Page 6 of Never His Mate

I hurt. The way I see it, it’s only fair that I return the favor.

I flex my fingers, my claws positioned perfectly to attack. And I do. I lash out, stabbing him with every single claw on my right hand. The sharp points slide through the fabric of his shirt, the meat in his chest, as I just about touch his fucking heart.

“I gave you mine,” I whisper. “Don’t you think it’s fair I get to take yours in return?”

The wolves behind me go absolutely still. Even after watching me stalk in here, they never really expected Little Miss Shifter Barbie to go feral, and they don’t know what to do. Their Alpha is in danger, but whether Ryker and I have mated yet or not—whether he rejected me or not—their instincts are telling them this is a battle between an alpha couple and they can’t interfere. Not even Shane speaks up again.

They’re half right, too. We’re both alphas here—even if I finally understand that I’ll never be his mate.

Tonight has made that perfectly clear.

Ryker’s expression doesn’t change one bit. One quick jerk, one wrong breath, and I could rip his damn heart right out of his chest, and he looks as disinterested as if we’re discussing the weather.

I want to do it. But that’s the bloodthirsty nature of being an alpha wolf shifter speaking, not my more rational human side.

Actually, no. That’s not right.

It’s the rejected, heartbroken, aching human half that wants to destroy Ryker—but I can’t.

I can’t kill him. I hate him, I hate him for making me want him when I never really had a chance with him, and I hate him for making me love him when I was too young, too silly, too hopeful that he could be my savior. If I mated him, it didn’t matter what I was or who I was. I would be Ryker’s, and maybe then I wouldn’t have to hide.

Welp, I’m definitely not hiding now.

But I can’t kill him. Even now my wolf is whining, eager to lap at the claw marks I’ve made in him, tending to the wolf she instinctively knows is her mate.

Only he isn’t, is he?

I can’t lap at his chest, but I have a better idea. As carefully as I can, I withdraw my claws from his chest. I leave five tears in his shirt, with five perfect puncture wounds deep in his skin that I can’t see save for the blood staining the white fabric a rich crimson.

The points of my claws are coated in his slick blood. Still daring him to even breathe, I lift my right hand to my mouth and, with the tip of my tongue, lave each claw clean.

I can’t help it. As soon as the tang of his life’s blood hits me, I moan.

His eyes widen slightly, the first sign of an honest reaction I’ve gotten from him this last month. Not even when my claws were centimeters from his beating heart did he show any sign that he gave a shit—until now. Until I cleaned his blood off of my claws with my tongue and felt an answering tug deep in my pussy.

I’m not the only one affected by it, either.

Ryker shifts suddenly in his seat, leaning back as I’m forced to move with him. His eyes flare from dark gold to molten lava as my legs spread a little wider, pressing close to him. In this position, there’s no way for me to miss the rock hard erection just underneath me.

I can’t stop what happens next. Between his undeniable arousal and the taste of his blood hot on my tongue, I respond: my eyes flare the same bright golden shade.

Ryker’s lips curve. The tiniest hint of a fang plays peekaboo with me. His hand slides up from his thigh, settling like a possessive brand on my hip. Through the flimsy material of my dress, I feel it. I feel the scorch of his palm on my skin, and I feel the rumble low in his chest that makes us both vibrate.

For the last month—for the last decade—all I’ve wanted was to feel his hands on me. But as the color of his eyes fade back to their dark gold color, I can barely pay attention to his touch.

I’m too busy kicking my own ass.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

He knows. From the shocked silence that is just about screaming at me, he’s not the only one. This is understanding dawning, Ryker’s pack council figuring out that Gemma has been a naughty, naughty wolf.

What did I expect from my little display? That they’d just accept their newest omega had snapped?

Omegas don’t snap.

I start to slide off of him. My twisted instincts are telling me to go, to run, to get out before the rest of the pack turns on me for being another alpha, and not just their leader’s female. But I’ve barely gone an inch away from him before Ryker lashes his hand around my wrist, tugging me closer.

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