Rejected Mate and Following Fate

Chapter 55: Deacon

I flash a wary look at the Doc in the corner, who turns a paler shade, his brow furrowing, etching his features into that of worry, and he casts an evasive look back at me. He darts a glance at Colton then back again to me, suddenly sheepish.

"It can't be Deacon, right? It's too early!" I point out while asking him to confirm, to calm my own sudden whirlwind of nerves, hating the apprehension I can feel from him, but he swallows loudly.

"I may have over exaggerated our head start rather somewhat, a teensy little bit. I didn't want to alarm you and give you reason to doubt coming with me, dear girl. If you knew they were hot on our heels, so to speak, you would have queried the plan and I had faith the fates would intervene if we just got out. I had to keep the sedation low, so I didn't kill my human staff in the process, and sadly that meant the wolves recovered quickly." He's apprehensive about admitting to a lie, recoiling slightly and I give him a deflated smile, translating that it's okay and it doesn't really make much difference now, because it is what it is.

"Damn right, it's Deacon. Meadow and the pack are tracing them down the north road in, following them. They'll be here in a couple of minutes." Colton growls and sweeps past me, determination oozing from him, and that growing hostility coming off him like a dense smoke. He's moving into battle mode in his head and I can't do much except follow him out of the infirmary. Knowing no matter what, I should be out there for this entourage arriving. After all, it's because of me and Sierra they are even coming. "You should stay here." Colton flashes me back a moody look, fierce, overbearing protectiveness shining through, and gets my 'hell no' glare of warning flashed right back.

I'm not about to be sat in the corner and cotton wrapped because Colton thinks he needs to take care of a feeble little femme. This femme took down a bear, and she isn't about to be intimidated by that idiot Deacon.Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

'That son of a bitch darted me in the back. I'm not missing him crawling up and realizing this is a Santo domain! I want to experience that epiphany and watch him grovel.' It's through gritted teeth as my own aggression peeks, thinking about that smug assholes face, and the longing to kick him in the balls when I was in the facility. That little simmer of rage ignites and my skin tingles in anticipation, revving up my anger for that slimy weasel.

"You stay on my ass then. Stay close where I can intervene should I need to." Colton drops that overbearing, no nonsense command, and turns away, obviously picking up on my stubborn tone and knowing arguing with me is futile. Still has to be in charge of my safety though.

He leads the way immediately, straight out into the hallway, through the foyer, and out the still open main door at hyper speed. Other wolves either getting out of the way, or turning and following their leader, as I assume, he pack links and issues orders.

He's eager to get out front and await our guests. His wolf starting to peek in the glowing of his eyes and that snarl in his tone, but he keeps it in check and stays mostly human, rolling his shoulders and leaning forward lightly, so that stance of psycho comes through prominently when we come to a halt at the gravel driveway that spans the whole front width of the homestead.

Wolves tend to hunch forward and look at you from a tilted down chin. It's usually because as wolves we prefer to go to all fours even though we can walk upright, and Colton seems caught between the two. Stance and lowered head as his eyes glow viciously and his words take on that dominant growl in the undertones. He isn't planning on turning, but he is planning on intimidating the shit out of Deacon. I can sense his actions and read him way better than I used to be able to. I wonder if our wolves are synching a little because of the closeness of how we got in the infirmary, or maybe I'm just getting better at dissecting the mood and picking out who's belongs to who.

He leads us out across the new, cleared sweeping gravel drive, all the vehicles are gone, and I can see how huge the forefront of the homestead's entry is. Without the wolves flanking and taking us in without

seeing it, I can appreciate the wide vast space, tree lined with dense forest, and only one narrow opening coming in north bound. Colton was right about this being smaller than the manor at the mountain, but it's still pretty impressive.

The headlights flash in the far distance through that gap in the trees and I realize it's because the road is straight, and long, and standing here, we can see it for a couple of miles. Being dark means we can see the flickering lights moving in on us. Like incoming orbs bouncing around on uneven gravel terrain.

"Two trucks… Radar can pick out heat signatures of twelve wolves between the two." Colton murmurs it at me, as if Radar being able to do that isn't a surprise, and now his name makes perfect sense. He can see body heat through objects, infrared sight.

Something slight catches my eye distracting me from this wonder, just past him as I look his way. Adjusting my nocturnal vision, I realize Santo wolves are moving in from the tree line stealthily and standing spread out around us in the shadows. Watching, waiting, prepping to be there should their alpha need them, and I again hate that I'm not linked in and hearing the communications between them all. It's obvious by the silent way they get in position and nod at one another that there's a line of chatter getting them where needed. They're preparing for battle because they don't know how things are going to play out.

