Page 21 of Broken Rejected Mate

I hold his gaze, hearing what he’s not saying—those are his children. One night is one thing, but having Sarina and I in that house, when it could draw a threat to his boys? Not something he wants to do.

And I respect it.

“They can stay with me.”

All the eyes around the table swing to Emin, who’s sitting with his arms crossed, looking relaxed. But his eyes are on me, focused. Determined.

I square my jaw. My first instinct is to say,no way in hell, but then I’m reminded of the way he leapt across the balconies at the motel. How he took that risk to protect us.

Sarina shifts against my side, and I look up to the ceiling for a moment. Logically, staying with Emin makes the most sense. I know him, and I know he’ll protect us. I’ve already seen it.

“Fine,” I say, and watch as surprise moves over Dorian’s face. It probably doesn’t make sense to him, the way I reacted in the hospital room, only to give in instantly to this. But I have to do what’s best for my daughter, even if it makes me uncomfortable.

No matter how grateful I am to Emin for protecting us at the motel, I promise myself I won’t forget. I won’t forget leaving my home, going through my pregnancy alone. I won’t forget raising my girl in that camp, and I won’t take my eyes off the goal here—to help Sarina grow up into an amazing woman, and get her far, far away from here.

I level a stare at Emin, hoping he can read exactly what the expression on my face is saying.

We’ll stay with you, but you arenotforgiven.

Chapter 12 - Emin

“Emin, wait—”

The moment I hear my father’s voice, I want to snap at him, tell him to shut up. Veva and Sarina are in front of me, walking to my SUV so I can take them back to my place.

It feels right, to have them there with me. And maybe it will give Veva and I an opportunity to really talk.

I turn and face my father. He’s slightly out of breath from following me out, and blinks, wiping the back of his hand over his forehead.

“I don’t want to hear it, Dad,” I say, quickly, feeling the weight of Veva’s stare on my back. I know what this looks like to her.

Dad’s brow wrinkles, his head rearing back. “Emin, I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes.” His eyes slide behind me, and I imagine he’s looking at Veva now, before returning his gaze to me. “I just wanted—”

He’s going to warn me away from this, say that offering a Marone a spot in my house is a huge mistake. Never mind the fact that I’m already the right-hand man for the alpha leader. That, realistically, there’s no higher I can climb.

And never mind the fact that it washiswife—my mother—who betrayed our family and dragged our name through the mud,notme.

“We can talk later,” I say it with finality, turn around, and lengthen my strides to catch back up with the girls. Veva helps Sarina boost into the backseat, closes the door behind her, then turns to me.

When her hand lands on my chest, I feel that heat through my shirt, and have to suck in a breath, shocked by the instant, sticky lust that rolls through me. Of course, I’ve had Veva Marone before, but not like this. We were together as teenagers—when we were both fumbling and confused, trying to figure out what we liked.

Her body was different then, a straight line from top to bottom. As a teenager, she was so, so skinny—enough that I could run the tip of my finger over her ribs. Shame prickles the back of my neck at the realization—I should have been inviting her to dinner, not hiding her away.

But now she has curves. Hips and thighs. Lines that I would like to trace, relearn.

“Listen,” Veva says, lowering her voice and glancing quickly back at the SUV, as though to make sure Sarina can’t hear her. “This doesnotmean I forgive you, do you understand? I’m grateful that you’re letting us stay with you, and I can admit that we need the extra protection, but you and I?” she pauses, her eyes flicking back and forth between mine, like she’s trying to make sure I’m hearing her loud and clear. “We arenotfriends, Emin.”

The sound of my name on her tongue makes my skin flush. I open my mouth, wanting to tell her that I’ve never wanted to be herfriend—but she’s already turning away, grabbing the passenger door handle and hauling herself up into the SUV without my help.

Sighing, I circle the vehicle and hop into the driver’s side, turning over the ignition and getting the air conditioning going, unable to keep the smile from my face when I hear Sarina let out a sigh of relief from the back seat.

“That’s nice,” she says, and when I glance back at her, see the way she’s looking at the vents, I realize that she’s not used to air conditioning. Veva runs her hands over her arms and leans back in her chair, and when I adjust the vent so it’s not blowing at her, she glares at me like I’ve slapped her, then turns promptly toward the window.

We ride the rest of the way to my place in silence, the town passing us by quietly through the windows. A pop song plays muted, just under the sound of the air conditioner.

When we pull up to the house and into the driveway, I lead the two of them up to the front, pull my keys out, and unlock the door, suddenly self-conscious of my home.

It’s the same as many of the other houses around here—a hacienda style home, with tan stone and flat roofs, designed to let the heat out and keep the inside nice and cool. It’s clean, simple—I don’t own much, and spend a lot of the day out, anyway.

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