Page 26 of Sold Rejected Mate
“No,” she whimpers. “Don’ttouchme.”
I drop down to my knees and put a hand on her shoulder—and to her credit, she literally didjustsay not to touch her. She swings out, connecting her elbow to the side of my face. I reel back, blinking more in confusion than pain as a thin trail of blood runs down the side of my face.
“Shit, sorry!” She reaches out, cupping her hands around my face. “Are you—are you okay?”
I swallow, more from the wonderful feeling of her palms on my cheeks, the frisson of the touch there. Everything about her skin on mine is electric, driving through flesh and bone and arriving at the wolf. Waking him, rousing him.
Letting out a rough, low sound in agreement, I pull back away from her. If she keeps her hands on me, touches me for one more second, I’m going to do something I regret. I’m going to climb into this bed, cover her body with mine, and bury my nose in the crook of her neck until I can find her scent. Learn it.
“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice softer, and I realize that though she has her voice back, I still haven’t asked her for her name.
And I can’t do it now—I’m already standing, backing away from her, shaking my head as she props herself up, those dark green eyes shining back at me through the dim light.
“Don’t be,” I practically croak before stumbling back and closing her door behind me, like it might keep me from crossing a line I won’t be able to uncross.
Chapter 13 - Valerie
“Alright,” Xeran Sorel says, staring at me from the front of the pack hall. He glances first at me, then to Lachlan, then to his wife. Letting out a sigh, he says, “You are facing charges for destruction, arson, and the use of magic, according to the laws of this pack. We understand you wish to keep your identity private for the sake of this court?”
The pack hall conference room is mostly empty, with only Xeran, Phina, me, and Lachlan sitting in attendance. Lachlan turns to look at me, and I can feel the surprise on his face, even if I’m not meeting his gaze.
“Yes, please,” I say, unable to meet Xeran’s gaze. My body just won’t allow for it; the pressure of standing before him is too much for the omega in me to handle. Especially in this context, when he’s about to hand out a punishment for what I’ve done.
“This is your opportunity to plead your case,” he says, sitting back in his seat.
Phina nods at me, encouraging, and I clear my throat, closing my eyes and figuring out where to start.
Should I start with my sixteenth birthday, my mother’s shaking, desperate insistence that Ineededto shift, that I didn’t have a choice? How my father threw me in the back of the truck and drove me out to the middle of the woods, saying he’d read online that it would be a good way to force the shift?
The three days I spent wandering home, crying and using magic to stay alive?
Or should I mention Xeran himself, taunting me with the others? His little group of bullies in high school—including Lachlan—have apparently become nice guys? All while the restof us didn’t have the luxury of turning into someone different. We were branded with the scars of that past, unable to shrug it away and call itself-development.
But talking about any of that isn’t going to help me. Instead, I start with that day at the diner.
“Look,” I say, clearing my throat, “yes, I’m a magic-wielder. But I didn’t start the fire on purpose that day. Magic has been screwing me for my whole life. When you have this thing inside you that you can’t control, that you can’t stifle, it’s basically torture.”
I shift in my seat, trying to find a comfortable position that doesn’t exist. Maybe these chairs are designed to make the person sitting in them uncomfortable.
“The magic builds up like pressure, like the worst migraine you’ve ever had,” I continue. “And that’s what was happening to me the day of the fire. I was at work—I was living a few towns over from here, out of the mountains, hiding in the walk-in. Trying to cool down. My boss found me in there, caught me crying and shaking like a junkie needing a fix. He fired me, but before I could leave, this asshole…” I close my eyes, thinking about Frosted Tips for the first time since that day. “It doesn’t matter. My manager said he was done making excuses to the customers, done covering for me when I disappeared in the middle of a shift.”
I rub my temples, remembering the humiliation, trying even now to keep the magic—brought to the surface by anxiety and stress—down. “I was there for three months. Before that, it was a gas station, a cleaning service. I was already three months behind on rent. And…”
This is the part I don’t want to talk about. Because it’s the most incriminating part. Everyone in Silverville knows LucianWinward, knows that entire family. They know you don’t deal with him or associate yourself with those people.
But when I heard that he might have a cure for magic, might have something that could make it go away, I signed up. Paid him what I could and “financed” the rest.
I tell them this, looking mostly at Phina because I can’t stomach looking at Xeran. But looking at Phina hurts, too, seeing the shame and disappointment on her face, knowing she’s thinking about all the harm her brother has caused.
“I was living off of ramen and free samples from the grocery store. They claimed the interest on what I borrowed was only going up—I just didn’t have anything to give them. So they took me.”
Lachlan stiffens in the seat beside me, and I swallow, shifting away from him, not able to look at his face. Not wanting to know what he thinks about all this.
“That night, my manager threw me out, and I was planning to walk to the bus. That’s when they pulled up—”
“Lucian?” Xeran interrupts, and I clear my throat, raising my chin for the first time to look at him.
“No.” I swallow. “Your brothers.”
