The Tyrant Alpha’s Rejected Mate (The Five Packs Book 1)

My body hits the rock wall at force. Mari screams. Annie clutches Kennedy’s black coat, using her whole weight to hold the wolf back. There are too many—he can’t take them all. I stagger back to my feet, limp forward until I’m back in front of my girls.

My heart thuds, panic momentarily deafening me. I can’t show fear.

I’m surrounded by wolves and males. The males are ours. The wolves aren’t. They’re huge and shaggy and yellow-eyed. There’s only one of their kind in human form. He looks like a castaway. His long hair is matted, and there are claws jutting from his mud-encrusted hands and feet. I can’t make out his features behind his tangled brown beard, but I can see his fangs.

I’ve never seen one, but I have no doubt they’re Last Pack. On our land.

Terror skitters up my spine, but I stay stock still. If I show fear, they’ll attack. The air is thick with aggression.

Eamon sneers down at me. “Tell the freak of nature to shift back, Alpha.” The word drips with scorn.

Kennedy’s wolf is not going to listen to me. He’s a beast, and he’d never leave us undefended.

“Do it, or we kill it.” He snaps, and six Last Pack wolves stalk forward, so close that their musky filth burns my nose. Kennedy’s wolf bares his teeth, and he doesn’t give an inch, but he knows he’s outnumbered.

“Now, or I put it down.” Eamon’s cold, rheumy eyes bore into mine. He’s not bluffing.

Anger and fear make my voice tremble. “Shift back.”

By some miracle, she does. Kennedy pops straight to her feet, fists balled, guarding us with her body as if she were still in her fur. She is a fierce wolf.

Eamon laughs and calls over to the castaway. “Justus, you sure you don’t want the broken one, too? She can control the others for you.”

Justus spits and then scratches his hairy chest. “No. We trade for unmated females. She stinks like alpha.” Justus shuffles closer and sniffs the air. “And you promised us three. There are only two.”

“You can fuck the freak in her human skin just fine.”

“Not talking about the blessed one. Talking about the blonde.” He points at Mari.

Mari’s not mated.

I glance at her. Her eyes are downcast. Her cheeks are pink.

Mari’s mated?

No way. I’d know.

“Take her anyway,” Eamon says, sneering. “She might not bear y’all pups, but that means you’ll get more use out of her, right?”

Mari sobs. I stiffen my spine, praying she sees and follows suit. Already, there are a dozen yellow-eyed wolves tracking her, salivating. Her fear even tickles my nose.

Get mad, girls. Get mad, I think at them as hard as I can. I wish I was magical like Abertha.

I need magic to get out of this shit.

They’re going to ambush Killian, and of course, he’ll kill them all, but what will happen to my girls while he does?

“You got so many you can use them thus?” Justus spits in the dirt and stalks back to his wolves, grumbling.

Eamon shrugs at Lochlan, and they wander off to sit on a log beside a cold fire pit, knives in their hands. Last Pack and a half dozen males, including Finn and Alfie, lounge around the clearing. In the woods beyond, I scent more Last Pack and a handful of other A-roster males and elders. And Fallon.

That traitorous rat.

That idiot.

What did they promise him? A shortcut to A-roster? He’d fall for it. He’s always wanted more, faster, easier.

After he helped Lochlan dump me at Eamon’s feet, he scurried off to hide. After this, I’m going to bring him back to life to beat him to death with my shoe.

The girls were already here when I arrived. They’re bruised and shaken and scared out of their wits, but there’s no sign they were in the fire. It must have been a distraction.

This was clearly an elaborate plot, and it’s going to fail so quickly, if I blink, I’ll miss it—if I don’t get killed in the chaos when Killian attacks.

The males in the woods are trying to hide their scents with pine needles and acorns, but Killian won’t be fooled. He won’t come in his human skin, and his wolf isn’t going to fall for hunter tricks. He is the predator. This is going to be a bloodbath.

Have they not been watching Killian all these years? It doesn’t matter if they outnumber him twenty to one. He’s a monster, and he is relentless.

And he saved himself for me. Kind of. And he apologized to me sincerely. And he remade my nest.

And he’s a backwards Neandertal who loses his marbles when he finds out a grown ass woman had a lover or two.

Did he think I was home crocheting all this time?

I mean, I was. A lot. My escapades were few and far between. I wasn’t sneaking off into the bushes after every moonlight swim like his cousin Ashlynn does. No judgement, not from me, but damn, Killian is as big a hypocrite as any male in this pack.

