mess with a bog worm when I’ve got Annie here. Their blood is like sap. If it gets in your hair, you might as well shave it all off, and I don’t know what I’d look like bald, but I doubt it’s an improvement.
“No, the one west of that.” Tarquin squints at me. “Why you asking? The smoker is stocked.”