Rejection (The Mate Games 2)

“And a vamp’s.”

I snarled at him. He was just stating the facts, but I didn’t appreciate his honesty right now.

“And I’m pretty sure she and that Viking got matching tattoos. I saw him at the gym with fresh ink down his side. Looks a lot like the tat on her arm.”

My stomach clenched. “What tat? Sunday doesn’t have any ink.”

His brow lifted. “Yeah, dude, she sure fuckin’ does.” He trailed one finger along the inside of his bicep. “Runes or some shit. They look like smaller versions of his.”

What the fuck? No wonder she hasn’t stopped by; she’s been too busy running around with everyone else. Probably hadn’t thought of me once.

Had I lost her already?

“She marked him?” I said, more to myself than to Chad.

“Looks like it. Fuck, dude. I’d be pissed if my mate gave some other jerkoff her mark before she returned mine.”

I flinched. I hadn’t told anybody about that, not that it was easy to miss the lack of bite on my neck. “We’ve got time. I didn’t want to rush her.”

“Seven fucking years isn’t rushing.”

“Well, it’s not like Sunday really marked Nordson. It’s just a tat. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yeah, okay, buddy. Keep telling yourself that while she makes a fool of you.”

I gritted my teeth against the urge to take a swing at him, but he wasn’t wrong. Also, I didn’t have the strength to hurt him.

“Look, you’re gonna be better soon. One night under the moon in your wolf form, and you’ll be good as new. Then maybe she’ll come around. She clearly forgot the whole for better or for worse part of being a mate.”

“It’s not like we made vows to each other.”

“Doesn’t matter. She’s your mate. She should know better. Or at least fucking act like you matter. I don’t know how you stand it, dude. Your girl, rubbing all up on these other guys. Putting out for them. Seems like some bullshit to me.”

I grabbed him by the collar of his stupid yellow polo shirt and pulled him in, fury winning out over my self-control. “Don’t. Talk. About. Her. Not ever again.”

Chad took me by the wrist and removed my grip easily, but he backed down all the same. “Sorry, man. Just telling you what other people are saying. Didn’t mean to strike a nerve.”

“Yes, you did, you prick.”

“Truth hurts. Speaking of truth, you’re fucking ripe, dude. Think you can manage alone in the shower?”

“Why? You offering to wash my balls, bro?”

He shrugged. “I’ve done worse.”

I grabbed a pillow off the couch and smacked him in the head with it. “Fuck off. I can wash my own balls.”

“Glad to hear it. Just don’t jack off in there. You might pass out, and I draw the line at touching your jizz.”

I couldn’t respond because if I did, he’d hear how much pain I was in after hitting him with the pillow. Moonrise couldn’t come soon enough.

Carefully, I made my way to the bathroom, thankful for the fact that we didn’t have a tub, just a shower. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to step over anything higher than this.

I turned on the water and cranked up the heat until steam filled the room. The spray was hot enough to scald, but I didn’t turn it down. I needed the sting of pain if only to offset how fucking torn up my insides were. And I wasn’t talking about the cut over my chest. Hearing everything Chad had to say about Sunday had me reeling.

Despite all the assurances she made to me, she still hadn’t done the one thing a mate should do for her other half. I expected she’d come to it on her own; instinct should drive her to want to mark me as hers.

I hadn’t thought about it too much, just being with her felt fucking amazing after the way things had been just a few months ago. But hearing about her and Thorne and her marking herself with something distinctly Alek’s had all the old insecurities rearing their heads. Why them and not me?