The Alpha’s Rogue Mate

Chapter 3

Fallon

By sunrise, I had reached three conclusions.

One: sleeping on the ground was an invention created by someone

who had never actually slept on the ground.

Two: raw potatoes were a deeply disappointing food source.

And three: if I ever saw that arrogant Alpha again, I was going

to say something so devastating that he would remember it every time he looked

in a mirror.

You said that yesterday.

“I’ve had time to improve my material.”

Wonderful. Perhaps your next insult will distract us from

starving.

I pulled my jacket tighter around myself and stepped over a

fallen branch.

The forest was quiet in the early morning, the air cool against

my cheeks. Mist clung to the ground, curling around the tree roots as sunlight

slowly filtered through the canopy.

It would have been beautiful if I weren’t exhausted, hungry, and

fairly certain something had crawled into my boot during the night.

I stopped and shook it out.

A beetle tumbled onto the ground.

I stared at it.

“See? Even the wildlife thinks I’m a comfortable home.”

At least someone wants to live with us.

I pointed at the empty air.

“That was unnecessary.”

It was accurate.

I continued walking.

My plan was simple. Find a stream, find something edible, avoid

the Alpha’s territory, and locate somewhere I could stay without being chased

off.

It was a terrible plan.

But terrible plans were something of a specialty.

I’d survived this long without a pack, without a family, and

without anyone making decisions for me. I could survive a few more days.

I just needed to find somewhere safe.

Somewhere nobody knew my name.

Somewhere nobody could look at me and see a problem that needed

to be removed.

The thought tightened something inside my chest.

I pushed it away.

I had work to do.

⸻

By midmorning, I had found berries, a handful of edible roots,

and a patch of mushrooms that my wolf insisted looked suspicious.

Those are poisonous.

“They look perfectly ordinary.”

So does the Alpha. Look how that turned out.

I left the mushrooms alone.

I was crouched beside the stream, washing the dirt from the

roots, when a sharp cry rang out through the trees.

I froze.

Another cry followed.

Then a man’s voice.

“Help! Someone, please!”

I was moving before I’d finished thinking.

My wolf surged forward inside me, her instincts sharpening mine

as we followed the sound through the undergrowth.

This is how people get murdered in stories.

“Then I suppose we’d better make sure he isn’t one of the

murderers.”

Excellent. We’ll die heroically. Very inconvenient.

I pushed through a screen of bushes and found a young man

sitting on the ground beside a fallen tree.

He looked barely older than me. His trousers were torn at the

knee, blood darkened one sleeve, and his face had gone pale.

He jerked backwards when he saw me.

“Stay away!”

I stopped.

“Charming. I rush over to help, and you greet me like I’m

carrying a knife.”

His gaze dropped to my clothes.

Then to my face.

Then back to my clothes.

“Rogue.”

There it was.

One word, and suddenly I wasn’t a person anymore.

I was a warning.

A threat.

Something to be feared.

I straightened slowly.

“Would you like me to leave you here, then?”

His expression changed.

“No. Wait.”

I sighed.

“That’s what I thought.”

I approached carefully, keeping my hands visible. A deep cut ran

along his forearm, and his ankle was twisted at an awkward angle.

“What happened?”

“I was gathering wood. I slipped down the bank.”

I examined the injury.

“Can you stand?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Excellent. I was hoping for a complicated morning.”

Tell him we charge extra for sarcasm.

I ignored her and crouched beside him.

“I’m going to check your ankle. If you scream, I’ll assume

you’re dying and become very annoyed.”

He blinked at me.

Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.

It was a weak, startled sound, but it loosened something in the

air between us.

“My name is—”

He stopped himself.

I raised an eyebrow.

“Afraid I’ll steal that, too?”

His cheeks coloured.

“Sorry.”

I wasn’t used to apologies.

Not real ones, anyway.

I looked back at his ankle.

“Don’t be sorry. Just don’t move.”

I examined the swelling and helped him shift into a more

comfortable position. The injury looked painful, but not catastrophic.

“You’ll need someone to look at that properly,” I told him. “And

your arm needs cleaning.”

“Can you help me get back to the pack?”

The question landed between us.

I glanced towards the distant trees.

The pack.

His pack.

The Alpha’s pack.

I should have said no.

I should have stood up, wished him luck, and walked away before

I got dragged into something that wasn’t my problem.

Instead, I looked at his pale face and the way he was trying not

to show how much he hurt.

I knew what it felt like to need help and have nobody willing to

offer it.

“Fine,” I said. “But if you tell anyone I was nice to you, I’ll

deny everything.”

