Knotting His Rejected Breeder

Aurora opened her eyes to the sound of water.

For a few seconds, she didn’t move. She lay on her side beneath a cluster of wet bushes, one arm trapped beneath her chest. Cold mud pressed against her cheek, and damp strands of hair clung to her face. When she tried to breathe through her nose, the smell of the river filled her lungs.

Her entire body hurt. Her ankle throbbed where the restraint had caught it, her shoulder burned, and dried blood had collected beneath her fingernails. Fresh blood ran down the side of her palm.

She pushed herself up. The world tilted so violently that she caught herself against a tree and stayed there until the dizziness passed. When she looked down at her hands, they were shaking.

"No."

The word came out barely louder than a breath.

She didn’t know where she was. Behind her, the river moved slowly between the trees, black beneath the moonlight. She could hear water running over stones. Aurora stared at it, trying to remember how she had gotten there.

She remembered crossing the river—or part of it. She remembered running, people chasing her, the bridge beneath her feet. After that, the memories broke apart into scattered pieces: chains, a stone floor, wolfsbane, Ramon trying to hold her down, someone shouting.

Then Destiny.

Aurora squeezed her eyes shut. For a moment, she could see her clearly: the courtyard, the way Destiny had looked at her. Not with fear, at least not entirely. Aurora remembered her words, the ones she hadn’t understood at the time.

You don’t have to thank me.

Aurora opened her eyes as something shifted beneath her skin. She grabbed her chest as pain shot through her ribs, her body folding forward as she struggled to breathe until the worst of it passed. The black veins had spread farther, and she could feel the pressure beneath her skin reaching toward her heart and throat.

Then she smelled blood.

Aurora’s head lifted. She listened. At first, there was only the river and the wind moving through the trees, but then she heard something in the distance—a sound too low to be called a howl.

Her body went still.

She didn’t know where the sound had come from; she only knew that something inside her recognized it.

Aurora stood. Her injured ankle protested, but she ignored it and moved toward the riverbank.

"No."

She stopped herself, her breathing quickening as she looked back toward the way she had come.

BloodMoon.

The thought brought another with it: Dane.

His face came back to her, followed by Destiny standing beside him. Aurora remembered what she had wanted when she came to BloodMoon, and what she had done to get it. The realization made her stomach twist.

She took a step backward, but the sound came again. Her head turned sharply toward the trees.

Aurora hated the sudden urge to follow it, forcing herself in the opposite direction until her breathing steadied. She had gone perhaps twenty steps when a sharp pressure began behind her eyes.

She grabbed a tree as the pressure grew. It wasn’t a voice—there were no words she could understand—it was simply something pulling at her body from somewhere beyond the trees.

Aurora lowered her head.

"No."

She tried to resist it, and for a moment, she managed. Then her feet moved anyway.

The trees thinned after a while, opening onto a field where a small farmhouse stood on the other side. One window was lit, and a thin line of smoke rose from the chimney.

Aurora crouched automatically.

She could smell the people inside: two adults, a child. Something warm was cooking in the house, and the scent made her stomach tighten until her mouth filled with saliva. She stared at the farmhouse as the hunger rose sharply, taking one step forward before a dog barked.

Aurora froze.

The animal appeared beside the house, barking louder as a man’s voice came from inside commanding it to be quiet. The door opened and a man stepped onto the porch with a lantern. Aurora lowered herself further into the shadows as the light swept across the field.

The man stopped, looking directly toward the trees.

Aurora held her breath.

The dog growled, and the man took another step. Aurora could hear his heartbeat from where she crouched—fast, though he hadn’t seen her yet. She knew she could cross the field before he reached the edge of the porch; the hunger pushed harder.

Then movement caught her attention behind him.

A little girl stood in the doorway, rubbing one eye.

"Daddy?"

"Go inside," the man said immediately.

"But—"

"Inside."

The girl disappeared behind the door.

Aurora remained where she was, looking at the farmhouse, then down at her hands. The hunger was still there—she felt it in her throat, in the ache of her teeth, in the way her body wanted to move toward the house.

But she couldn’t make herself cross the field.

She backed away, and while the dog continued barking, Aurora turned and ran.

She didn’t know how long she ran after that. Branches struck her face and her bare feet hit stones and roots, but she barely noticed the pain. The pull had become stronger, and now she was certain it was coming from somewhere ahead.

That frightened her more than the physical ache.

Aurora slowed when she reached a narrow path and looked down to find wolf tracks marking the mud. She crouched and touched one: fresh.

There was another beside it, then another—several sets of tracks continuing along the path in the same direction she had been heading.

Aurora stood slowly.

"I can’t," she whispered to the empty air.

Nothing moved around her.

Then a shape passed between two trees ahead.

Aurora’s body tensed. It was far too large to be an ordinary wolf. She took a step backward as another shape moved farther to the left, then another.

Two yellow eyes appeared between the trees, watching her without charging.

A second pair of eyes appeared deeper in the forest, then a third.

Aurora looked behind her. The path back toward the farmhouse was empty.

When she looked back at the wolves, they weren’t circling her; they were waiting. The pressure in her chest returned stronger than before, forcing Aurora to press a hand against her heart.

The wolves lifted their heads at the same time.

For one brief moment, something inside her fought back. She thought of BloodMoon, the temple, Destiny holding the knife, Dane, and the people she had hurt.

She thought about turning around, but the thought lasted only a few seconds before the pull surged again.

Aurora lowered her hand.

The wolves turned and disappeared between the trees, and she followed.

Behind her, the farmhouse remained untouched; ahead of her, the forest became darker, and somewhere beyond it, something was waiting.