"Doc said there were nineteen wolves at the facility, so I'm guessing he left a few behind to keep the humans in check." I add in afterthought, sticking close to him as a few warm bodies close up behind us, wolves I don't know well but we're being flanked by more than a dozen anyway, and I wonder where the sub pack are.

Colton starts pacing, side to side, adrenalin, and hostile levels are so high he's even affecting me, and my body starts to lightly vibrate. Watching the oncoming truck, bristling with fierceness, and all I can do is watch, and wait, with held breath. Nervousness hitching up because I don't know how this is going to go, and even though we outnumber them, I'm still not a wolf that's ever had to battle another wolf like

this. Colton doesn't count that one time he triggered me, and I can't even remember it happening. I feel nauseous even while still crazily angry at Deacon and start wringing my hands together to calm my stupid nerves.

Colton walks six feet to the left, turns and walks it back again, like a caged animal, and I can taste his impatience in wanting to deal with this. He's stiff, and solid looking, ready to pounce, and I can taste the nearness of his wolf as he verges on turning. It's like a high-level energy feeding mine, and my own wolf starts to internally wriggle around with a need to show face.

He's in full blown aggression mode, his alpha scent getting so heady that my own wolf starts to snarl in response, and I have to deep breath and count to ten to keep her tamed. He's riling the pack, and the murmur of restless snarls around me tell me they're all poised and ready to fight, feeding from their leader's need to attack. The psychic bond of a pack, so that when their alpha hits a battle, they all rev up and flock to him, ready to die for the good of the pack. It's becoming unbearable, and invasive, as it shrouds like a dark smog around us and I can hardly breathe with the impending pressure.

I touch him on the shoulder as a way to break his intent focus on the incoming, as he paces past me for the tenth time and he pauses, spinning his head to me away from the road. It's like I jolted him with a taser, such is his reaction, because he was caught up in his instincts and senses.

"Deacon's a coward and no match for us. Be still. You're making the pack restless and blood thirsty." I try and soothe him with a small squeeze. Colton inhales slowly but reaches out and runs his thumb over my bottom lip gently, igniting a crazy number of butterflies in my stomach with the simplest of touches, as he focuses those glowing eyes on mine.

"He laid his hands on you. Kept my mom prisoner. I don't care if he refuses to fight, or runs… I'll take him down regardless." It's the vicious, lethal, protective coming out and I can only give Colton a soft

look. I can't argue when he's fueled by instinct, I can only let him be, and let him handle this how he needs to.

"Many of these wolves have never known battle. Think of the vulnerable among us. We want them to feel safe here, not traumatized by a war on the doorstep. Be a leader. Put vengeance aside for the good of those. There are children here." I remind him gently, and it has the same effect as a calming wave washing over him. It's enough to level down the rage, and he exhales heavily to release some of his tension, knowing I'm right. He nods, releasing me and turning away to watch the road once more, but I can already tell he's reeled in so much of his testosterone already. My words having an effect.

The wolf hierarchy is not that complex, and wolves have certain traits you just have to accept. One being that a male is deathly aggressive, possessive, and protective of his mate, even if she isn't technically his, and they maybe imprinted. The need is the same. Colton's an alpha which means his protective instincts are enhanced naturally, at about five hundred percent higher than most, to be honest. The whole good of the pack, putting his people above all, is a born alpha trait, and it's crazily hitched up to about a thousand times more intense once a dominant takes on his role as leader. So, Colton is fueled by that. I can see it in him, making him antsy, interwoven with turmoil, and rage. I'm not just his fated mate, in his head I'm part of his pack too, and Deacon disrespected me. He disrespected the Luna also. Colton's loyalty to his mom is as strong as his love for her, for me. As Alpha he wants to reset the balance, to deal with the insult and offence dealt this way.

The headlights pull my eyes from Colton to them as they flash violently, swinging around into the car par as they trundle in and catch us all standing here waiting. The low humming of two big green military trucks that I recognize from the bay. Both have tented backs and seem so much bigger out here in the dark.

The first truck veers left and skids to a halt, obviously not expecting the welcome party out front and maneuvers an emergency divert, and the second slams on the breaks immediately, sliding on the

gravel an extra few feet dramatically, stops dead in the entranceway, blocking it off in a mist of scrambled dust.

There's a moment of pause as no one moves, and the sound of the humming trucks is the only noise ringing heavily through the eerie quiet. The distant whoop, whoop, of wolves coming from behind alert the presence of our own sub pack returning behind them, and they seem to be in joyful spirits at trapping these bugs in their web, from all sides. It's as though everyone holds their breath, and waits for someone else to make the first move, and Colton becomes stealthily still, completely trained on the first truck as he hones in on the driver seat through the side mirror, his low growl vibrates through my stomach.