Of course, he is. He’s the alpha. And I got caught up in his scent and his muscles and his growly “mine” bullshit that I forgot that I know who I’m dealing with.

Killian Kelly has always been a caveman, and if I had any pride, I would sit back and watch the Quarry Pack’s version of the Roman Senate try to “et tu, Brute” his ass.

Except accidents happen. Fate is capricious. What if he gets hurt?

I need him.

And—maybe something else.

He did ruin a magical moment back at his cabin. Again.

In the nest, I’d been perfectly content for the first time since I was a very little girl. I was where I belonged. Knotted and held by my mate who belongs to me. My leg hardly ached at all. I’d been lost in a hazy daydream.

I had a family. A place. A person. I had actually been eyeing Killian’s throat. I was going to bite him. I would have if he hadn’t thrown a temper tantrum because we’re not living in the nineteenth century anymore.

But he did.

And then he came back.

And he tried to make amends.

Because despite what he’s about to do to these males, he isn’t a monster.

He’s mine.

And he knows exactly where I am.

Our bond is hella strong now. I can’t shut it off. It’s like a troglodyte newsfeed. Find. Kill. Destroy.

He’s getting closer every second.

I called him when Fallon threw me onto the ATV. I did it without hesitation. Killian will come for me, and he’ll prevail.

He’ll know he’s walking into a trap. This isn’t high quality plotting the Byrnes are doing. It’s about what you’d expect from males who get their heads knocked around for a living.

At first, in the panic of the moment, I worried the bond wouldn’t work, but it’s not delicate anymore. It’s as sturdy as a sweet potato vine. Tender and new, yes, but when I reach out, Killian’s there. All of him. Like I’m a glass bottom boat in his brain.

I don’t think he’s entirely aware. If he was, he’d hide some stuff.

I can see everything. I’m trying hard not to, but it’s just there. And the Byrnes are sitting quietly, picking at their claws, and the other males are squatting, scratching their balls. The silence is jangling my nerves.

I try to stay mad. If I stop for a second, I’m scared. My wolf is not big or strong. She’s no match for any of the males here. Killian is fast, but he’s not supersonic.

I think Fallon would help me if it came down to it, but I can’t believe he got pulled into this nonsense in the first place. He clung to me so much when I lived with the Campbells because he’s the fourth of five kids, and he was pretty much neglected. I bet Eamon and Lochlan paid him lots of attention. Fed him a bunch of garbage. And they’re going to get him killed.

My anger surges, and my wolf grumbles. I swallow the sound. I have to keep cool. Soon enough, everything’s going to go down, and I need to be clear-headed. I need a distraction.

The bond is right there.

Wide open.

I shouldn’t.

But I want to.

I find the cord and follow it, wading through the blare of Killian’s current panic. When I’m all the way in, I peek around, peering into his dark, cobwebby corners. It’s not pretty.

I thought there’d be more backwards thinking, but it’s almost all worry. Like ninety-nine percent premium, high-octane, all-consuming preoccupation.

Is Gael’s left hook weaker than his right? Why is Tye distracted and pissy for no reason? Nuala’s bloodwork came back not looking so great. The heating bill is going up and new windows are expensive, but if he doesn’t lay the money out now, will they only get more expensive? Was the smaller purse last month at Salt Mountain a sign of things to come or just Salt Mountain being cheap?

It goes on and on like a library with endless shelves of unsolvable problems and things he can’t control.

His panic and rage in this moment scream like a fire alarm, but underneath, the vibe is not much better. How does he function this way?

I go searching, poking around for something that’ll temper this new understanding. I don’t want to feel bad for Killian Kelly. He’s a dick. And his wolf’s a dick, too, he’s just a little smoother about it. Making me think he was chill. He’s the one who really lost it back there, going for my neck with his fangs.

Over on the logs, the Byrnes are muttering to each other. The scent of fear is beginning to mingle with the reek of aggression. It makes my nerves jumpier. Scared, panicking animals are more dangerous than aggressive ones.

I calm myself by rooting around in Killian’s psyche, looking for something that isn’t anxiety, but when I find the good stuff, I don’t feel any better.

It’s a new memory. The images set my skin on fire. I’m grateful Lochlan and Eamon have their backs to me.

I can see earlier from Killian’s point of view—my boobs bouncing, my belly jiggling, my fingers furiously rubbing my clit. I look—wanton. Unlike myself. As if I don’t have a care in the world. Like I’m enjoying myself.

