Page 29 of Rejected Bullied Mate

Kit nodded slowly. “Sometimes.” He curled his hands into tiny fists. “I keep having these dreams. About running. About being fast.” He looked up at me, his expression wary, like he wasn’t sure if he should say what he was thinking.

I already knew what was coming, though, and my heart was singing. My son. He was more like me than he could ever know.

“Am I…” His voice wavered, but he straightened his spine, looking me in the eye. Brave when it really mattered, just like his mother. “Am I a shifter? Like you?”

I wasn't going to sugarcoat it or bury the lead. Kit asked, and I was going to give him full honesty. "Yes. You are"

Kit sucked in a quick breath, eyes going wide. Then, like he didn't remember how to form real words, he simply said, "Oh."

"It's something to be proud of, kid. Something to be happy about. It's what you are now, like me. Like everyone else that came before us both."

"Even Mama?"

I should have expected the question, but it didn't make it any easier to answer. "Ah, well. Yes and no. Your mother is a shifter, but...she has trouble with her shift. Have you ever seen her change shape, Kit?"

He blinked, his excitement dimming just slightly. Then, shaking his head, he said, “No.”

I stared at him. “Not even once?" It was almost impossible to believe. The urge to shift became impossible to ignore during parts of the moon cycle, and imagining ignoring that for my entire life was painful.

Another shake of his head. “She never really mentions it."

I exhaled sharply. Kiera still hadn’t shifted. After all this time? I thought she was just ignoring the instinct.

An Omega’s shift wasn’t like an Alpha’s. It was more instinctual, tied deeply to their emotions and their bond to their mates. But Kiera had been hiding for years, suppressing that part of herself. And now, it had trickled down to Kit.

That wasn't going to happen. Not to my son. Kiera might be content pretending that the shifter part of herself didn't exist, but Kit was itching to shift. To embrace his wild side.

I made a split-second decision and jumped into it before I could second-guess myself. “Do you want to learn?” I asked, watching him closely. “Do you want to shift?”

Kit’s entire body went still, like he was afraid if he moved, I’d take the offer back. “Really?!”

I couldn't stop my smile. "Yeah, really."

Kit's grin was so huge, his eyes so wide and eager that I was almost able to ignore how much this was going to piss Kiera off. She could be mad, or yell, or whatever she needed to do. But she wasn't going to let her rejection of her shift affect Kit any longer. I'd be damned if I let him spend another day confused about the shifter side of himself.

I walked Kit out into the middle of the backyard, crouching down in front of him and resting my hands on his little shoulders. His face was suffused with happiness and an unshakeable trust that threatened to crack my heart in half. Damn. Even after being separated for seven years, a son's trust in his father was still absolute.

“Alright,” I said, keeping my voice calm, steady. “Close your eyes.”

Kit obeyed immediately, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Take a deep breath,” I instructed, and he did, inhaling slowly and deeply. “Now another.”

I watched as he followed my lead, his small shoulders rising and falling as he breathed in the crisp afternoon air. I breathed in time with him unconsciously, my need to guide him through his shift instinctual.

“Good,” I told him quietly. “Now, I want you to listen to your body. There’s a part of you that isn’t just you, Kit. A part of you that’s waiting. Have you felt it before?”

Kit nodded, eyes still closed. “In my dreams.”

A sharp pang struck me deep in my gut. He’d felt it. He’d known it was there, the same way all shifters did. But he hadn’t been able to reach it. Was it the same for Kiera? Had she spent all those years of her life with that part of her straining for release? It must have made her miserable at times, caused her so much pain.

I pushed the thought away, focusing on my son. Kiera was an adult, but Kit was a child, and he needed my help.

“Good,” I said again. “That part of you—your wolf—it’s not separate from you. Itisyou. But you have to trust it. You have to let it come.”

Kit furrowed his brow, concentrating so hard I almost smiled. Almost, because as I watched him, patient and unrushed, the guilt started creeping in. I should have been patient back then, too. With another pack member who could have used this help, even if we had been nearly the same age at the time.

I should have helped Kiera the way I was helping Kit now. Instead, I’d done nothing. I let her struggle. I let everyone think she was weak, let her bear the weight of their judgment alone. She’d been a girl, an Omega, shouldering something I maybe could have eased. But I hadn’t even tried.

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