The Alpha’s Rogue Mate

Chapter 2

Fallon

The first rule of surviving as a rogue was simple.

Never look back.

The second rule was even simpler.

Never trust a man who looked like he had been carved by the gods

and educated by a brick.

Unfortunately, my rejected mate managed to qualify for both

categories.

“Keep walking,” my wolf instructed.

“I am walking.”

“Faster.”

“I have three potatoes in my pocket. I’m not exactly built for

sprinting.”

“Then stop walking like a grieving penguin.”

I nearly tripped over a tree root.

I hate you.

“No, you don’t.”

I hated that she was right.

The forest swallowed me in a mess of tangled branches and damp

leaves as I put as much distance as possible between myself and the Alpha’s

territory.

I refused to cry.

Absolutely refused.

Not because he wasn’t worth the tears. That would have been the

sensible explanation.

I refused because I had cried over enough people who had never

deserved a single tear from me.

My parents.

The home I’d lost.

The life I’d once imagined.

I had spent years convincing myself that being alone was better

than being unwanted. It was a hard lesson, but I had learned it well.

And now some arrogant Alpha with beautiful eyes and the

personality of a mouldy turnip had managed to find the one tiny c***k in my

armour.

Wonderful.

Just bloody wonderful.

We could go back and bite him.

My wolf sounded almost hopeful.

“No.”

Just once.

“No.”

One little bite. Somewhere inconvenient.

“Are you finished?”

I haven’t even started. I have a list.

I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing.

That was the trouble with my wolf. She could drag me out of the

darkest hole with one ridiculous comment, then remind me exactly why I had

fallen into it in the first place.

The mate bond still tugged inside my chest.

I could feel it even now, a strange, invisible thread pulling me

towards the man I’d left behind.

I hated it.

I hated that my body recognised him when my heart wanted nothing

to do with him.

And I hated, most of all, that a tiny, foolish part of me had

wanted him to look at me and see something worth keeping.

Not a rogue.

Not a problem.

Just me.

You know what I think? my wolf asked.

“I’m almost afraid to.”

I think the Moon Goddess has a wicked sense of humour.

I snorted.

“Finally, something we agree on.”

We continued through the forest until the distant sounds of the

pack settlement faded behind us. My stomach growled loudly enough to frighten a

bird from a nearby branch.

I stopped.

Slowly, I pulled one potato from my pocket.

It was small, dirty, and slightly bruised.

I stared at it.

The potato stared back.

At least, it would have if potatoes had eyes.

“Dinner,” I announced.

If we survive the nutritional disappointment.

“Would you prefer to go back and ask His Royal Arrogance for a

table setting?”

I’d prefer to steal his breakfast. He looks like the sort of man

who eats well.

I couldn’t help it.

I laughed.

It was brief and a little broken, but it was real.

And for the first time since the Alpha had looked me in the eyes

and rejected me, the tightness in my chest eased.

Only a little.

But a little was something.

I found a sheltered hollow beneath a fallen tree and settled

there to eat. The potatoes were raw, and I had no fire, but hunger had never

been particularly fussy about presentation.

I had just taken my second bite when my wolf went silent.

That was never a good sign.

“What?”

Someone’s coming.

I froze.

The forest around me seemed to hold its breath.

I listened.

Footsteps.

More than one person.

And they weren’t moving like ordinary travellers. Their steps

were measured, their breathing controlled.

Pack warriors.

“Wonderful,” I whispered. “Perhaps they’ve come to arrest me for

the theft of agricultural produce.”

If they take our potatoes, I’m committing actual crimes.

I shoved the remaining food into my pocket and stood.

Three figures emerged between the trees.

The first was a broad-shouldered man with dark hair and a scar

cutting through one eyebrow. Two younger warriors followed him, both watching

me with the wary expressions of men who had been told something unpleasant and

expected to find it waiting for them.

The scarred man stopped several paces away.

“Are you the rogue who entered our territory?”

I glanced down at my clothes.

Then at the potatoes bulging awkwardly from my pocket.

“Depends. Is there a reward?”

One of the younger warriors coughed.

It sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

The scarred man’s expression didn’t change.

“The Alpha wants to speak with you.”

“Tell him I’m busy.”

“Busy doing what?”

“Being somewhere he isn’t.”

Oh, I like this one, my wolf murmured. He’s going to hate us.

“I’m beginning to see a pattern,” I muttered.

The man’s gaze sharpened. “You rejected an order from your

Alpha?”

“Your Alpha rejected me first. I assumed we were establishing a

tradition.”

This time, both younger warriors looked away.

One of them was definitely smiling.

The scarred man sighed through his nose.

“Please don’t make this difficult.”

“I’m not making anything difficult. I’m sitting in a forest

eating potatoes. You people keep finding me.”

