The Tyrant Alpha's Rejected Mate (Five Packs #1)

This has gone on long enough. My feet hurt, and Killian does need to be at the gym. This match is important to Garrett and his family. His mother has been torn up since the failed coup. She started dropping by Abertha’s garden to plead his case, and now she comes over to help with my backyard garden every day.

She has a wicked green thumb. She said she never knew it before. She’d always been stuck in the kitchen. I’m not sure what exactly stuck her there, but she’s unstuck herself now.

A lot of females are branching out. Rowan convinced Ivo to teach her how to fight. Old Noreen is learning French cooking from Julia Child videos on the internet. Annie showed her YouTube, and it’s a good thing we all have unlimited data now.

Killian emerges from the kitchen. He knows by my tone that we’re done messing around. He’s wary. His hands are on his hips, too.

I narrow my eyes. “It’s either me or the sofa.”

“I pick you.”

My insides melt. It’s the baby. But also because I know it’s a hundred percent true. Killian is not an easy male to live with, but loving him comes as natural as breathing.

We’re fated mates, but that’s mere biology. It’s not respect. Care. Loyalty.

We have that. And maybe we’ve never said it, but it’s there, growing stronger every day as we navigate this strange connection that both of us now protect with our lives.

I didn’t know what I was doing when I let Abertha sever the bond. It wakes me up in a cold sweat sometimes, the thought of what I almost lost forever.

This blunt, bull-headed, arrogant male who would move mountains for me.

Who already has.

I rub my big belly, and worry furrows Killian’s brow.

“Braxton-Hicks? Do you need to sit?” He casts a pained look at the sofa stuck in the door.

“I’m fine. Baby’s bopping around. Everything’s okay.”

His panic recedes, and the bond fades to its usual reassuring presence. “I’d feel better if you sat. Your ankles are fat.”

“Screw you.”

“Hey, don’t threaten me with a good time.” He grins as he pulls two dining room chairs into the living room.

I sit. My dogs are barking. My wolf has been very quiet since the baby started moving. It’s like she’s afraid to bother him. Sometimes, though, like now, she rumbles in my chest, a soothing purr that calms the baby and his tiny, flickering wolf.

Killian sits beside me and rests his hand on the top of my mound. His wolf starts rumbling, too. It vibrates his fingers.

The baby kicks in delight, gets me hard in the ribs. I wince.

Killian’s wolf growls once, not scary, just bossy, and the baby goes back to squirming lazily.

“It’ll take a day or two to get a new sofa,” Killian says. “I’ll have to send someone to town.”

“I’ll pay for it.”

He rolls his eyes. All the females who want one have an online bank account now. Mine is growing at a greater rate than my belly. We can sell online now, too, and I was right—wolf branded goods are hot.

Killian doesn’t argue. He also won’t give me the chance to pay for it. That’s going to be a huge argument a few years down the road when the girls and I are making more money with farm-to-table stuff than his males earn at the fights. I can’t wait.

“Hey. I want to pick the fabric.” I wish I could give it a sniff, too, but neither my wolf nor Killian’s—nor Killian himself—will let me leave pack territory this close to giving birth.

“I’ll have whoever gets it text you pictures and you can pick. That work?”

It does. I lean my head on Killian’s upper arm. He drops a kiss on the top of my head and grabs the bottom of my braid.

“I liked that sofa,” he sighs.

I kiss the bulging muscle under my cheek. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

Abertha says sex is really great at this stage of pregnancy for moving things along. Also, I’m completely, utterly addicted to my mate.

Killian’s wolf purrs like a pleased pussy cat. The dirty voyeur.

“Una, I’d get rid of every stick of furniture in this place if it made you happy.”

I giggle. “I know.”

He nuzzles my hair. “I’d do anything for you. You’re the reason, Una.”

“For what?” I know, but I want to hear him say it.

“Everything. I love you, shy girl.”

“I love you, too, mate.”

Our hands find each other as we sit side-by-side, our wolves quiet and content, everything the way it ought to be—because we made it so.

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