And I know what he felt when he sank inside me. The overwhelming awe.

He felt at peace. All the noise faded, and there was nothing but my breath, my soft cries. His soaring heart.

I am his reward.

And in a burst, I know why he’s done all the things he’s ever done. Every win in the ring. Every beatdown outside of it. Every hour of training in the brutal heat or cold. Every time he roused the males from their beds for a midnight run through the mud and rain and snow. Every rule. Every piece of justice dispensed with his fist or claw.

It was for me. To make me safe.

I see the echo of a memory—a faint glimmer that ignites an answering memory buried deep inside me.

Killian and I are children, huddled together in a bed, bandaged, dried blood still caked in our nail beds and hair. Abertha and Killian whisper, but I can’t follow the gist. I’m in too much pain. I have to trust him. When he raises a cup to my lips, I have to believe he is doing the right thing. And I do. Because he is my mate. I trust him in my bones.

And then I understand it all.

I sway. Kennedy steps forward to brace me up.

Killian did it all for me.

He changed this pack and everyone in it through the sheer force of his will, for me. Because of the kind of world he wanted for me to live in. Not our young—me.

In his imperfect, clumsy, hypocritical way, he made a pack where I could build beehives alone without worrying about a male coming by and taking advantage. And Old Noreen is in charge of the kitchen instead of begging for leftovers outside of the lodge. Where Dierdre can go on runs with Liam, and Conor and Jimmy can live together, and no one would consider driving them out of camp because we don’t do that kind of shit anymore.

And Killian didn’t even mean to change everything. It’s just when you start insisting that folks behave decently to each other—I guess it kind of snowballs.

I’m not sure how to feel now.

When we were children, he gave me up. We could have fought together, side-by-side, but he took the choice away from me.

But we were so young. Too young to make those kinds of decisions.

It all clicks into place.

I need him.

I need to go away with him, be alone, piece this together. Remember everything.

But we’re in the middle of a coup, and Killian is going to blaze in any second, rip the heads off half our fighting males, and roll them at my feet.

I know this because the image is flashing through the bond now. He’s close, approaching from the north, upwind, and he’s scouting the situation through my eyes.

I try to let him know the positions of the other males, but I’m not sure if I succeed. I don’t know how to work this connection between us, especially since he’s sending me a flood of desperate reassurances tinged with bloodthirsty rage. It’s hard to get anything through that mess.

I signal I’m okay. To be calm. Smart. I have no idea if it gets through.

My shoulder aches from where I hit the rock wall, my leg throbs from rough handling, and my heart lifts in happiness. Here comes my mate. He’s racing to me, and he’s going to do what he’s always done—protect me. Rescue my girls. Make the pack safe.

And he’s going to decimate our numbers. None of these males are leaving these woods. There’s no doubt in my mind.

My wolf’s hackles raise. She senses her mate closing in, and she’s eager to watch him bleed out her enemies. I want that, too. They put their hands on me. They terrorized my girls. Destroyed our cabin.

Worse, this whole plot is about taking us back to a time where the males are the only ones with a say, and there’s no need to work anything out with a female because might makes right. They look around at happy females, and think: There’s something wrong with this picture.

It’s a little ironic that my mate is about to shut down their little insurrection with the might of his fists. Or claws. Probably both. But I have no pity for Eamon or Lochlan. They’re trash. The Last Pack males are enemies, pure and simple.

But for the other Quarry males—especially Fallon—it doesn’t have to be this way. They must have been convinced somewhere along the line that females with phones and ice cream dates are a hell of a lot more dangerous and offensive than they are, and that points to them being stupid, not necessarily evil.

They’re going to die in these woods, too, though.

A lot of females will lose mates. Ma Campbell—who took me in when she already had five of her own— will lose her son.

And in the chaos, what happens to my girls? The one called Justus is still laser focused on Annie and Kennedy.

I can’t let this happen to my pack. For good or ill, this is my family. We rise and fall together, and that’s a lot harder, and a lot messier, than it sounds.

I have to stop my mate from slaughtering a dozen misguided males who don’t want my friends and I to have phones. Because they’re going to change. We’re going to make them. We’re not leaving them behind. Like I’ll never leave my girls.

But Killian is flying in with claws unsheathed. He won’t hesitate. There’s only one thing that’ll make him pause.

I really don’t want to do this. And I am going to regret it so hard for the split second it’ll take for the Byrnes to kill me if this goes south.