Perhaps we should move somewhere less popular.

The scarred man rubbed his forehead as though he could already

feel a headache forming.

“The Alpha wishes to apologise.”

I went still.

For one humiliating second, hope rose inside me.

It was immediate, bright, and painfully stupid.

Then I remembered his expression.

The disgust.

The certainty with which he had decided that my bloodline, my

circumstances, and my lack of a pack made me unworthy of him.

My hope died before it could take a proper breath.

“No, thank you.”

The man blinked. “You haven’t even heard what he has to say.”

“I heard enough the first time.”

“The Alpha may have spoken in anger.”

“Then he should learn to control his mouth.”

And perhaps have it professionally removed.

I pressed my lips together.

The scarred man looked towards the sky as if asking the Moon

Goddess for patience.

I almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

“He is our Alpha,” he said carefully. “You should at least give

him the opportunity to explain himself.”

“And I’m the woman he rejected. Surely I get a say in whether I

want to listen?”

Silence.

That seemed to be a difficult concept for them.

Interesting.

The scarred man studied me for a long moment, and something in

his expression shifted. The suspicion remained, but beneath it was a flicker of

understanding.

“You really aren’t going back, are you?”

“No.”

“Even if he asks you to?”

I looked him straight in the eyes.

“Especially if he asks me to.”

My wolf went quiet.

For once, she had nothing sarcastic to add.

The scarred man nodded slowly.

“I see.”

I wasn’t sure he did.

But at least he had stopped treating me like a stray dog that

had wandered into the wrong yard.

He stepped aside.

“You’re free to leave. I won’t force you to come with us.”

That surprised me.

“Thank you.”

“However,” he added, “you should know that the Alpha has been in

a rather foul mood since you left.”

I stared at him.

Then I laughed.

I couldn’t help it.

A proper laugh this time, loud enough to startle the birds.

“Oh, no. Whatever will we do?”

The scarred man looked thoroughly unimpressed.

“My sympathies,” I told him solemnly. “It must be terribly

difficult living with a man whose own decisions make him miserable.”

Perhaps we could send him a potato. It might improve his

temperament.

“Perhaps we could send him three,” I whispered.

The younger warrior nearest the scarred man made a strangled

noise.

The scarred man pointed towards the deeper forest.

“Go.”

“Gladly.”

I walked past them with my chin held high, although my heart was

beating hard enough to rattle my ribs.

I had expected threats.

I had expected insults.

I had even expected the Alpha to drag me back and demand that I

explain myself, because men like him seemed to believe the world was something

they could command into obedience.

I hadn’t expected an apology.

And that frightened me more than the threats would have.

Because an apology was a door.

And I had spent years learning not to open doors for people who

had already shown me what they were capable of doing once they stepped inside.

⸻

Back at the packhouse, the Alpha stood beside a table covered in

reports he hadn’t read.

He had been staring at the same page for twenty minutes.

His Beta had noticed.

Of course he had.

The man noticed everything, which was one of the reasons the

Alpha occasionally considered throwing him into the nearest river.

“You’re going to burn a hole through that paper,” the Beta

remarked.

The Alpha didn’t look up.

“Do you have something useful to say?”

“Several things. Most of them involve the word idiot.”

“Careful.”

“Fine. I’ll use a more respectful term. You are an exceptionally

gifted fool.”

The Alpha slowly raised his eyes.

His Beta smiled.

It was not a reassuring smile.

“Feel better now?” the Alpha asked.

“Immensely.”

The Alpha returned his attention to the report.

He lasted approximately three seconds.

“Did you find her?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“She declined your invitation.”

His jaw tightened. “She declined?”

“Quite emphatically.”

The Alpha stared at him.

The Beta folded his arms.

“She also suggested that you learn to control your mouth.”

A muscle jumped in the Alpha’s cheek.

His wolf stirred inside him.

I like her.

The Alpha’s expression darkened.

Of course you do.

She’s funny.

“She insulted me.”

You deserved it.

The Alpha shut his eyes.

He was beginning to understand that his wolf had chosen a side.

Unfortunately, that side appeared to be the woman he’d rejected.

She smelled hurt, his wolf said, the humour fading from his

voice. You felt it when you broke the bond. Don’t pretend you didn’t.

The Alpha’s fingers tightened around the edge of the report.

He had felt it.

The moment the word rogue left his mouth and the rejection

settled between them, something inside him had twisted.

He had expected anger from her.

Perhaps tears.

Perhaps a desperate plea for him to reconsider.

Instead, she had looked at him as if he had confirmed something

she already believed about the world.

Then she had walked away.

No begging.

No bargaining.

Not even a backward glance.

And that should have made the decision easier.

It hadn’t.

You don’t get to hurt her and then be offended when she leaves,

his wolf said.

“I know.”

Do you?

