Page 50 of Rabid
He shrugs. “You’re an untested, unfamiliar wolf that their alpha suddenly claimed. They’ll tolerate your presence out of respect for me and the fact that my wolf and I found you worthy, that I trust you’re the wolf for me. But you still have to prove yourself to the pack.”
“By biting you,” I reply.
“By biting me,” he repeats with a nod. “Once you do that, you’ll be able to assimilate yourself into the pack and prove that you can look out for them like I do.”
I open my mouth to tell him that Idowant to be here, and that I want to find my footing with Ruin Falls. But when he says it like that, he reminds me that I wouldn’t just be accepting a claim. I’d also be accepting responsibility over an entire pack.
Geez, no pressure.
We stare at each other, his brown eyes expectant, ready and waiting for me to give in to what he’s saying, but something on the cusp of my own worries holds me back. His gaze shutters at the uncertainty that’s written all over my face, and anger flashes through his irises.
“I see.”
Guilt and frustration rush through me, crawling up my neck and pressing into my cheeks until it’s coloring my skin in a cruel mimicry of embarrassment. Many of the pack turn to leave, their offered backs making it clear what they think about my hesitation to claim their alpha. Tyran steps back from me, and I narrow my eyes at his retreat.
Why does it have to be all or nothing? Why do I have to choose so fast?
“Don’t do that,” I call to Tyran as he moves to leave. “My hesitation isn’t rejection. I’m just…” With an aggravated sigh, I run my hand through my long hair, fingers getting caught in the wind-blown tangles. “I just need more time. You’re asking for too much too soon.”
The muscle in his jaw jumps as he clenches his teeth, and all previous heat and playfulness is gone. In its place is the hardened alpha I’ve heard countless stories about. He looks away from me, his cold eyes watching the rapids of the river, and I suddenly wonder if it’smyface he wants to hold beneath that water.
Would I trust him enough not to fight?
The question sours everything, only made more bitter when Tyran turns and stalks away from me without another word. My stomach churns like the water behind me, the falls looking eerily similar to the white rabid froth that I’ve tasted in my own mouth. I try to swallow down the discomfiture and resentment on my tongue as Tyran and the pack abandon me to be alone with the moonlit river.
I know they’re loyal to him, but they take his side without even trying to understand mine. Alpha or not, Tyran is being unreasonable. I’ve only just met him. He can’t expect me to decide that fast, to just…
You’re a fucking wolf. Stop acting like a human.
His previous words ring in my mind, making it clear exactly what his frustration is with my hesitation. But the thing is, I’m notjusta fucking wolf, none of us are, so why does that seem to be such a bad thing here?
I get that my wolf likes him, but what aboutme?
For the last three years, I’ve done everything possible to avoid being forced into a claim, and now here I am being pressured into another one. These alphas act like it’s all no big deal, but itis.
With an irritated huff, I take one last look at the river and the falls and then start to walk back. I pick my way through the shadows of the tall trees, stewing on what just happened. The reality is that we don’t even know each other. Our wolves like the other’s smell, and he fucks like a god. That’s ayayfor my vagina, but not exactly a solid foundation for a mate-for-life situation. I don’t care what he says about trusting my instincts, because I’m scared of what will happen if I choose wrong.
I take my time as I stomp through the underbrush, scraping a clawed hand against the trees as I go and trying to work through my thoughts. Annoyance and outrage settle in my limbs because these fuckingtreesknow more about this guy than I do. His scent covers them, as though he personally marks each one every morning.
I tip my head back and take in the canopy of pine needles and leaves. “Do you know if Tyran is going to treat me right?” I ask, as though the vegetation will lean over and whisper all their secrets. “Will he respect me, hear what I have to say, care about my opinions?” Unsurprisingly, the foliage doesn’t answer. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I grumble, just as peals of pup laughter and hearty conversations reach me from where the pack is gathered around their fires.
Stopping at the treeline, I stand there, painfully aware that I’m always on the outside looking in. The pack mingles, laughing and teasing, eating and bonding, and something like longing fills my chest. My irritable gaze finds Tyran easily, his large, hard body moving from one group to another. He checks on them, pausing to talk or tease or chuckle. His eyes are bright and comforting, his smile jovial and warm. Gone is the icy castigation that was just aimed at me. I survey him as he brushes hair from his face with a hand and chortles deeply at something another male says.
As I watch, he saunters over to a fire that has a few cuddling couples surrounding it. I study them and huff incredulously; I don’t even know if the alpha is a cuddler, since he’s always leaving. Yet I’m expected to bite the impatient bastard just because he bit me first.
Please, I snort.
A figure stands and offers him their seat, and I realize it’s a female when the light of the flickering flames catches her profile just right. Tyran sits, a wide smile on his face, and then my mouth drops open with utter shock when the female moves to sit in his lap...and he allows her to.
Red slams down over my vision, and rage curdles my blood as Tyran’s hands go to the female’s waist. She wraps an arm around the back of his shoulders, and the group collectively laughs about something. But from the outskirts of their camp, all I can see is anger, all I can taste is the salty call for blood, the demand for death skittering up my spine as I fight to keep my fur and fangs inside.
Hurt and disrespect rocket through me like bombs, and before I even know that I’ve taken a step in their direction, I’m suddenly standing outside of the group, staring at Tyran and Presley like I’m going to destroy them. My wolf is snarling inside my chest, demanding that I take what’s mine, but I shut that all down.
A feral, spine tingling growl crawls up my throat and spills from my lips like oil from a wrecked tanker, and all the laughter, teasing, and friendly exchanges drift away. The happy sounds die, my presence serving as an off switch.
Tyran’s eyes narrow on mine, and there’s something in them that I’m too pissed to read. But he does nothing. Just sits there with a bitch in his lap, after all the bullshit he just spewed at the reckoning, after everything he just made me believe.
“Trust and loyalty, huh?” I snarl, raking my gaze over the two of them like they’re the piss puddle a scared dog leaves behind when it smells our kind. “And here I was thinking those words actually meant something to you and your people. Good to know they’re just your nicknames for this bitch’s tits,” I snap, turning my glare to Presley, who bristles at my words.