I can’t think of another plan, and time is running out.

Fuck it. I’m reckless in a tight corner. That’s my origin story.

I step forward, heading for the firepit. Lochlan and Eamon look up.

“Una,” Mari hisses. “What are you doing?”

“Bitch, sit your ass back down.” Eamon points his knife.

I keep coming, sucking down a deep breath. My bad knee hurts like hell, but I make my way toward the pair of them. They’re still sitting like they haven’t got a care in the world. The Last Pack wolves are sniffing the breeze, growling low in their throats.

Killian’s almost here.

I don’t want to do this. My leg drags more than usual, but I put one foot in front of another.

I round the log the instant Killian’s wolf breaks into the clearing. Lochlan seizes me at the same moment. There’s a prick at my neck. His arm crushes my chest, and his knife presses against my carotid.

This is the worst idea I’ve ever had.

Killian’s wolf rears back, lifts his muzzle, and goes insane, howling at the sky, lunging and snapping his fangs. He doesn’t come any closer, though.

The other males creep out of hiding, careful not to get too close to his beast, surrounding him in a loose semi-circle. Last Pack backs up to form a cordon around the perimeter. Our males are all in human form, and they carry weapons. A tire iron. Knives. They reek of fear.

Adrenaline gallops through my veins. I’m betting on Killian, but what if he’s already been pushed too far?

I have to trust him.

How do I do that?

I shout down the bond with all my might—simmer down. Think. Don’t kill everyone. It’s like hollering into a paper towel tube, muffled and garbled. There’s too much static from his panic and rage.

So I try something else.

“Shift.” I make my voice sound as much like his as I can. “Shift now.”

With a righteous howl that sends birds as far as the foothills into the sky, Killian shifts back to a man. His shoulders heave, and he curls his lips back to show his fangs. He is every inch the fighter who’s never lost a bout.

“Let her go.” There is all the force of an alpha command is in his voice, and Lochlan’s hold loosens for a split second.

“We will,” Eamon says. “Once you’re dead.” He slaps a wrench against his palm.

Killian eyes it and snorts. “You weak males need weapons to defeat me? Aren’t twelve of you and the trash you brought in from Last Pack enough?”

He hasn’t spared the others a glance, but he knows their number. I have no doubt he’s decided the order he’s going to kill them.

Finn and Alfie’s eyes are eager, but some of the others flick uneasy glances at each other. This must be getting real for them. There’s a whine coming from the back of Fallon’s throat that he can’t quite stifle. He’s trying to catch my eye, like I can get him out of this mess. I’m gonna try, but if he gets a beatdown before it’s over, I’m not crying over it. All those video games we’ve hooked him up with, and he chose these idiots over us.

I bet reality is a lot different than sitting in a basement, blowing off steam about how bitches rule everything these days, and someone should do something about it.

“None of you have the balls to challenge me one-on-one?” Killian sneers.

“You’re the one who changed the rules.” Some of the others lower their gazes, but Eamon has no shame. “So have we. It’s never been a fair fight with you—wolf versus flip-shifter. And now we all see the consequences of letting an aberration lead the pack. Anarchy.”

Is he calling females with phones “anarchy?” But it’s fine to invite Last Pack onto our territory? To barter with them for our females?

“Shut up,” Killian snarls. “I’ll kill you in a minute.”

He focuses on me, and I can feel how hard it is for him to hold himself back. I don’t even need to grapple for the bond. It’s just there, as if it always has been, and it’s blasting at me. He’s pissed, and he’s terrified to his marrow.

Killian’s eyes are a searing blue, ringed with gold. There is raw pain there.

“Why did you do this, Una?” His face is drawn, tormented. “Is it because of what I said back at the cabin? If you don’t—If you want to get away from me, I’ll let you go. You don’t have to do this.”

He paces, but away from the Byrnes. As he moves, the other males shuffle backward. I don’t think they’re even aware they’re doing it. Most are still trying to look fierce, but the longer the minute stretches, reality seems to sink further in. More faces blanch. Gazes dart around the clearing, searching for a way out.

They must have made Killian small in their minds while they groused in their basements, but he’s larger, faster, and stronger than all of them—than any shifter before. They’d need a hundred more males to have a hope of taking him down.

This will be a bloodbath if I don’t figure out what to say. Last Pack is eyeing the woods. I bet everything they’re out of here as soon as the fur flies.

If I don’t stop this, no one else will. And it’s a real bitch that I’m the one who has to save their sorry, backwards asses.

