Rejection Pays A Price

Chapter Eleven

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~Tamara Rose

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I stared blankly at the wall in front of me, not seeing anything. Not moving. Not caring.

Still bleeding.

A silent sob hitched my breath as I shifted my position. I'd been curled up like this for two days, knees to my chest, chin resting on them, blanket wrapped like a shawl around my shoulders and cocooning me all the way to my toes. I'd told everyone I'd caught a flu. They seemed to buy it after I refused to touch my food, thinking it was a stomach bug.

The problem wasn't my stomach--it was my neck.

Every time the wound scabbed over, I would pick at it repetetively until blood began dripping back out of it. I didn't want the damn thing to heal.

I refused to have a Claim mark on me that had been taken by force, by a man I didn't even love.

But you do love him, my wolf whispered in my head. She'd been doing this since Dylan forced the bite onto me. No matter how right I knew I was, she was more happier than she'd been in years.

What does it matter if the Claim was forced? she echoed cheerfully. Our Mate wants us. He loves us enough to Claim us.

I shook my head, scowling. "Idiot," I muttered under my breath. Great. Now I was talking to myself.

 Sighing, I pulled myself up out of bed. My muscles felt sore as I stood slowly, wincing at the sharp sting of pain that shot through my neck. I really should go out for a walk and stretch my legs. Maybe it would help my wolf clear her head, too, and see how wrong Dylan's actions had been.

Peeling off my clothes, I stepped into the bathroom for a quick shower. To my dismay, when I stepped out, the Claim mark had completely healed over. I gulped, staring at the SCDM (Sierra County~Dylan Marcus) that was permanently imbedded into the skin of my neck, enscribed in beautiful, scarred letters.

A single tear slipped down my cheek and I sniffed. If Dylan had loved me, maybe things would be different. Maybe seeing this Claim would make me feel happy, rather than so angry and upset.

Pulling away from the mirror, I slipped on a black turtleneck and a pair of jean shorts. Quickly pulling my hair into a ponytail, I opened my bedroom window and balanced carefully on the windowsill.

Sneaking out wasn't an option--it was necessary. If Mark or Jordan smelled the Claim freshly placed on my wolf, Dylan would be dead in three seconds flat.

And as much as I hated him, that would hurt me more than I'd like it to.

I gently jumped out the window and landed with a soft thud on the ground a dozen or so feet below. I jogged into the woods nearby, not wanting to shift into wolf form right away.

There is no idea in my mind how the hell this happened, but I lost track of time badly. One second I was walking along, lost in thought, and the next I was looking around to find myself in unfamiliar territory, with the sky darkening above me.

"Shit," I muttered. Even when I'd lived here, I'd never gone this far into the Sierra Count territory. I had no idea where I was.

Before I could think any further, the strong scent of a male wolf suddenly hit my nostrils.

I whipped around, expecting a rogue to be standing there, ready to kill.

To my complete and utter astonishment, it was Dylan.