Page 27 of Rejected Alpha Mate

The bite comes out of nowhere, her teeth clamping down on my bottom lip with enough force to draw blood. I squeal, breaking the kiss in shock, when she pushes at my shoulders with as much force as she can muster, glaring at me with livid, dark eyes.

She swipes the back of her hand across her lips, her nose scrunched in disgust as she points a finger between my brows.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch me again!” she thunders before huffing and spinning on her heel, marching in the direction of her bedroom.

Too stunned to react, I stare after her until she disappears behind the door, exasperated, my blood pumping with adrenaline.

What the fuck was that? I chuckle disbelievingly as I press a palm to my raging hard-on in an attempt to murder the heat in my core. But it’s hardly achievable with the taste of her still on my tongue.

How is it possible that one moment she was hot for me, kissing me back, and the next, she warned me to never touch her again?

As irritation rises, I blow out a breath to let off some steam, deciding to head straight to bed instead of standing here and risking following her to her bedroom. Tonight has already been enough of a wild night, and if I’ve learned anything, it’s that Donna doesn’t want me anywhere near her.

Can I blame her?

No.

But it’s about time I respected the space she demanded tonight.

With her taste still on my tongue, my hand instinctively goes to the shoulder she magically healed, and a tingle of awareness seems to linger there, as if confirming my suspicions.

I’m not even sure if it’s true, but what I do know is that we found a foreign hex bag on our border, and that’s something that needs to be dealt with. My closest friends—those of us who’d been on the same black ops squad—will be here tomorrow to help me with something that needs to be a priority in my life.

I’m this pack’s alpha, and I’m supposed to protect my people from threats, like the threat of a hex bag that shouldn’t have been there.

Chapter 9 - Donna

All I can possibly stomach right now is a cup of herbal tea, even if I haven’t had anything to eat since last night.

Even that was barely a handful of bites, and ‘breakfast at midnight’ turned into a disaster when I kissed Nicholas.

I gulp hard as I lift the kettle and pour boiling water into the prepared cup, the sound of trickling water filling the unsettling silence that surrounds me. Shivering into myself, I lift the cup and hold it to my face, inhaling the lavender and chamomile infusion that promises calm and tranquility—both of which I desperately crave like an addict right now. The ceramic burns faintly against my palms, but not from the heat. It’s from something under my skin, something alive.

Something I don’t want to think of right now.

Last night was crazy. These past few days have been a rollercoaster of craziness that didn’t stop until it escalated into that kiss. Licking my lips absentmindedly, I can still taste Nicholas on them, even though I’d showered and scrubbed every inch of me to get his scent off me.

Nothing works. Not while I’m in his house. He’s everywhere, even if he’s nowhere to be seen yet. I haven’t seen him at all since I woke up, and I should be grateful for the space after my warning last night, but I’m irritated.

His entire existence irritates me.

As I take my first sip of tea, it seems to have adverse effects when goosebumps erupt across my forearms instead of bringing me the foretold calm. Just then, Nicholas comes walking into the kitchen, his shoulders square, his expression hard as he averts his gaze.

“Good morning,” he greets flatly, going to the coffee machine, his voice rough, as if something is clawing at his insides.

With his back turned to me, I’m once again given the opportunity on a golden platter to ogle, but after last night, I keep my eyes turned away. I can’t become weak for him again.

“A few of our friends are coming over,” Nicholas informs me formally, as if this is a meeting. “I didn’t call Dom and Cecelia. I don’t want them stressed out for nothing.”

Frowning, I’m about to ask if it’s about what happened last night, when Nicholas turns with his coffee mug in hand, piping hot caffeine steaming in his face.

“It’s just Delilah and Hunter, and Tyler and Arianna. We need to figure out what the deal is with the hex bag. When we do, we’ll tell the others. Your brother as well.”

I nod slowly, but I still feel uneasy, because after last night, the last thing I need is to be surrounded by the people who would suspect that something is wrong with me. Arianna and Delilah are the witches of the group, and that’s why they’ve been called to deal with the hex bag. But the timing couldn’t be worse, and I’m barely holding myself together, but now I have to pretend that I’m fine.

My appetite for my tea is gone, and perhaps it’s the worst thing that could happen when the sound of familiar chatter and laughter wisps through the air from the front porch.

“That must be them,” Nicholas says, his voice gravelly and brittle even after his coffee.