The Alpha's Unclaimed Ghost: His Rejected Mate

Crosb

t. The ice in my soul had extinguished all pain, lea

nd. Bonita was "asleep," her breathing ev

orner, not in the bed. But he wasn't sleeping. He stared out

eased with a deep-seated agitati

using him this discomfort? I felt a cold sliver of satisfac

s head snapping toward t

heart jumped.

e-so close that my translucent muzzle was inches from his face. I had never been this

s brow, the way his dark lashes cast shadows against his cheekbones. I had spent three years memorizing his face from

. He couldn't feel me. But I could feel him. Or rather, I could feel the absence of him-the wa

ring the air around me in faint ripples. What was I doing? He couldn't see me. He couldn't feel

furrowed. He was sensing something-something he couldn't name. I saw him exhale slowly, as if shaki

-if I still had one-ham

used. He scanned the empty corner of the room, then

e side table and rose to his

hed hi

the duvet more securely around Bonita's sho

's "sleeping" face. He

as fa

"instinctively" rolled over, her hand darting out

sleep, a vulnerable, drea

the small hand clutching his sh

corner of her eye and traced a path down her temple. "I'm so scared... I saw her... in my dream, there

benefiting from-as a tool for manipulation. But sh

y off somewhere causing trouble, just like she always does. That woman doesn't h

brushed against the edge of his mind, and he pushed it down before it could take root. He shook his head, as if trying to dislodge a thought that didn't bel

"Don't think about her. S

overs. "But if she came back... if she hurt you... I couldn

gers from his shirt and tucked her hand back under the duvet. Th

here. That woman will

road back a solid wall between her and the world. He was guarding h

ine it so clearly. Another feigned whimper, another

It was a

night sky. The moon was hidden behind a thick

he core of my being. I would not let this

Crosby, ma

fades into nothing, I

ll make my family pay for their treachery. And I will watch Bonita Salina

anymore. I had to tr

ng on the side table. A fragile thing, no taller than my paw. I concentrated. I

eyes, the way he had said "that woman" like I was nothing. I thought about everything I h

ime, the v

A tiny, almost invisi

things. Not always. Not easily. But I could. The rage ha

could do. But I knew

g conviction, felt more solid, more r

spectator. From now on, I might