Page 11 of Rejected Alpha Mate

He breaks the kiss, breathlessly rasping against my lips, “Meet me in the courtyard at nightfall….”

***

My heart lurches even before my eyes spring open, jolting me awake with the memory of that night haunting me even when I try escaping him through sleep.

Sighing in exasperation, I turn on the bedside lamp on the nightstand, covering the air in a soft, yellow glow that should feel cozy. But even as I hug my arms over my chest, nothing helps to stop the tears from falling from my eyes.

I wish I hadn't seen him tonight, because seeing him again only unearthed the memories I'd buried. That dream felt too real, and I don't want to relive the biggest mistake of my life.

I’ve never felt more alone than I do right now, than I have been feeling for this past year, when I couldn’t reveal to anyone what happened in Wells.

If I brought this up with Cecelia, I know what she’d tell me—the same thing I advised her when she discovered that she was my brother’s fated mate.

I don’t want to hear that fate is always right and that I should always follow my heart. I did that before, and that same heart got broken, ripped to shreds as if it meant nothing.

That's why being friends with Tobias is less complicated. With him, I don’t need to care about fated mate bonds and werewolf packs.

With him, it’s simple. He laughs when I make dumb jokes, listens when I ramble about case studies, and never makes me feel like I’m walking a tightrope between duty and desire. He’s just…safe.

But safety doesn’t stop the ache in my chest, and it never did for almost a year. I rode those thunderous waves of my heartbreak without anyone offering consolation—not even Tobias, even when he saw me cry.

He thought I was just overwhelmed with my studies, that’s all.

Being friends with him might be simple, but it’s too simple for these complicated emotions.

A fated mate bond is probably the most complicated relationship for a werewolf, while also being the simplest, most sacred bond between two wolves. Nicholas Bartalow emerging as my fated mate was beyond my wildest expectations, and his rejection was the most heart-wrenching thing I’ve ever had to deal with.

But that only attests to my strength. I’ve faced it alone all this time, and I can continue doing that.

I just need to cling tighter to my hatred for Nicholas….

Scrubbing at my cheeks with the heels of my palms, I try to breathe through the storm inside me, my eyes drifting closed when suddenly, a sound cuts through the stillness of the night, snapping my eyes open again.

A low, drawn-out howl rings out from somewhere in the distance, but close enough for me to notice. It trembles with something wild and broken, and every muscle in my body freezes.

It can’t be…

The sound ripples through the trees, brushing against my soul like an old scar reopening—and I’ve had a few of those tonight. My heartbeat stammers, then begins to race. I know that sound. I’ve heard it before.

The night I left Wells, the night I swore I’d never look back. The night I swore that I’d never look in his eyes again.

Nicholas.

But that’s impossible. Dominic made it clear to his friends that there would be no shifting tonight. None of them would risk exposing themselves to Tobias.

So why does that howl sound like him?

I kick the blankets aside and stumble to my feet, snatching my robe from the chair. My heart is pounding so hard, it hurts as I unlatch the chain on the wooden door and step into the moonlight. The resort is quiet, every lamp dimmed except for the faint glow of overhead lights spilling from the communal path.

“Toby?” I whisper, looking toward his tent, my gut filling with suspicion. Silence greets me, and I frown.

A flicker of unease crawls over my spine as I step closer, pushing the door in and discovering the emptiness of Tobias’s tent. The bed is untouched, his shoes are gone from where he’d left them when I bid him goodnight earlier.

Panic coils in my stomach.

Did Nicholas drive my friend away? Is that why he’s howling out there?

I wouldn’t put it past the arrogant son-of-a-bitch who broke my heart. Fuming and seeing red, I march toward the woods. I hate that I can still recognize his scent after all this time. I hate that I can pick it out in a crowd like I could earlier tonight at the party.