His Refused Mate by Jade Marshall

Chapter Three

Peyton

Doing a once-over of my small one-bedroom apartment, I smile to myself. It isn’t much, but it’s mine and I love it. The threadbare red couch I got from Goodwill, the grey curtains flapping in the breeze, and the movie poster against the wall. Every little thing has been my choice.

Since I ran from my pack, a peace has settled over me. The first month I didn’t shift back once, staying in my wolf form. I just relinquished all control. But after that month I knew that even if my life was simpler, I couldn’t give over to my animal completely or I would never be able to change back, so I shifted. I ended up in a small town called Katu Falls, miles away from my pack. Going into the local diner after stealing some clothes from a washing line in someone’s backyard, I was lucky enough to meet Ingrid. She saw me for what I was, a down-on-my-luck runaway. She gave me a job and the tiny apartment above the diner, and I have been here ever since. I work full days at the diner as the head cook, from five AM until eight at night, and although I am tired I have never been happier.

I spend most of my free time in my apartment, reading—that or running my wolf down by the falls. Last night, I let my wolf roam a little farther even though I know there is a pack in the area. But it doesn’t matter. I won’t let it matter … even if I am curious. I plan to stay away from them and the boundary lines from now on. I don’t need or want the attention, and my greatest fear is having them send me back to the Hatcher pack.

Slipping a set of black flats on with my uniform, I make my way downstairs to start my day.

****

After my shift ends I decide to go for a run. I dress in my regular jogging clothes and make my way out.

“Going for a jog?” Ingrid asks as she locks up.

“Yup.” I regard Ingrid, my chest filling with love. She may not be my blood relation, but in the last year she has become a surrogate mother to me. She is exactly how my mother used to be. Loving, compassionate, and most of all giving. Ingrid is the type of woman I aspire to be one day. Her hazel eyes surrounded by crow’s feet are always smiling, while her blonde hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun.

“I wish you wouldn’t go alone at this time of night. There are dangerous people in this world.” Her brow creases with worry as she watches me closely. I want to laugh at the idea of a mugger trying to grab me. I am probably the only woman living in this town that doesn’t have to worry about something like that. Instead of saying that to her, I pull the small can of mace from my pocket and show it to her.

“I’m not unprotected, Ingrid.” I smile at her.

“Okay. Please be safe and I will see you in the morning.” She waves before getting in her car and driving away.

I jog through town, waving at Mr. Simpson, one of my regulars, as he walks his dog. Heading out of town, I make my way over to the waterfall where I always shift. As I enter the clearing, it’s the same feeling I always have when I get here. Peace.

In the moonlight, there are few things as beautiful as this waterfall. The water appears silver in the lunar glow, and the white arum lilies shine luminously. The rushing sound of the water soothes my soul.

Deciding to go for a swim before I shift to my wolf, I get undressed, fold my clothes neatly and place the pile, along with my shoes, behind a tree. Slowly I wade in, enjoying the coolness of the water against my skin. I feel overheated and my skin feels stretched tight over my bones. It has been that way since I got here, and I can’t explain it. I have the most vivid dreams about a man whose face I can’t see no matter how hard I try, and more often than not I wake up with my breasts feeling heavy and an intense ache between my legs.

Dipping my head beneath the water, I clear my mind and take a deep breath as I reemerge. Pushing my hair back, I stare up at the stars and thank the goddess again that I am finally free.

A sound to my left startles me, drawing my attention. Emerging from the treeline is the largest black wolf I have ever seen. I don’t move, afraid to even breathe. I may be able to defend myself against a would-be human attacker, but a wolf, especially one this size, is not something I would ever take on.

Slowly he pads forward before lying down in front of the pool, resting his head on his front paws, his yellow eyes watching me intently. As the fear starts to dim—because he clearly isn’t intent on attacking me—a new scent assaults my senses. Dark and rich, like freshly made coffee. When it hits me, I am transported back to my dreams. Instantly my nipples pebble harder than they already are, my breasts starting to feel heavy, and the throbbing between my legs returns. The arousal is so intense that my knees threaten to buckle.

The black wolf whines before crawling closer on his belly. Even in wolf form, his gaze appears pained. But as I take another deep breath of fresh air, catching the strong scent again, I remember. I remember the last time a smell affected me this way, turned me inside out. I remember the pain that followed once I was rejected. The humiliation of not being good enough for the mate the goddess chose for me.

But it isn’t possible. I have only heard stories of wolves finding a second mate, old wives tales that very few put any stock in. I don’t know anyone who has ever experienced it.

“What do you want?” I question.

Slowly, he starts to shift back to human form. I watch in amazement as the most beautiful man I have ever seen appears before me. If I ever thought that Slade was attractive, I knew nothing. The man before me is gorgeous, with dark hair and a chiseled jaw with a little scruff. Broad shoulders lead down to an expansive chest with beautiful artwork tattooed over his arms. My gaze skims over a perfectly defined abdomen with a V indent beside the hip I have the sudden urge to lick, down to an impressive cock. A fully erect cock.

He stands perfectly still as I take my fill of his physique, but as I stare at him, his cock twitches. As part of the shifter community, I am used to nudity. I have seen my fair share of naked men and cocks in all shapes and sizes, but never in my nineteen years have I felt the urge to get down on my knees, naked, and present myself to a male.

I may be a virgin, but I am not some simpering idiot. Since my humiliation at the hands of my former mate, I have educated myself. I watch porn. I masturbate. I may never have had sex, but I do know the mechanics of it.

“What do you want?” I demand again, straightening my shoulders.

“My mate,” he snaps in return.