He smiled.

“Deal.”

Wonderful, my wolf muttered. We’ve adopted a stranger.

“We have not.”

You helped him. That’s how it starts.

I found a sturdy branch and fashioned a rough walking support.

Then I helped him stand, letting him lean against me while he tested his

weight.

He hissed through his teeth.

“Sorry,” I said.

“It’s all right.”

“No, it isn’t. But we’re both going to pretend it is because

otherwise we’ll be here until winter.”

He laughed again.

And for the first time in days, I forgot about the Alpha.

Almost.

⸻

We reached the edge of the pack territory shortly before noon.

The moment the young man saw the familiar boundary markers,

relief washed across his face.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

I adjusted his arm around my shoulders.

“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t delivered you to your family.

They might be unbearable.”

“You have no idea.”

I snorted.

“I have some experience with unbearable people.”

A voice called from ahead.

“There you are!”

Several wolves came running through the trees.

The moment they saw the injured man, two of them rushed forward

to support him.

“Are you hurt?”

“What happened?”

“Where have you been?”

Their questions overlapped, their concern obvious.

The young man smiled weakly.

“I’m fine. I fell.”

Then one of the wolves looked at me.

His expression hardened.

“What is a rogue doing here?”

The warmth vanished from the little gathering.

I felt it happen.

The sudden suspicion.

The way everyone shifted, subtly placing themselves between me

and the injured man.

I stepped back.

“Your friend fell. I helped him get here. He’s alive. You’re

welcome.”

The young man immediately tried to straighten.

“She saved me. She could have left me out there, but she

didn’t.”

The other wolves exchanged glances.

One looked uncomfortable.

Another looked unconvinced.

And the third looked as though he was considering whether

helping someone was a crime when the person doing it happened to be a rogue.

I knew that look.

I’d seen it too many times.

“I’m leaving,” I said.

“Wait.”

The young man reached for me, but I was already moving away.

I didn’t want their gratitude.

I didn’t want their suspicion.

I didn’t want to stand in another group of wolves and wait to

discover whether they thought I deserved to be there.

I’d had enough of that for one lifetime.

I walked towards the trees.

Then a familiar voice cut through the air.

“Stop.”

I closed my eyes.

Of course.

Of course the universe wasn’t finished laughing at me.

I turned slowly.

The Alpha stood several paces away, flanked by two warriors. His

dark hair was slightly dishevelled, and there was a tension in his jaw that

suggested his morning hadn’t gone particularly well.

Good.

I hoped he’d stepped on something unpleasant.

His gaze moved from me to the injured man.

“What happened?”

“I fell,” the young man answered. “She helped me.”

The Alpha looked at me.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

The mate bond stirred beneath my ribs, an unwelcome reminder

that my body had apparently failed to receive the message that I wanted nothing

to do with this man.

His eyes lingered on my face.

Then he said, “You helped one of my wolves.”

I stared at him.

“Very observant.”

One of his warriors coughed.

The Alpha’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“You could have left him.”

“Yes. I could have.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No. I didn’t.”

He seemed to be waiting for something.

Gratitude, perhaps.

An explanation.

Some indication that his opinion mattered to me.

I gave him none of those things.

“Is there a point to this conversation?” I asked. “Because I

have places to be, food to find, and absolutely no interest in discussing my

charitable contributions.”

His wolf stirred beneath his skin.

She’s beautiful when she’s angry.

The Alpha’s expression tightened.

That was not helpful.

I wasn’t speaking to you. I was appreciating her.

Try appreciating her silently.

His wolf gave a mental huff.

You rejected our mate yesterday. You don’t get to issue

appreciation guidelines.

The Alpha looked as though he had bitten into something sour.

I almost smiled.

Almost.

Then his gaze returned to mine.

“I owe you an apology.”

The words surprised me enough that I forgot to be sarcastic for

a whole second.

A personal record.

He took a step closer.

“I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did.”

I swallowed.

The apology was quiet. There was no audience he needed to

impress, no crowd to convince.

But I remembered his words anyway.

I will not have a rogue as my Luna.

I remembered the certainty in his voice.

The way he had looked at me as though my life, my struggles, and

my very existence had already disqualified me.

“Why?” I asked.

His brows drew together.

“Why what?”

“Why shouldn’t you have spoken to me that way?”

He hesitated.

And there it was.

The difference between apologising because you regretted the

consequences and apologising because you finally understood what you’d done.

He opened his mouth.

Closed it again.

I gave a small, humourless laugh.

“That’s what I thought.”

