Page 27 of Rejecting his Mate

I squeeze my eyes shut, his breath hot against my skin. Turning my head to the side, I whimper, waiting for him to tear my throat with his teeth. The seconds tick by, turning into minutes, and nothing happens, so I pry open one eye and then the other.

He snaps his teeth at me and growls.

I lean back as far as I can to avoid his teeth. “Please don’t eat me,” I murmur.

Despite the show of aggression, the wolf is standing in front of me, but he has made no move to attack or harm me. I can smell the blood on him. I try to calm my pounding heart as I raise my chin and meet his eyes.

There is blood matting his muzzle, wet and glistening through the fractured sunlight that has sneaked through the leaves overhead. He looks demonic, but his eyes are transfixed on mine and my body suddenly feels awake.

I reach out toward his head with shaky fingers. Touching him will calm him, though I don’t know how Iknow that. There’s every chance I might lose a hand, but I don’t pull back as he freezes in place.

Panting hard, my fear no doubt seeping from my pores, I keep my gaze locked on his as I touch his fur. His body flinches away from my fingers at first, but he doesn’t step back as I stroke his head gently.

“Thank you for saving me,” I say. “I was dead for sure.”

The wolf backs away from me, snarling and barking. I snatch my hand back and lick my dry lips.

Lesson learned. My wolf stalker is not friendly.

He pads through the trees, stopping after a few feet to look back at me.

I frown at him.

He wants me to follow.

Shit.

Dalton is gone for now, but what if he comes back? I don’t want to hide behind my stalker, but I also know I’m only breathing because of him.

Better the devil you know, right?

I push my hands into the dirt and lurch to my feet. Everything feels hazy, and I use a tree to steady me. How am I going to go with him when I can barely stand?

“I don’t think I can,” I say, my head lowered, my palm pressed to my throbbing temple. I’m really dizzy.

The wolf hesitates for a moment before padding back over to me. He nudges me with his nose, urging me to walk. I take a step, and my knees fold, driving me to the ground.

My hands take the brunt of my fall, and I curl over,trying to still my wobbling vision. Saliva pools in my mouth as nausea swirls in my gut.

A wet nose presses against my arm, and I lift my head to look at him. “I can’t.”

The wolf steps back, lifts his muzzle, and howls into the air. The sound is loud.

A call for help.

Who the hell is he calling?

That is enough to make me scrabble to my knees. Whatever happens, I won’t just roll over and give up. I’ll fight to my last breath.

My body has other ideas. The movement makes me wheeze out a breath as pain flashes through my ribs. Adrenaline is flooding my system, heightening my primal response to the danger I’m facing.

Even so, terror skitters down my spine as I crouch in a fighting stance, ready to defend myself. I’ll not die on my knees in the dirt.

As I prepare to lash out, the wolf lowers into a bow, and the air around him feels charged with static. I know what is coming because I’ve seen and felt this same thing a hundred times.

I watch as he shifts from wolf into his human form. Bones break and crack, shattering apart and reforming, his body changing in the time it would take me to move from standing to sitting. It truly is magic, and I’m in awe as his wolf morphs into a male figure, crouching on the balls of his feet.

All I can see is dark hair and pale skin covered in scars, some pink and fresher than the white lines on hisribs. A tattoo runs from his neck down his arm to the base of his wrist.

---