Claimed By The Alpha Who Rejected Me – Rebecca Ellision

It came a third time, and this time they moved together without any signal passing between them at all, her low and his high, a pincer they hadn’t planned and didn’t need to plan, three years of separation apparently insufficient to erase whatever instinct had been built between their bodies long before either of them had words for it. She caught its hind leg and yanked hard enough to throw off its balance. He came down on its exposed flank with everything he had, and this time the creature went down hard, thrashing, that same layered shriek tearing out of it before it finally went still.

Then it wasn’t there anymore. Not dead. Not retreating in any direction either of them could track. Simply gone, the way Toby’s scent trail had simply gone, a presence subtracted from the clearing so completely that if she hadn’t been bleeding from its claws she might have doubted it had been there at all. The silence that followed rang loud enough to hurt. Wren’s pulse was still hammering, adrenaline burning hot and bright through every part of her, and when she turned to check on Holt she found him already closer than the moment required, his hand coming up to her injured arm before either of them had decided that was allowed.

“Let me see,” he said, voice rough. “It’s not deep.” “Let me see anyway.” She let him, because arguing took more energy than she had left after a fight that had ended in nothing at all, and his fingers were careful and warm against her skin where the claw marks had torn through her sleeve, his attention so focused on the wound that she could feel it like a physical thing, heavier than the air around them.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. 1kitap1.com/en CHAPTER ONE Wren Wren Ashby had tracked down liars, deserters, and one rogue who’d eaten a tourist. None of them had ever made her hands shake the way one phone call with an Ashgrove area code just did.

But that came later. Three hours earlier, she’d been crouched behind a dumpster outside a defunct hardware store in Wenatchee, listening to a man named Curtis Pruett tell his girlfriend over the phone that he just needed two more weeks before he could pay off the debt thing, easy, no big deal, nothing she needed to worry about. He smelled like he’d been crying. Fear did that to people. It curdled the sweat, turned it sour and sharp, and Curtis had been sweating like that for three days straight, ever since he’d skipped out on a blood debt to the Choctaw Ridge pack and decided a human town with bad cell reception was a good place to disappear.

It wasn’t. She’d caught wolves by less than a phone call. A skipped heartbeat. A breath held two seconds too long. People thought lying was something that lived in the words, a trick of the mouth, but it never was. It lived in the body. Bodies were terrible liars if you knew what to listen for, and three years of doing this for a living had taught her exactly that.

Wren straightened up, rolled her shoulders, and waited for him to hang up. “He’s about to bolt,” she said into the radio clipped to her collar. Theo’s voice crackled back, half amused, half resigned. “He’s been about to bolt for ten minutes. At some point that’s just called standing still.” “Give him a minute. Guilt’s slow.” “Some of us don’t have your nose for it.” “Some of you should get one.” She heard the screen door creak open behind the building, heard Curtis’s sneakers hit gravel, heard the particular hitch in his breath that meant he’d just spotted the open lot and convinced himself it led somewhere good.

It didn’t. She caught him eleven steps later, one hand fisted in the back of his jacket, the other pressing flat between his shoulder blades hard enough to fold him over the hood of a rusted Civic. “You don’t smell like a man who’s two weeks from solvent,” she said. “You don’t know anything about me.” “I know you’ve got a girlfriend in Spokane who thinks you’re working construction, and a pack three states over that wants their debt paid in something other than excuses.” She leaned down, close enough that he could feel her breath against his ear.

“Pick one truth and stick with it. Makes my job easier.”

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: aa786d0a4d22166f
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 1,589,939 bytes (1.516 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 136
• Language: English (en)

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• Estimated Reading Time: 223.31 minutes
• Total Words: 44,661
• Total Characters: 251,334
• Average Words per Page: 328.39
• Average Characters per Page: 1848.04

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