Page 48 of Kidnapped Rejected Mate
“Ha!” Tara wipes an imaginary tear from under her eye. “His pack, or you? His supreme, or you? Following the rules, oryou? You think he’s going to change his entire personality just because you had a couple of good fucks?”
“Shutup,” I grind out through clenched teeth. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“And justwaituntil the baby comes,” Tara says, spinning around on her heel and starting to walk away from me so I can’t see her face. “He’ll tell you things are going to be different for your kids, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned about shifters, it’s that you all can’t stop thinking about your place in the pack. And that will lead every single one of you to use your children to get ahead, even if that means stripping them of their autonomy. Just like your parents did to you.”
“What are you talking about?” I say, even as I knowexactlywhat she’s talking about.
I heard her whispering to me that day in the woods. I’ve felt the truth of it in my own body, sought out the growing life inside me with my magic. Avoided drinking, just in case it was true.
“Don’t play stupid,” Tara mutters, picking up a stick and running it along the top of the stump. “Just—”
But then, Tara freezes, her eyes going wide, her body as still as a deer in the headlights. There’s a sound from the trees behind me, and Tara vanishes.
Fear creeps up into my throat, sharp and acrid, and I can’t help but think the only reason Tara would run like that is if whatever’s behind me is much, much scarier than she is.
Chapter 25 - Soren
Aurela is missing.
When I woke up this morning, Aurela was still fast asleep, curled into the bed, the comforter pulled up tightly under her chin, a slight smile on her perfect lips.
At first, I remained in bed, just watching her breathe steadily, brushing the hair out of her face where it caught on her nose. Every morning I wake up next to her feels like a dream, and it takes a while for me to remember that it’s really happening—after so long pining for her, wanting her, suffering over the fact that she would be marrying someone else, I finally have her. She’s mine, and I’m hers.
After spending far too long lying in bed, gazing at her and feeling like a lovesick fool, I took a deep, steadying breath and swung my legs over the side of the bed, feeling for the old slippers Gramps got me years ago.
As an alpha, I typically only need around four hours of sleep each night, unless I’m healing or have just done a big hunt. As an omega, Aurela needs closer to eight or ten hours of sleep. Many of the alpha-omega couples I know have to choose between going to bed together or waking up together, and I prefer going to bed at the same time.
Which means I’m up six hours before her most days.
So I forced myself up and to the bathroom, shaving, showering, being as quiet as I could. Yesterday, I took Aurela shopping, and now the shower doesn’t just have my soap but is lined with a collection of pink and purple bottles, things that smell like her when I pop them open, smell them.
I toweled off, ran a hand through my curls, sprayed them with curl solution. When I opened the door and walked back into our bedroom, she was gone. The bed empty, the comforter flat where her body had been just half an hour before.
Now, I walk quietly through the house, careful not to wake Gramps, trying to stuff down the panic in my head. I’m sure she must have woken up hungry or needed something from the living room. There has to be a good reason for her not being in bed.
But she’s not in the kitchen, not on the couch. And the deep-seated fear in my chest starts to rise with every passing moment I look for her and don’t see her.
Her scent starts to thin out, and I realize she’s gone. Not in our house at all.
“What’s going on?” Gramps asks, appearing in the doorway to his room with his cane, staring at me grumpily as he rubs at his eyes. “Why are you sneaking all around?”
As an older alpha, he usually sleeps a bit longer than me, his age requiring more rest.
“Nothing, Gramps,” I start to say breathlessly, but he speaks again.
“Don’t lie to me, Soren. What is going on?”
“She’s gone,” I breathe, standing up straight, meeting his eye.
He stares right back at me, and I don’t know if it’s just me, or if the question hangs in the air—did she leave? Did she choose to walk out of this house?
Maybe she changed her mind about everything with her parents. Maybe she woke up this morning, realized I was in the bathroom, and thought of it as the perfect chance to escape.
“Ow!” I duck away from Gramps when he swats at me with a rolled magazine, but he still manages to hit me over the head, my damp curls rolling over my forehead.
“What in the hells are you waiting for?” he asks, and I can tell from the look in his eye that he knows exactly what I was thinking, and his opinion is that I’m an idiot. “Golookfor her!”
He’s right. Aurela wouldn’t leave without telling me.
