Page 3 of Broken Rejected Mate

“No eggs?” Sarina practically whines. I pop open our cooler and peer inside, knowing she’s not going to want the cold oatmeal I’ve been prepping in glass jars.

Ten minutes later, we’re standing outside the large black grill in the center of camp, gratefully receiving a scoop of scrambled eggs cooked in bacon grease, and a surprise slab of breakfast ham.

“Wow,” Sarina says, eyes wide as she looks down at her plate. Meat like that is rare around here. And when it comes around, Herold usually throws it into a chili.

Herald, the large man standing behind the grill with an old spatula in his hand, gives her a gummy smile and waves the spatula at us. “You’re my best customers. Plus, Rina, you’re the one who’s gonna get out of here, make something of yourself.”

Sarina dips her head the way she always does when someone around here says that. Like she’s not accepting the compliment, but is accepting the responsibility of it. As if she genuinely owes it to Herald to make something of herself each time he slips her a little more food.

Before we leave, I hand him a stone, imbued with magic that should ease his aching back.

“Thanks, Vev,” he says, winking at me. “Keep ‘em coming.”

We head to a picnic table and slide in beside a few other women and kids. While the other kids laugh and play, chatting, Sarina pulls out her book and cracks it open, propping it up on a rock in front of her plate.

“Always reading,” one of the women says, shaking her head and giving me a knowing smile, as though this isn’t exactly what I want for Sarina. “She’ll grow out of it, someday.”

I smile at the woman, but put my hand on Sarina’s knee under the table. She knows how some of the people around here see her constant reading. But it’s going to get her out of here, get her a scholarship to one of the omega-only colleges in the Llewelyn territory.

In our shack, magicked into near non-existence and trapped beyond belief, is the bundle of bills and tin of change, containing all the money I’ve been saving for Sarina since the day I found out she was growing in my stomach.

It was too late for me—I was already rejected, alone, having run off from the only home I ever knew. But the possibility for her, the new life growing inside me, it gave me hope. Sarina has always been the most beautiful thing in my life.

Even if her red-gold hair makes my stomach twist sometimes, when I catch it in the light. Even if she sometimes gets a wrinkle between her eyes I know didn’t come from me. Even if I see him always in the tiny turns of her speech, how she tilts her head.

I love Sarina, even if half her DNA came from the man who shattered my entire world.

Chapter 2 - Emin

I find Dorian where he always is in the mornings before a council meeting—hunched over the communal coffee pot, pilfering the first potent drops, weakening it for the rest of us.

“There goes the world’s greediest alpha leader,” I joke, surprised when he actually jumps, turning around and glaring at me, then taking a sip of what must be still-scalding coffee.

Dorian is a big dude—his beard a little unkempt, his hair not as neat as usual. Bags hang under his eyes, which are shadowed and bloodshot.

“Everything all good, man?” I ask, stepping forward the replace the coffee pot, to keep the coffee from scalding on the hot plate. He blinks at me, as though taking a moment to process what I’ve said.

“Oh,” he finally says, the word coming out half as a cough. “Yeah. Everything is fine. Hoping they have good news for us today And…the twins. Still not sleeping through the night.”

The twins, Noah and Oliver—my sister’s brand new babies with two heads of dark hair that perfectly match Dorian’s. Colicky, apparently, and two complete handfuls. At first, I loved being around them, holding one in each arm and thinking about what it would be like to teach them everything I knew.

To take them swimming, show them how to build anything they wanted.

Except Noah and Oliver aren’t mine—not really. Not in the way that I want.

Now, I try to infuse the situation with some amusement. “That’s rough. You look like shit, man.”

Dorian laughs, shakes his head, and shuffles out of the room. I follow him to the big meeting room, which smells like old carpet and, faintly, Janice’s perfume.

“Good morning, boys,” she chirps, grinning and gesturing to the table. “Got some bagels for the big meeting today!”

“Sweet, thanks,” I give her a kiss on the cheek, which makes her blush.

Janice is pushing back through the door as I drop into one of the empty chairs, grabbing an everything bagel and slathering it with a thick layer of cream cheese. Dorian lowers into the chair next to me and stares straight ahead, going completely comatose while drinking his coffee.

The first person to arrive is my father, who looks tired and chastened.

Without meaning to, I feel the slightest bit sorry for him, especially after everything that happened to him last year. His wife—my mother—turning out to be behind a major theft. Her betraying the pack and family. Kidnapping my sister, Kira, and trying to sell her to the Grayhide alpha leader, a man notorious for his poor treatment of omegas and everyone else.

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