The Alpha’s Rogue Mate

Chapter 1

Fallon

Trouble Has a Scent

There were three things I had learned during my years of

surviving alone.

Never sleep somewhere you can’t escape from.

Never trust a man who smiles too much.

And never, under any circumstances, steal food from a werewolf

pack whose Alpha has a reputation for being completely unhinged.

Unfortunately, I was about to break the third rule.

In my defence, I was starving.

You’re always starving, my wolf observed.

I crouched behind a cluster of bushes, peering through the

leaves at the enormous vegetable garden stretched out before me.

Because someone keeps insisting we can survive on berries and

the occasional rabbit.

Rabbits are nutritious.

Rabbits are fast.

That’s why we have legs.

That’s why we have teeth, you absolute walnut.

My wolf sighed dramatically.

I could practically feel her rolling her eyes inside my head.

She’d been doing that a lot lately.

Apparently, being the voice inside my skull didn’t prevent her

from developing an attitude problem.

If anything, it had encouraged one.

I rubbed my stomach and studied the garden.

Rows of vegetables stretched towards a wooden fence. Beyond them

stood several storage sheds, a small orchard and, farther in the distance, a

collection of buildings surrounded by the sort of fences that screamed, WE HAVE

SOMETHING VALUABLE AND WOULD VERY MUCH LIKE TO KEEP IT.

A pack.

A big one, judging by the size of the territory.

And judging by the smell drifting towards me, a pack with food.

Glorious, beautiful, potentially stolen food.

We could leave, my wolf suggested.

I blinked.

Excuse me?

We could leave. Walk away. Continue our noble tradition of

eating whatever unfortunate plant we happen to find growing beside a road.

Are you feeling unwell?

No. I’m simply making a reasonable suggestion.

You’re my wolf. Reasonable suggestions are not your speciality.

Neither is personal hygiene, but you don’t hear me complaining.

I looked down at my clothes.

My boots were worn, my trousers were patched at both knees, and

my shirt had a tear near the hem that I’d been meaning to repair for

approximately three weeks.

Fine. Four.

I had other priorities.

Like eating.

And staying alive.

And not strangling the furry menace who had apparently decided

that insulting me was her life’s purpose.

You know, she continued, if you spent half as much time looking

for work as you do looking for trouble, we might actually have a proper meal.

I’m a rogue. What work would you suggest?

Professional people watcher?

That’s not a job.

It is if you’re good at it.

And what exactly would my qualifications be?

You have an impressive ability to identify idiots from a

distance.

I snorted.

Unfortunately, I did it rather loudly.

A bird startled from the branches overhead.

I froze.

My wolf went silent.

For approximately two seconds.

Excellent. We’ve alerted the entire ecosystem to our presence.

Shall I introduce us to the squirrels next?

I pressed my lips together.

“Shut up,” I whispered.

I live in your head. Where exactly would you like me to go?

I hated her.

I loved her.

Mostly, I wanted a sandwich.

I looked back towards the garden.

No movement.

No shouts.

No warriors rushing through the trees with weapons drawn.

Perhaps I was in luck.

I slipped between the bushes and approached the fence.

The garden was unattended, although I could hear voices

somewhere beyond the nearest shed. I kept low, moving carefully over the damp

earth until I reached the first row of vegetables.

Potatoes.

Carrots.

Onions.

I could have cried.

Instead, I dropped to my knees and started digging.

Look at us, my wolf said proudly. Agricultural criminals.

We’re borrowing.

Without permission?

Temporarily borrowing.

Ah. Of course. I forgot that adding extra words makes theft

respectable.

I unearthed three potatoes, wiped the dirt from them and tucked

them into the battered satchel hanging from my shoulder.

Then I found the carrots.

Then the onions.

Then a small patch of strawberries that nearly made me abandon

every shred of dignity I possessed.

I was reaching for the last handful when a voice behind me said,

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

I stopped breathing.

My wolf made a small, thoughtful sound.

Well.

Don’t.

I haven’t said anything.

You’re thinking something.

I’m always thinking something. It’s one of my more attractive

qualities.

I slowly turned my head.

A young man stood several feet behind me, wearing dark trousers,

a grey shirt and an expression that suggested he had never once been pleased to

encounter another living creature.

His gaze dropped to the satchel beside me.

Then to the dirt on my hands.

