Page 26 of Broken Rejected Mate

Again, I pause, something in my chest dropping at the sound of this. The tent, them building a small house together?Not for the first time since seeing Veva again, guilt pushes through me.

That night, when I turned her away, I hadn’t expected it to prompt her to leave the pack altogether. I’d had a sinking feeling, deep down, that she was going to point out what had been obvious between us for a while—the fact that we were mates.

I didn’t think the rejection would hit her hard enough that she would move to the Grayhide territory and live in a tent.

I’m just opening my mouth to respond to Sarina when there’s a knock at the door. I perk up, tip my head, and take a sniff of the air.

It’s Aidan, and he’s alone. Still, I steer Sarina into the living room and tell her to stay put when I go to the door.

“Morning,” Aidan says, grinning at me and holding out a canvas sack. “Dorian said this is for Veva.”

I stare at the bag, wondering what Dorian might be giving her, but reach out and take it, anyway.

Aidan raises his eyebrows at me, not too subtly trying to look inside the house. “Heard they’re staying with you—how’s that going? You have any time to train later?”

“Probably not,” I say, angling myself so he can’t see past me. It’s not that I don’t trust him—it’s that, right now, with Sarina behind me, I feel like I can’t really trust anyone. I believe Aidan, that he’s here, in the pack, to prepare himself for taking on Jerrod, but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to risk him being around Sarina. “Thanks, man.”

Closing the door behind me, I turn and peek into the bag, then suck in a breath. It’s several large bundles, of money, a heavy pouch that must be filled with coins. It’s a lot of money fora woman who was, apparently, living in some sort of shed that she built herself.

There’s an envelope, a few books, and a few other random personal items. My hands itch to reach, open the envelope and figure out what’s inside.

“What are you doing?” I startle, turning to find Veva standing in nothing but a large T-shirt at the bottom of the stairs, hands shaking as she takes Sarina by the shoulders and pulls her in, wrapping her arms around her.

“Sorry,” Sarina mumbles into her chest. “I tried to wake you—”

But Veva isn’t even paying attention to her daughter—her eyes are on me, the bag in my hand, pulled open at the top to reveal what’s inside.

“Is that mine?” she asks, and when I step forward to hand it to her, she practically yanks it out of my hands. All the familiarity, laughter, and warmth from last night is gone.

“Sarina,” she says, turning and pointing up the stairs. “Don’t leave that room withoutmaking sureI’m awake, and that I know where you’re going, okay?”

“We were building tables,” Sarina says, shrugging, a book held close to her chest. “Sorry.”

“Go upstairs. I’ll be there in a second.”

This is the first time I’ve heard Veva use anything but a gentle, loving tone with Sarina, and I realize it’s slightly my fault. The moment the girl is out of earshot, I lower my voice.

“I was just checking the bag—”

“You were snooping,” Veva frowns, crossing her arms over her chest. It seems like she’s just now noticing the fact that she’s still in her pajamas, but I can’t think about anything else.

I’m finding it very difficult to pull my eyes away from her long legs, from the hem of that T-shirt, from the way her crossed arms accentuate her chest, rather than hiding it.

“I don’t want Sarina going anywhere without me,” she says, looking pointedly at me, and though she’s not saying it, I hear it loud and clear:I don’t trust you, Emin Argent.

Chapter 15 - Veva

“Mom?”

I stand on the sidewalk outside the house, staring at it. Even just from here, I can see that something is different. The shrubs are well-cared for. The mailbox isn’t leaning, the grass is trimmed, the windows are clean and whole.

Emin is sitting in his truck on the curb. He refused to let us out of his sight. It’s annoying, but I understand, and am even grateful for him being there. After the Grayhide attack at the motel, I don’t hate the idea of having extra help.

“Sorry,” I say to Sarina, swallowing down the lump in my throat and taking her hand in mine. “Come on, let’s go.”

In my pocket is the note from Willow, telling me the camp misses us, but that she gathered up the things she thought we might want from our place as best she could. In it, she also thanked me for the effort to offer her safety in the Ambersky pack, but that she would be staying at the camp, with the others.

Mentally, I reach her words for stability as we walk up the sidewalk and I ring the doorbell. In my other pocket is the little card from my mother, inviting me to come over and talk to her.

---