Rejected Mate (Feral Shifters 1)

Sometimes, you just have to do the right thing, even when it hurts.

Silence stretches through the clearing. But I realize very quickly that it’s a false silence. The guys are still talking. Exchanging glances, shuffling around, all the mannerisms of a conversation being had.

But I can’t hear them.

Goddammit. All those times I thought they were speaking in each other’s heads—maybe I was fucking right.

I’m calculating how fast I can shift, reach my knife in my bag, and put it through three different eye sockets. Fast enough to keep them from shifting to their nightmarish shadow wolf forms?

Then Kian speaks again. Let’s keep moving. Finding the Devil’s Teeth is only step one. We still have to find the tree.

They continue walking.

I ease up on the tension in my body and follow.

But as my paws pad over the rocky ground, I glance over my shoulder in the direction of the supposed “weak point.” I still can’t sense anything out of the ordinary, but I have no doubt that the feral shifters were telling the truth about what they felt.

And yet, the three of them turned their back on finding that place, even though it’s their main purpose in life.

They chose to keep searching for the Tree of Life instead.

Maybe it’s just self-preservation, since neither Frost nor I probably have long before the shadow poison kills us. Maybe they have every intention of returning to that spot later and trying to breach the divide between the shadow realm and earth.

But in this moment, they chose life over death.

They chose Frost.

They chose me.

And that shift in priorities makes me more hopeful than ever that they can be swayed from their dark mission.

The Devil’s Teeth soar into the purple twilight over a small valley dominated by a deep blue lake. The last of the sun’s glow casts the Teeth’s reflection on the water, giving the appearance of a mouth opening wide to swallow the world.

Kian offers to go hunt for dinner alone, but Frost refuses and goes with him. I’m not usually the type of wolf to say no to a good hunt, but I’ve been run through the ringer so many times in the past couple days that all I want to do is rest. I leave Malix next to our belongings and head around the rocky beach for a more secluded place to wash the past couple days off my body.

I shift to human form on the rocky beach and step into the water. It’s cold, but not as frigid as I expected a mountain lake to be. After days of trekking through the woods living in wolf form, it feels pretty good. Mud shifts between my toes as I walk deeper, and the water takes my breath away as it crests over my hips. Then I take a deep breath and plunge beneath the surface.

I swim forward a few strokes beneath the cold water, content in the darkness and silence. My life before Oscura feels like it was someone else’s life. I miss my solitude and the calm routine of moving from town to town, picking up odd jobs, enjoying my own company.

But… I haven’t hated every moment of my life since Kian walked into that Oscura bar either, although I’d never admit that to any of them out loud.

I breach the surface, brushing my now-wet hair out of my face. My feet reach the ground here, but I’m deep enough for the water to cradle every inch of my body from the neck down. I do a backstroke and breathe deep, relishing the soft scent of the water, the earthy moss, the evergreen pines on the air, the waning sunshine…

My skin prickles with a sudden awareness, and the hair on the back of my neck rises.

Halting abruptly, I put my feet back on the mushy ground and whirl around.

Malix is standing on the shore, still in his wolf form.

He looks like a shadow, nothing but reflective violet eyes beneath the tree canopy as he watches me. Even though I’m completely covered by the water, his gaze still makes me burn. I maintain eye contact, a challenge in my expression. I’m not going to let him ruin my bath or force me to leave.

Magic ripples over him.

His salt-and-pepper fur recedes into his smooth, dark skin, and his chiseled physique seems to burst from his giant wolf in slow motion. Still holding my gaze, he stoops down and picks something up off the ground, then he wades into the shallows. Taking his time. Muscles rippling. Every inch of his gorgeous fucking body on display.

The last time I saw this much of his body, I was watching him stroke his cock. The reminder sends a thrill of heat straight through my core.

As he descends, all the shadow tattoos on his skin flow upward on his body, as if fleeing the chilly water. It’s hilarious—especially combined with his serious face and battle-ready body—and I almost laugh. I manage to bite it back.