Then to the strawberries I was still holding.

“Those belong to the pack,” he said.

I glanced at the strawberries.

Then at him.

“Really? I thought they were growing here for decorative

purposes.”

His eyebrows rose.

My wolf practically purred.

Oh, I like you.

We are not making friends with the people whose food we’re

stealing.

I’m not making friends. I’m assessing his intelligence.

And?

Early results are inconclusive.

The young man folded his arms.

“You’re on pack territory.”

“So I’ve gathered.”

“You’re a rogue.”

I looked down at myself.

Then back at him.

“That’s impressive. You worked that out all by yourself?”

His expression hardened.

My stomach sank.

Perhaps sarcasm wasn’t the most sensible survival strategy.

But when you’ve spent years alone, talking back can become a bad

habit.

Especially when the only person around to tell you to behave is

the voice in your head that thinks good manners are a disease.

“Put the food down,” he ordered.

I tightened my fingers around the strawberries.

“I’d rather not.”

“That wasn’t a request.”

“Neither was my hunger, but here we are.”

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then he reached for the satchel.

I snatched it away.

“Don’t touch me.”

Something shifted in his expression.

Not anger.

Not quite.

Surprise, perhaps.

As though he hadn’t expected the dirty, half-starved rogue to

have a voice of her own.

He took a step closer.

I took one back.

His nostrils flared.

And then his entire body went rigid.

Oh, no.

I knew that expression.

I’d seen it before, years ago, on the faces of wolves who had

caught the scent of something they desperately wanted.

Something they believed belonged to them.

The young man’s eyes widened.

Mine narrowed.

“What?”

He stared at me as though the earth had just opened beneath his

feet.

“What are you?”

I looked down at myself again.

“Currently? Hungry.”

Inside my head, my wolf went utterly still.

For the first time in days, she wasn’t joking.

I felt her lift her head.

Her instincts rose beneath my skin, sharp and sudden, and my

heart began to pound.

What’s wrong? I asked her.

She didn’t answer.

The young man took another breath.

His pupils expanded until his eyes were almost entirely black.

Then he whispered a word that made my blood turn cold.

“Mate.”

Oh, absolutely not.

No.

No, no, no.

I had spent years avoiding packs, Alphas, possessive men and

anyone who believed my life was theirs to organise.

I had run away from one man who intended to own me.

I would not spend the rest of my life belonging to another.

Well, my wolf finally murmured.

Her voice sounded suspiciously delighted.

This is awkward.

Awkward?

Very.

We are leaving.

Excellent plan.

I turned.

The young man caught my wrist.

I reacted before I could think.

I twisted free, shoved him hard in the chest and stumbled

backwards, my heart hammering.

“Don’t touch me!”

He stared at me.

For a moment, something almost vulnerable flickered across his

face.

Then it vanished.

His jaw tightened.

His shoulders squared.

And whatever surprise had overtaken him was replaced by

something cold enough to freeze the blood in my veins.

“You’re a rogue,” he said.

I lifted my chin.

“Congratulations. We’ve already established that your

observational skills are exceptional.”

His eyes flashed.

“You trespass on my territory, steal from my people, and then

dare to speak to me like that?”

I glanced at the strawberries still clutched in my fist.

“Would you prefer I curtsy?”

Inside my head, my wolf groaned.

Please stop talking.

You’re the one who usually encourages me.

Yes, well, I’m beginning to suspect that I may have made a

terrible mistake.

The young man took another step towards me.

“Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Someone having a remarkably bad day?”

His mouth tightened.

“I am the Alpha of this pack.”

For one ridiculous second, all I could think was that he looked

too young to be an Alpha.

Then I noticed the way he stood.

The absolute certainty in his posture.

The power radiating from him.

The way even the air seemed to grow heavier around his body.

He wasn’t merely a man with an impressive title.

He was a man accustomed to being obeyed.

And men like that had never brought me anything but trouble.

I swallowed.

“I’m leaving.”

“You aren’t going anywhere.”

My wolf growled inside my head.

Oh, I don’t like him.

You liked him thirty seconds ago.

I liked his potential. His execution is disappointing.

I almost laughed.

Almost.

Then the Alpha looked at me again, and I saw the truth settling

into his expression.

He had recognised the mate bond.

He knew what I was to him.

And he hated it.

I watched his face harden as though he were building a wall

between us, brick by miserable brick.

