“Be careful, you don’t want to be bad-mouthing him. You never know when he might appear and challenge you.”
Her friend burst out laughing. Decker was a strong alpha, and he’d only been challenged a couple of times. Misha had seen him in battle. He was fierce, deadly even. He’d never killed his opponent, but he had no choice but to injure them.
If a challenge was made, it was their rules. Death didn’t have to occur, but serious injury did. The laws were brutal, but they were designed that way on purpose.
“Does Decker know you’re thinking of leaving?” Blueberry asked.
“Decker doesn’t have the right to know what I do. He forfeited that right when he rejected me in front of the entire pack. He can go and suck on his dick for all I care.”
****
Another successful full moon behind him.
The brand-new wolves that had turned had done so successfully. He did prefer it when the new waves of wolves who hit the right transition age embraced who they were. When his father was alpha, he had witnessed several men and women who had fought their change, and it hadn’t been pretty.
His father, Decker Senior, had no choice but to force them to change, rather than them doing it willingly, and it made the experience even more painful than it had to be.
He personally hated using force or bringing forth his alpha to make them turn.
Stepping out of his home and moving toward the town square, he sensed the pack. A happy pack meant a happy alpha. His father had taught him everything he knew. Decker Senior spent a lot of his time enjoying retirement, happily taking his time to embrace hobbies, and of course, spending time with his new wife.
Decker’s mother had died many years ago. The role of alpha’s wife had been too much for her. She hated being a top female, especially as she’d been such a submissive woman who despised conflict. There had been many enemies.
He pushed the thought of his mother’s death to the back of his mind. The fact his father had finally found a woman he loved was a miracle. It was rare for wolves to find a second mate, but he should have known his father was the kind of man who seemed to make miracles happen.
People greeted him as he passed. Giving him a wave or saying good morning. He acknowledged them all and made his way toward the diner.
It was a Friday. He normally avoided the diner on this day as she would be working, but he needed his coffee, badly.
The only vice he had in this life was coffee. He loved the taste of the stuff. It had developed at a young age, and it always helped that the diner possessed an abundance of it.
He walked inside the diner and immediately scented her.
Misha Parks smelled so fucking sweet, like vanilla and cinnamon, the most addictive smell. The diner was full of the pack, but it was her unique fragrance that stood out to him.
He went straight for the counter and took a seat.
Holding up his hand and smiling, he played the role he needed to, even though the tension inside him wouldn’t disappear.
She was close.
He knew she was.
Last night, he’d seen her at the edge of the forest, stripping out of her clothes, where she thought no one was looking, but he always did.
Misha, the rejected, Parks. That was what everyone called her, and he hated it.
He tensed up even more as she came out of the kitchen, carrying two plates. She didn’t look at him. To anyone who didn’t know her, she simply didn’t know he was there, but he saw it. The tension in her arms. The way she carried herself, how tightly woven her body was. She knew he was there, and she chose to ignore him.
Your fault.
With his hands clenched, he didn’t bother to look at her, but the mirrored glass in front of him gave him the perfect view of her.
She made her way to the back of the room, setting down the two plates in front of a woman and her child.
There were smiles on everyone’s faces, and he knew there were pitying looks as well. Everyone in the pack knew she was his mate. They hadn’t been in private when he’d turned his back on her and rejected her. Misha had taken it, and still, she was one of the most valued and loved members of the pack. If anyone needed a helping hand, she was there. Volunteering, helping out, being the ear people talked to, the shoulder to cry on.
She was … incredible.
Free-spirited.
Charming.
As his father once told him, he would have been lucky to have such a mate. No one understood why he’d rejected her.
They all assumed it was because she was a no one. Abandoned, lonely, with no real history there, but that wasn’t the case. He had his reasons. All of them were his own, and he hadn’t told a single soul.
The only person who knew the truth was Blueberry, but she was a bit freaky and appeared to know everything about everyone without them saying a single word.
He still hadn’t been served his coffee.
Decker couldn’t take his gaze away from Misha. The uniform she wore shouldn’t be so appealing. The skirt part of her dress ended at her knee, and it wasn’t fitted to her ass, but he’d seen her in outfits that highlighted her curves to perfection.
He’d memorized the way her body looked, not just in clothes, but also naked. Misha wasn’t ashamed of her body, and just watching her was sheer torture.
Her laughter carried as she talked to a couple of unmated males.
His wolf was close to the surface, wanting to tear them to pieces for even looking at her, but he stayed perfectly still. When they left, he would make sure they all knew not to flirt with her.
Decker had rejected her, but he’d also made sure all single males knew she wasn’t to be touched, not to be mated with either. No one could have her.
One of the men touched her arm. Misha laughed, patting his hand, and then moved away.
It took all of his strength not to pound on the man right there in the diner. He didn’t care if children were present. No one touched Misha. No one.
She rounded the counter, still ignoring him.
None of the other waitresses had come to serve him either.
“What does a man have to do to get a cup of coffee around here?” he asked.
It was the first time he’d spoken to her in months. The last time, he’d reprimanded her for changing the filing system in his office at the town hall.
Misha stopped. He watched her take a breath and turn toward him.
“Seeing as I am the only one here, you will have to accept coffee from me, but last time, you couldn’t stand anything these hands touched, if my memory serves me well enough.” She held her hands up. The bracelets on her wrist slid down her arm, making a tinkling sound as they did.
Children had gifted her a bracelet. There had to be easily twenty on her wrist. He’d seen them running toward her, excited to give the sweet woman a bracelet. Misha accepted each and every single gift they gave her, wearing them all.
“No one is serving me.”
“We’ve got a full house. Will you accept me serving you, or do you want me to get someone else?”
“I’ll have a coffee, extra sweet, please,” he said.
“Coming right up.” She turned her back on him and went to the coffee pot. “To go or to stay?”
“To stay.”
He always left whenever she was near. This was unusual behavior for him. Misha didn’t say anything else. She poured his coffee, added the right amount of sugar, and turned toward him, sliding the large mug his way. “Enjoy.” She gave a little curtsy and left to the kitchen.