“I was wrong to judge you before I knew you.”

“Correct.”

“I was wrong to assume that being a rogue made you—”

“Careful.”

He stopped.

I stepped closer, holding his gaze.

“Don’t apologise for judging me before you knew me if you’re

about to explain that you only judged me because I’m a rogue. That’s not an

apology. That’s just a prettier version of the same insult.”

Silence settled around us.

The Alpha stared at me.

For the first time since I’d met him, he looked as though he

didn’t know what to say.

Good.

Let him experience it.

I was exhausted from being the only person in the conversation

who had to live with the consequences of his decisions.

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me,” I continued. “I don’t

need you to like me. And I certainly don’t need you to pretend you respect me

because the Moon Goddess tied us together.”

His face tightened at the mention of the bond.

“But I will not stand here and let you make me feel as though my

circumstances are a character flaw.”

Something shifted in his expression.

Not pity.

Not disgust.

Something quieter.

Something that looked painfully close to shame.

“You’re right,” he said.

I blinked.

My wolf blinked.

I was fairly certain the trees blinked.

Did he just agree with you?

“Don’t ruin it,” I muttered.

The Alpha frowned.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

I stepped away from him.

“I helped your wolf because he needed help. That’s all. You

don’t owe me anything, and I don’t owe you anything.”

The words hurt more than I expected.

Because some foolish part of me wanted him to argue.

To tell me the bond mattered.

To tell me that he had made a mistake and would do anything to

put it right.

But I had no intention of handing him the power to hurt me

twice.

I turned towards the forest.

“Wait,” he said.

I stopped, though I wasn’t sure why.

His voice was different when he spoke again.

“If you need food, we can provide some.”

My stomach chose that precise moment to growl.

Loudly.

Traitorous little organ.

One of the warriors looked away.

The young man I’d helped pressed his lips together.

The Alpha’s mouth twitched.

I pointed at him.

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking something.”

“Am I not allowed to think?”

“Not if it’s about me.”

His wolf laughed inside his head.

Oh, I definitely like her.

I could practically feel the Alpha’s frustration.

I folded my arms.

“I’m not taking charity from you.”

“It’s not charity. You helped someone from my pack. Offering you

food is a reasonable way to thank you.”

“Then thank me by making sure your injured wolf gets proper

treatment.”

“He will.”

“And stop sending warriors to track me down.”

His expression changed.

“You were being followed?”

I stared at him.

“You sent people after me yesterday.”

“To ask you to return.”

“And today?”

He glanced at the scarred warrior standing behind him.

The man suddenly found the ground fascinating.

The Alpha’s jaw tightened.

“I told them not to force you to return.”

“Congratulations. You have discovered the bare minimum of

acceptable behaviour.”

The young man made a choking noise.

The Alpha closed his eyes for one brief moment.

When he opened them, he looked directly at me.

“I won’t send anyone after you again without your permission.”

I searched his face.

I wanted to believe him.

That was the dangerous part.

Not the bond.

Not his beautiful eyes.

Not even the way my wolf had apparently decided he was worth

keeping.

It was the tiny, treacherous hope that perhaps someone could

make a mistake and still learn to do better.

But hope was not trust.

And I had no intention of confusing the two.

“Good,” I said.

Then I walked away.

This time, he didn’t tell me to stop.

He didn’t follow.

He didn’t order anyone else to bring me back.

He simply stood there and watched me disappear between the

trees.

I kept walking until the pack was out of sight.

Only then did I allow myself to breathe.

Well, my wolf said.

“What?”

That was interesting.

“Was it?”

He apologised. You insulted him. He offered you food. You

insulted him again.

“I was being consistent.”

You were being emotionally unavailable.

I stopped dead.

“Excuse me?”

Nothing.

I narrowed my eyes.

I said nothing.

“You said emotionally unavailable.”

I have no idea what you’re talking about.

“You’re a wolf. You don’t even know what unavailable means.”

And yet I recognise it when I see it.

I groaned and continued walking.

My wolf was insufferable.

Unfortunately, she was also right about one thing.

The Alpha had apologised.

It hadn’t fixed anything.

It hadn’t erased the hurt or changed the past.

But for the first time since he had rejected me, he had looked

at me without seeing only a rogue.

I wasn’t sure what that meant.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

All I knew was that I still had a forest to cross, a stomach to

feed, and a life to build.

And I would build it on my own terms.

If the Alpha wanted to become part of that life, he would have

to learn something very important.

I was not his to claim simply because fate had chosen me.

He would have to become someone I could choose, too.