Rejected Mate and Following Fate

Chapter 49: You're safe

"Alora, I believe that may be our escort. This is route ten." The doctor nudges me lightly, snapping me out of my long weird daydream in which I bludgeoned Carmen to death with Colton's running shoes, before handing them back to him and walking off into the sunset with a flip of my finger, and I sit upright startled to reality. Heart missing a beat and full on nerves smacking me in the stomach.

There's a convoy of headlights heading our way in the now pitch-dark, long road, stretching ahead, dazzling us slightly as they approach, along what seems to be a long empty highway, lined with dense trees on either side of us. I hadn't even noticed the change in terrain when we got off the dirt track and got onto an actual road. My insides tighten, tense, and painfully pray it is who it is.

I lift the veil and link him, in case we're not at where they are yet, and this is someone I should be worried about. I don't see any other vehicles on the road.

Colton please tell me that's you, the convoy heading towards the military truck on route ten?

I hold my breath, pausing as nervous energy overtakes and straining to see beyond the blinding lights, but it's too dark to make out if the trucks are Santo at all. All I can tell is there is a succession of them as they weave slightly, and headlights peek out on the route ahead.

It's us. You're safe. Pull over.

That husky warm flow of assurance as I hear him inside my mind and I relax a little, letting out the breath I was holding in anticipation. He sounds weird, tense, and maybe still a little annoyed, probably from obsessing over my 'boyfriend' in the last half hour, or however long we've been driving. I've been silently staring out the window, lost in my own head, and the doc just kept ploughing on heading north. No concept of time.

Shouldn't we just follow you?

I query, confused that with the possibility of a pack on our tail that he should want us to stop and not keep moving. I don't understand why he would expect us to.

PULL. OVER!

It's a sharp command, not a request. No hint of polite, or even trying to explain. In that bossy, arrogant, snarly, I am pissed tone, that verges on his alpha gift and I wonder what the hell is eating him. From seemingly calm, and logical, to idiot in a millisecond, all because I questioned him. Maybe he is like his father after all, and that gives me the unyielding urge to tell him where to get off. It brings back my rage from earlier and I spin my head to the doctor with attitude.

us pull over, and he doesn't sound like he's in the mood to argue about it." I sound like a petulant child,

the doc looks tired and weary, and maybe he needs a commander right now, more than I do. The doctor pulls us over to the side of the highway and brings us to an immediate stop, waiting, and watching, as the distant

truck, exhaling and stretching with relief when

air." I point out, opening my door and hopping out before I scream. I'm overcome with the sudden heavy nervous tension of seeing him again, and the rising flames of temper and accusation, because he's being a jerk about

him. My own turbulent emotions are strangling me, and I have this newfound energy buzzing through my limbs suddenly. I can't sit at peace and his

bulk of our vehicle, I lose my nerve completely, turn, and walk to the rear of ours into the darkness, around the back to catch my breath and take a few seconds to re-center myself. I need some Dutch courage and some mood levelling before that moment of reunion with him. I inhale and blow it out heavily, hearing doors opening and slamming, and footsteps, and I know I should just do it. Bite the bullet, walk right out to him. I move out from behind the truck,

the collision. Knocked back momentarily, not really hurt, but definitely

heavy, and lengthy, loaded second, so much translating in the moment and then he lurches forward, partially shadowed out so I can't make out his face perfectly. He grabs me by the wrist

get is a flash of glowing amber eyes appearing in that darkened face, and then I'm completely cocooned in strong arms and molded to a hot hard body that makes me feel small and precious. Wrapped up tight, unable to resist the way he lassos me. He knocks the wind out of me with the intensity of his embrace, hugging me in completely, and burying his face in the crook of my neck, snugly united, and highlighting how perfectly he fits to me. He squeezes almost all the air from me with the force of his hug, not a single part of me that's not pressed to him. His breath tickles and tingles my skin as it makes it way under the neckline of my sweater and I'm dazed by the speed in which he

say it didn't make me momentarily forget everything except how he feels, how good he smells, and how right his touch is. Heartbreakingly so. I melt, my head getting hazy with this need to let him hold me, and I have to swallow back the overwhelming surge of emotion

to hold me in place. Pushing his face against mine so we're cheek to cheek, but his nose grazes my shoulder and I hear, and feel him inhale and release with the same depth of

a snake's death grip, with no hope of escape. I almost fade out into nothing, but feelings of tingles, warm inner waves, and butterflies, and senses of belonging, when something mentally slaps me in the face and reminds me what a shit head he is. Carmen's smug face

in the abdomen with enough force I send him reeling back. His arms impulsively splaying out to stop himself and he manages to stay upright, even though it's obvious I managed to throw him off. That look

a mate out there who wouldn't be too pleased to see how he's behaving with another femme. Even if I was his fated mate

you don't have a shit load of apologizing to do." Its fury building from inside of me, aching to be released, and his simmering to low glow eyes fire right back up, like two very terrifying orange beacons

see you. Excuse me for wanting to react and touch you, when you're all I have thought about for weeks." my anger seems to feed his, and instead of love confessions and apologies, I'm getting asshole Colton. Sometimes I forget he's a Santo, and then he swoops

anymore. Now shut up and let me past. I have to tell him you're here! He's probably hiding in the back already, wondering what the hell is going on." I make an attempt to get by him, to head for the front of the truck, but he steps right at me, blocking me so I bang into his torso and have

Whoever he is, whatever the fuck he is to you, I'm going to fuck him up!" It's a vicious jealous outburst, fueled with a sudden searing rage that even I can

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