The Alpha said nothing.

His Beta watched him with an expression that was far too

perceptive.

“You rejected your mate because she’s a rogue,” he said quietly.

“Did you ever stop to consider why she might be one?”

The Alpha’s head lifted.

“She entered our territory to steal food.”

“Three potatoes, apparently.”

“That is still theft.”

“Yes. A crime of such staggering proportions that I expect the

bards will sing of it for generations.”

“Enough.”

The Beta’s smile disappeared.

“Is it? Because we’ve had reports of missing crops for weeks.

The attacks are getting worse, and the displaced rogues in the surrounding

forests are running out of supplies. You know that. Everyone knows that.”

The Alpha looked towards the window.

Beyond the glass, the pack settlement carried on with its

ordinary afternoon. Wolves crossed between buildings. Children raced along the

path. Somewhere, someone was laughing.

His pack was safe.

Fed.

Protected.

He had built his leadership around the belief that a strong

Alpha kept his people secure.

But strength could become an excuse.

An excuse to distrust.

An excuse to judge.

An excuse to turn away from anyone who didn’t fit neatly inside

the walls he had built.

His wolf growled softly.

And now you’ve used that excuse on your mate.

The Alpha’s stomach tightened.

He could still remember the look in her eyes.

Not weakness.

Not submission.

Pain, carefully hidden behind a sharp tongue and a stubborn

chin.

He had seen that look before, in wolves who had been abandoned

by those who should have protected them.

He had simply never expected to see it on the face of the woman

the Moon Goddess had chosen for him.

“Bring me everything we know about the rogue attacks,” he

ordered.

His Beta raised an eyebrow.

“Planning to investigate?”

“Planning to understand what is happening on my borders.”

“Of course.”

The Beta turned towards the door.

“And don’t,” the Alpha added, “bring her back here against her

will.”

His Beta paused.

Then, slowly, he smiled.

“Well. Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.”

“Get out.”

“Gladly, Your Highness.”

The door closed behind him.

The Alpha stood alone, staring at the forest beyond his window.

Somewhere out there was a woman who carried his mark in her soul

and wanted nothing to do with him.

He had rejected her because he thought a rogue could never

belong beside an Alpha.

Now, for the first time, he wondered whether he had confused

belonging with obedience.

His wolf settled, but the bond between them remained painfully

quiet.

Find out who she is, it said.

The Alpha swallowed.

“And if she never forgives me?”

His wolf answered without hesitation.

Then you will have to live with what you did.

⸻

I found a stream before sunset and washed the dirt from my

hands.

The water was cold enough to make my fingers ache, but I

welcomed the sting. It gave me something else to concentrate on.

I was still angry.

Still hurt.

Still inexplicably aware of a certain Alpha somewhere behind me.

But I was also free.

Nobody was telling me whom to love.

Nobody was deciding where I belonged.

Nobody was going to make me kneel for the privilege of being

wanted.

I sat on a flat stone and watched the current move around my

fingers.

“Do you think he meant it?” I asked my wolf quietly.

For once, she didn’t answer immediately.

Then she spoke, her voice softer than usual.

“I think he meant it when he said it. I think he believed what

he was saying. And I think neither of those things means he was right.”

My throat tightened.

“That’s annoyingly sensible.”

Don’t get used to it.

I smiled faintly.

“What if the bond never goes away?”

Then we’ll learn to live with it.

“What if it hurts?”

Then we’ll hurt.

I looked down at the water.

“And what if I wanted him to choose me?”

My wolf nudged me gently from within.

Wanting to be chosen doesn’t make you weak. But you don’t have

to accept someone who makes you feel small just because a magical bond says

you’re supposed to belong together.

I closed my eyes.

For a moment, I let myself feel everything.

The loneliness.

The rejection.

The shame of wanting something I had promised myself I would

never need.

Then I breathed in.

And out.

And when I opened my eyes again, the forest was still there.

So was the stream.

So was I.

I wasn’t healed.

I wasn’t fine.

But I was still standing.

And tomorrow, I would find food that didn’t require committing

agricultural crimes.

Probably.

My wolf gave a satisfied little huff.

Excellent. Personal growth.

I slipped the last potato from my pocket and held it up.

“Dinner?”

We’re going to die.

“Dramatic.”

I’m a wolf. It’s practically a professional requirement.

I laughed, and this time the sound didn’t break halfway through.

Then I ate my potato beneath the darkening sky, alone but not

defeated.

Far behind me, the Alpha was beginning to question everything he

believed about rogues.

He could question it all he liked.

I wasn’t going back.

Not for an apology.

Not for a bond.

And certainly not for a man who thought three stolen potatoes

were a greater offence than breaking a woman’s heart.

If he wanted to find me again, he could start by learning the

difference between claiming a mate and deserving one.