When he finally spoke, his words were quiet.

“You cannot be my mate.”

For a heartbeat, I couldn’t hear anything.

Not the wind moving through the trees.

Not the distant voices beyond the garden.

Not even my wolf.

I stared at him.

He looked at me as though I were something unpleasant he’d

discovered on the bottom of his boot.

“You’re a rogue,” he continued. “I will not have a rogue as my

Luna.”

There it was.

The familiar feeling.

The one I’d spent years trying to outrun.

That sickening certainty that no matter how hard I fought, no

matter how much I endured, no matter how carefully I built a life of my own,

someone would eventually look at me and decide I wasn’t worth keeping.

My fingers tightened around the strawberries until their juice

stained my palm.

I wanted to cry.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to ask him why being born into a pack should make

someone more deserving of love than a person who had survived without one.

Instead, I smiled.

It wasn’t a happy smile.

It was the sort of smile you learn when crying in front of the

wrong person feels more dangerous than bleeding.

“Well,” I said softly. “That saves us both a great deal of

trouble.”

His expression flickered.

Perhaps he hadn’t expected me to agree.

Perhaps he’d expected me to beg.

To plead.

To tell him that fate had made a mistake and that I deserved a

chance.

But I’d spent too many years refusing to let someone else decide

my worth.

I wasn’t about to start now.

I dropped the strawberries at his feet.

“Keep your title, your territory and your precious pack. I

wouldn’t want to inconvenience you by existing in the wrong place.”

Then I turned and walked away.

Every step hurt.

My wolf was silent.

And somehow, that was worse than all her sarcasm.

I made it to the fence before she finally spoke.

Keep walking.

I swallowed hard.

I am.

Good.

Her voice trembled with a fury that wasn’t mine alone.

Because if you turn around, I’ll make you bite him.

A wet laugh escaped me.

You can’t make me do anything.

Sweetheart, I live in your head. I’ve been making you do

questionable things for years.

I wiped my cheek angrily.

I hadn’t even realised I was crying.

Behind me, the Alpha said something I couldn’t make out.

I didn’t stop.

I climbed the fence, landed awkwardly on the other side and kept

walking until the trees swallowed the pack territory from view.

Only then did my legs finally give way.

I sank to the ground beneath an old gum tree, wrapped my arms

around my knees and pressed my forehead against them.

For several minutes, neither of us spoke.

Then my wolf sighed.

Well. On the bright side, we still have the potatoes.

I laughed.

It came out broken and ugly, tangled with the tears I’d been

fighting.

“You’re an idiot.”

And yet I’m the only one here who hasn’t rejected you.

That did it.

I buried my face in my hands.

Because she was right.

She had been there when I ran away.

She had been there when I slept beneath hedges and learned which

streams were safe to drink from.

She had been there when hunger made my hands shake and

loneliness became so unbearable that I’d started talking to birds simply to

hear another living thing respond.

She had never asked me to be someone else.

She had never demanded that I prove I deserved to exist.

And she had never once suggested that I was less worthy because

I had no pack.

Hey, she whispered.

The humour had disappeared from her voice.

Look at me.

I closed my eyes.

You know I can’t do that.

Figure of speech, sweetheart.

Despite everything, my mouth twitched.

There she is, my wolf murmured. That’s my girl.

I took a shaky breath.

What if something is wrong with us?

The question slipped out before I could stop it.

For once, she didn’t answer immediately.

Nothing is wrong with us.

Then why did he look at me like that?

Because he’s an arrogant, prejudiced i***t with the emotional

intelligence of a damp sock.

A tiny laugh escaped me.

That’s your expert opinion?

I’ve conducted extensive research.

How extensive?

I’ve met him.

I shook my head.

Then I looked towards the distant territory, where the man fate

had apparently chosen for me was probably already congratulating himself on

getting rid of his unwanted rogue mate.

“Well,” I whispered, “he can forget about us.”

My wolf hummed thoughtfully.

Absolutely.

A pause.

Although, between you and me, I suspect this is going to become

a spectacular disaster.

I looked up at the sky.

For the first time in years, I wished I could believe that fate

had something good waiting for me.

Instead, I pulled my battered satchel into my lap and counted my

potatoes.

Three.

At least I still had dinner.

And as far as I was concerned, that was more than the arrogant

bastard deserved.