While I’m stuck on words, Killian goes on. “I’m sorry. I said it before, but I—I need you to know, I mean it.”

“Weak,” Eamon spits.

Behind me, Lochlan tenses, readying for an attack.

Killian totally ignores him.

“But please don’t ever put yourself in danger, Una. I can’t bear it.” He pounds his bare chest with his fist, pacing still. “You can feel it, Una. I know you can. Don’t do this to me ever again, shy girl. I can’t handle it.”

He’s so worked up that fur sprouts along his happy trail. Crap. I need him to stop and think.

“I had to do something. You were going to kill everyone.”

“I still am.” A whiff of terror rises from the males behind him.

“I don’t think you should.”

Lochlan readjusts his grip on his knife. I freeze, willing Killian not to attack. I send every calming thought I have down the bond. He roars, but he stays where he is.

“You’re done, Killian,” Lochlan says. Under the braggadocio, there’s a tremor running down his arms. And his weak leg. He’s been favoring the right one since Killian kicked his ass. It’s the kind of thing a female like me notices. “Bare your neck, and we might exile you.”

It’s an obvious lie. He wants to humiliate his alpha before he kills him.

Killian doesn’t pay him any mind. “They took you,” he says to me.

“Because the Byrnes poisoned their minds.”

He sneers at the young males surrounding him. They’ve edged way back at this point. Last Pack is clustering around the one called Justus. “If these shits were worth a damn, they wouldn’t be so weak-minded that a bitter old fuck and a B-roster wannabe could convince them that females are the reason they can’t win a fight.”

Killian spares a glance over his shoulder at the gathered males. “And don’t think it’s escaped my attention that all of you have been losing your bouts. Ever bother to think that it’s because instead of hustling, you spend all your time bitchin’ about how messed up things are nowadays?”

He snorts in derision. “You want me to spare these pieces of shit?”

I can’t nod with the knife to my throat. “Yes.” I send my answer through the bond, too, so he knows it’s not because I’m afraid.

“Why?”

It’s so hard to say. The idea is new in my head. I struggle for a moment to find the words. “Because you’re the alpha. And I’m your mate. This is my pack. They’re my pack. Even the dumbasses. Not the Byrnes though. Fuck them.”

Lochlan begins to speak, and Killian roars him down. Leaves high in the tree tops flutter.

“You’re my mate?” His temple twitches, and he finally stops in his tracks. There’s a surge of pure, sparkling energy through the bond.

“You know I am.”

“You forgive me?”

“If you’re sorry, yes.”

“I said I was.”

“Because I have a knife at my throat.”

“You’re not nearly worried enough for a female in your position.” Killian is smirking now. Finn and Alfie exchange nervous glances.

“It’s because I know something Lochlan here doesn’t.”

“Yeah?” Killian’s smiling so wide, his eyes crinkle. His muscles are ready. We’re in tune now. The bond is flowing both ways. He knows my mind, and I know his.

Lochlan clears his throat, but I say my line before he can ruin it. “I know exactly how little pressure it takes to buckle a fucked-up knee.”

I slam my heel into his calf at the same time I shift, using the energy flowing through the bond to do it quicker than I have yet. Lochlan jabs with the knife, but my wolf is small. She’s not there anymore. She’s wriggling loose, tearing at him with her small but sharp fangs.

There’s a bone sticking out from Lochlan’s leg. I don’t know where I found the strength to land a blow that sharp. It must’ve come from the bond. Lochlan barely balances upright on the other one, and his gaze darts around the clearing in pure panic.

The instant Killian knew I was safe, he went on a rampage. He leapt—his body rippling as it became his wolf. He tore out Eamon’s throat in one bite, and he kept the bloody meat in his mouth as he dashed from male to male, ripping with claws in a frenetic blur, until each one lies groaning in the dirt, hands pressed to gaping flesh and gushing wounds.

The Last Pack wolves flee. Justus throws a Quarry male into Killian’s mouth so he has time to shift and bolt.

When it’s over, the dirt is red with blood, and the screams still ring in the foothills. Only Fallon is spared with nothing but a claw mark across his hairless cheek. He’s still plopped on his ass and crying.

Lochlan raises his knife. I sink my teeth into his good leg and shake. The knife thuds to the ground. Killian’s wolf lands on his chest and snaps his jaws around Lochlan’s head, crushing his skull with a horrible crunch. Things squirt.

