His Curvy Rejected Mate (The Five Packs Book 4) by Cate C. Wells

Author:Cate C. Wells [Wells, Cate C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-04-26T16:00:00+00:00

9

FLORA

Alec sleeps like the dead. As soon as he conks out, he stops spooning me and sprawls out on his back like a drunk starfish. I sleep lightly, waking at first light, and with him gone to the world, it’s easy to slip my leg out from under his, change into a fresh T-shirt and jeans, and stow the rest of my clothes in the backpack. I take a few minutes to reknot the straps to shorten them and then consider the quilt.

It reeks of sex, it’s got crusty patches that make my face burn to think about, and Alec is staking it out like Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man, except with no circle drawn around him and a much bigger, harder dick. It’s pointing skyward, kind of twitching. Watching it makes my face burn hotter. That was inside me. Stuck inside me. It made me feel ridiculously good.

I sling the backpack over my shoulders. I’ll have to leave the quilt. It sucks, but I can’t run the risk that Alec pulls some kind of alpha move and kidnaps me back to Salt Mountain. I’ve made up my mind.

So why don’t I walk away? The day’s not getting any younger as my dam used to say.

He just looks different like this. He’s always so self-possessed. I’d call it wariness if he didn’t come off as such a dick. Passed out like this, he definitely doesn’t look innocent or boyish or anything females say about the males who nod off in their folding chairs by the bonfire. Alec looks like a worn and weary soldier, old for his age, who’s set down his weapon to steal a few winks before he’s got to get up and march on.

What is so hard for him? The females fawning? The males kissing his ass in case he comes out the winner in the stakes for the next alpha?

Or something I can’t see, that I don’t know about?

I steel myself with a deep breath and force myself to look away. It doesn’t matter, and if it did, I’d know it after all these years, wouldn’t I? Shouldn’t I? There’s nothing here for me.

It’s time to go.

I orient myself, put the mountain at my back, and with a soft tread, I continue downhill. The sun rises, yellowish orange and round as an egg yolk, and the further I get from the feral’s territory, the more chirping and rustling I hear. I find the river again, and between the daytime critters stirring and the water rushing, I can almost ignore the bond, stretching like a piece of bubble gum.

Alec can do whatever he wants. It’s nothing to me. I’m going to the Old Den Pack. If Abertha’s map is even somewhat accurate, I should reach it later today.

My blisters still hurt, and my body aches—and stinks—but I feel better as the sun and activity limbers me up.

I’m not making a terrible mistake. This is just what being brave feels like.

I didn’t leave anything behind, except Harriet and Miss Nola, but once I get settled in, I’ll find a way to get them.

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