Page 12 of Rejected Bullied Mate

He hummed softly in response, already slipping into sleep. It was a blessing because I didn't think I could answer any more heartbreaking questions. It'd only been a day, and I missed my little cottage so much. I stayed beside him for some time, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, reassuring myself that he was safe. As long as I drew breath, he'd always be safe.

Finally, I stood, steeling myself for spending my first night in Saltfang territory after so long. I crept towards the door, hoping to make it to my room in silence, leaving Kit's door cracked like he preferred. Taking one last look at my boy, I turned into the hallway—

And ran straight into a wall of muscle.

I gasped, hands shooting out to steady myself, finding nothing but warm, bare skin under my palms. Without even looking up, I knew it was Samson. Our bond thrummed, and my scent gland ached.

I jerked my hands back like I'd been burned, but there was nowhere to run. Slowly, I looked up to see his face. Samson's arms were crossed, his expression unreadable. The light overhead casts shadows across his sculpted torso, the ridges of his abs, and the sharp cut of his shoulders. He has always been strong, but time has hardened him, refined him into something even more intimidating. More intensely attractive.

Before I could stop myself, I inhaled deeply, savoring his scent of black pepper and cedar as it filled my lungs. Inside of me, two things stirred—my wolf, restless and yearning, and my witch magic, angry and volatile. The dichotomy was staggering, and I pressed a hand to my chest to try and stop the chaos. It was, of course, a futile gesture.

"You're a good liar," Samson mused, looking down at me. Had he always been so stupidly tall?

Then, his words hit me. "Liar? Excuse me?"

He nodded towards Kit's room. "Making all of this sound normal. Making him feel safe when we both know you'd rather be anywhere in the world but here."

I bristled, crossing my arms and mimicking his gesture. "You're not wrong about that. But I'm only lying because you're forcing me to. Everything I do is for Kit."

"Everything, huh? Does that include running, hiding, and keeping him from his father?"

His words stung, but again, he wasn't wrong, "I did what I had to."

"Did you? Or were you just upset that I wouldn't accept you as a mate back then?"

"You're a bully, Samson. You always have been." I knew I should be treading lightly, that the Alpha of an entire wolf pack wasn't the best person to have on your shitlist, but I couldn't help it.

My emotions had been bottled up for far too long, and the urge to tell Samson off for the things that he had done to me was too strong. The bond that was pulling us together didn't make any of this easier, because I was angry at myself for still being attracted to him after all these years.

His lips pressed into a hard line, and he looked at me from beneath heavy lashes. "Is that so?" he asked, voice deceptively quiet.

I nodded. "It's no wonder that I never shifted. Your bullying and the bullying of your pack drove my wolf into submission. The only thing that ever kept me strong was my son and the hope of a future somewhere outside this God-forsaken pack."

He leaned down, bringing our faces even closer together, reminding me at the worst possible time of how good it had felt to kiss him earlier. "If that's the case, why don't you run again, Kiera? It's what you're good at."

I scoffed, trying to step back but only finding the wall behind me. "I'm not stupid, Samson, I know you have your wolves watching every exit."

His smirk was slow, predatory, and his hands came up on either side of my head against the wall, fingers splayed out, trapping me. "Good. Although I wouldn't hate the idea of hunting you through the forest,mate. Maybe we'd get to see once and for all if there's a wolf in there or not."

I swallowed hard, heat blooming low in my stomach, even as anger filled me, "That's never happening. And I'm not your mate, not by my choice."

"The pack ceremony says you are. What we both felt says that you are. Mate, wife, whatever you want me to call you…you belong to me.”

My hands curled at my sides, magic prickling and whirling beneath my skin, eager to lash out. But as soon as I reached for it, the power slipped through my fingers like sand. I couldn't hold on to it no matter how hard I tried.

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut—my magic, my only real defense against Samson, was useless around himbecauseof him. Somehow, it knew that he was my mate and refused to answer me when I wanted to strike out against him.

I was helpless, pinned there while his scent curled around me, the closeness of his body igniting something deep in my core. I felt a surge of warmth as he moved closer, eyes on my face, drinking in every flicker of emotion like I was his prey.

My magic crackled once inside my chest, like a firework going off before fizzling out.

His grin was wicked, and I was fascinated as his tongue darted out to wet his lower lip.

I'd been cornered, trapped by his sheer size and proximity, and all I could do was breathe. I couldn't stop looking at his face, those eyes, and the lips that had pressed against mine. Samson was like the moon, and I was caught in his gravity. Part of me would do anything to get closer to him.

But that didn't mean that I wanted to.

I swallowed hard and pushed down the bond. It was all biology. That was all. He made a noise in the back of his throat, and I was sure he would devour me.

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