The wolf grins at me. Blood and brain matter drip from his fangs as he wags his tail.

I sink to my butt. My wolf hangs her tongue out as far as it’ll go. She’d spit if she could. She doesn’t like the taste of viscera.

Killian’s wolf pads closer.

My wolf ducks her head. She hasn’t forgiven him for trying to dominate us in our nest. She’s pleased that he smote our enemies and spared Fallon and the lower ranking males. She’s protective of the pack in a way I’m not. The males’ lives are precious to her, even if she thinks they could use a little more roughing up to put them firmly back in their place.

Based on the amount of blood and moaning, they’re good.

Killian’s wolf noses mine. She nips at him. He lays down on his belly. Even like that, he’s three times our height. She’s not appeased.

My wolf lets out a long series of snarls, yips, and growls.

He bares his neck.

She growls more emphatically. I think she means something like “you’d like that, wouldn’t you.”

I test her, see if she’s ready to give up our skin. I have the urge to be in human form again.

She gives me an equivalent of the “wait a minute” finger, and then she launches into a fierce diatribe that makes Killian’s wolf slink backward and lower his muzzle. He looks like a very sorry killer wolf.

And then she gives a sniff, and she lets me take over again. Now I’m sitting in the dirt, naked, covered in blood. None of it is my own.

Killian immediately shifts to male form.

“Shirt,” he barks at the field of moaning males. Some have managed to get themselves upright. Not a single one has dared try to leave.

The nearest male peels off a blood-stained polo shirt and holds it out.

Killian and I both stare at it in disgust.

“I won’t wear it,” I say at the same time Killian throws it back at the male.

He leaps to his feet and stands in front of me, shielding me from view.

He coughs. Every pair of eyes are glued on him. A fog of dread hangs in the air. They know the moment of judgement is here.

“All of you. Go back to camp. And decide. If you stay here, you’re Z-roster. You’re trash crew. You’re the asshole I call when we gotta drain the sewage tank. Got that?”

He waits for every male to grunt assent before he continues.

“You aren’t allowed within fifty feet of any female. I don’t give a shit if you’re mated. You lost the privilege. Or get the fuck out. Maybe Last Pack will take you. If I find you in our hills, though, I’ll kill you.”

He glances back at me. “Okay by you?”

I’m caught by surprise, so I nod.

“We clear, Z-roster?”

There’s a general muttering. The males who’ve made it to their feet help the others.

And that’s when Tye, Ivo, and Gael—magnificent in their wolf forms—race into the clearing. Tye goes straight to Kennedy. His wolf is at her eye level. His wolf blinks at her. She glares back. He nudges her shoulder with his snout. Kennedy’s wolf growls. Tye ducks his head, ever so slightly.

And then Annie and Mari are running to me, and I’m hugging them, and Kennedy is joining us, and there’s a great hullabaloo. Mari and Annie cry. I wipe their cheeks, but all I do is mix dirt in with the tears.

“W-we th-thought we were gonna be traded to Last Pack,” Annie says.

“I thought you were gonna die.” Mari clings to my neck.

“They blew up all our stuff,” Kennedy says. Mari and Annie crowd close to her, covering her nakedness as best they can. Kennedy puts up a good front, but she’s not comfortable around other packmates in her bare human skin.

“W-where are we going to live?” Annie breaks down in fresh sobs.

“Whichever of those asshole’s cabins that you want. How about Alfie’s? His is catty-corner from mine and Una’s.” The girls fall silent and look up at Killian.

He attempts a smile.

Annie sniffles.

“Is that okay?” he asks.

One by one, the girls nod.

“Can Ivo and Tye take you back? Help you get it set up?” Killian is trying to speak gently, and it makes my insides warm.

“Ivo, yes. Tye, no,” Mari answers.

Killian raises an eyebrow, but Mari doesn’t elaborate. Kennedy stares at the ground. Mari is an excellent friend.

“Okay, then. I’ll bring Una over later. All right?”

They look to me. So does Killian.

I could say no, I want to go with them now. He’d listen. He’d walk us back to camp. He’d let me go with them to a new cabin, and he’d sit on the porch, but he wouldn’t say another word. I know this in my heart. It streams through our bond. I outrank him. I am his alpha.

This must be what it feels like to fly a fighter jet. Or a space shuttle. The pure power.

Killian opens his hand and holds it out. “Come with me?” he asks.

I don’t know where he wants to go, but yes.

I’ll go with him.

I take his hand.

He leads me away, and I follow.