Page 36 of Claiming His Rejected Mate

“We’ll take that risk,” Mara interrupts, her tone fierce. “We’re notasking you to fight our battles for us. We’re asking you to teach us how to fight them ourselves.”

I study them for a long moment. They’re young, inexperienced, but there’s fire in their eyes. I see my once exasperated heart in them. I can’t leave the defenseless when I know I can help.

Against my better judgment, I nod. “Fine. But we have to be careful. No one can know.”

They nod.

I take out some of the clothes from the wardrobe. It’s been stocked with changes of basic clothes. I pull out dresses, tops, and loose pants. I shove them into their arms.

“You have to be careful coming here. I know you’re willing to risk it all, but if you want to fight, you have to be alive.” They nod, taking the faux laundry and heading for the door.

“Only come at night. And always come in the guise of errands, to be safe,” I warn them right before I close the door after them.

The training starts the next night.

I clear a corner of my chambers, pushing aside the furniture to make room for sparring and drills. It’s cramped, but it’ll have to do.

Mara and the others throw themselves into the training with an intensity that surprises me. They’re rough around the edges, their movements awkward and uncoordinated, but they’re willing to learn.

We focus on the basics—footwork, stances, blocking. I show them how to use their smaller size to their advantage, how to out-think an opponent who relies solely on brute strength.

It’s exhausting but satisfying, a small rebellion against the suffocating control of the estate.

It’s almost cathartic to me. Being on the estate doesn’t feel so horrible and suffocating. I start to look forward to the sessions. They come in ones, sometimes twos. Moving my body, seeing the difference I’m making in their life, it makes me feel like I have a life again.

So when I hear a knock, I don’t feel the same stiffness I usually would. Instead, I have a small smile on my face, expecting to see Gina or Pita, or both of them. But when I open the door, the disappointment drains the color from my face.

It’s a woman I haven’t seen before. My wolf bristles at herpresence, sensing a threat. She is tall, muscular, like an experienced warrior, but also lean and gorgeous. Her eyes are copper, almost red, and her tan skin tells me she spends more time outside than she does within these walls.

“Who are you?” I ask, my hand still on the handle.

There’s a sentinel with her who doesn’t move at all. She scoffs and rolls her eyes.

My wolf snarls, not welcoming of her presence at all.

“Nina.” Her tone is curt, but the iciness seeps through. She peers into my room, but I don’t move to give her access.

“Open the door,” she demands.

“I don’t take orders from you.”

“You should,” she says with a dry laugh. “Make the wrong move and your life here will be more miserable. And don’t think I don’t know there’s something going on. The control rooms see everything. And I have my eyes on you. Soon enough, I’ll catch you in the act.”

“Yeah, like you have more power than the Alpha who has kept me? If you’re not more superior to Kieran, you have no say in what I do or not.”

“I’m the Beta’s sister. Just because you are valuable right now, doesn’t mean you’re no longer an Omega. And I will not hesitate to remind you of your rank.”

She whips around, her pin-straight ponytail bouncing as she stalks down the hall, her little sentinel dog following closely behind her. I become more cautious after this, making sure they come one by one, requesting services from the Omegas. But my worries remain.

A week later, Nina bursts into my chambers unannounced. Her presence, calm and cold, is stark against the sweating, panting Omegas, paused in their striking practice. Her dark hair is pulled back into a sleek braid, her sharp copper eyes scanning the room with obvious disdain.

I curse under my breath. I knew we should have ended the session sooner today, but they needed more practice with their footwork. Now Nina has evidence to confirm her suspicion.

The Omegas straighten and take a respectful pose. Their postures are stiff and I can smell the anxiety coming off of them.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?” she sneers, her voice dripping with mockery. “The prisoner playing soldier with the pack’s weakest links.”

“Nina,” I say evenly, stepping forward, “don’t you know the meaning of privacy?”

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