Page 216 of Alpha Mates

My mouth dries and I feel his eyes boring holes into the side of my face.

“Do you know what you did in there?” he asks, voice rising with his worry.

I stare at the blood drying around my nails, the grooves I’ve cut into the steering wheel. I wanted blood and found it, twice over, and still that tiny voice in the back of my head whispers to go back and finish the job. I squeeze my eyes shut, then open them before I send us off the fucking road.

Years spent working around the anger, the needless urge to kill, and here it is again, front and centre, ’cause I lost it for one stupid second.

“Aiden,” Julian’s voice cuts sharper now. “Do you really understand what you’ve just done—losing it like that in a room full of humans?”

“I know!” I bark, trying to breathe. Fuck, I need out of here. “That’s why I’m trying to get us home!”

I should be heading the other way, out of town, out to my safe haven for when things got bad, ’cause things are very bad right now. But Julian’s here, and I need to get him home first.

I check the rearview mirror, making sure Beckett and Isabel are still on our asses before I press harder on the gas.

Julian sinks back into his seat, and he’s fucking fuming, but stays quiet so I can focus.

The drive home isn’t long, but it drags—eyes flicking to the mirrors, horror claiming each breath. By the time we cross the pack’s borders, I’m sick to my stomach and I can’t slow myself down until I’m parked outside our packhouse.

I pull the handbrake with shaking fingers and try to funnel oxygen into my lungs, but my head pounds. I can feel myself unravelling at the seams.

“Aiden. What the hell was that?”

I sigh. I don’t mean to, but Goddess … I’m exhausted and keyed up, and the very last thing I want to do right now is explain that shit—myshit—to Julian.

“Not tonight,” I beg, resting my forehead on the steering wheel. Still trembling. “Please, not tonight.”

Maybe he would’ve given me grace if he hadn’t already asked the night before. and the night before that, and all the nights before those. He’s beentrying to understand, but like me, Julian has his limits, and I’ve driven us right off the edge.

“Not tonight?” he echoes hoarsely. “Not tonight?” Louder now. “So when, Aiden? When will you be willing to speak to me again?”

“Julian—”

“No,” he snaps, voice shaking with his anger. “I’m tired of this. I’m tired of you shoving me aside like I’m not here. You don’t want to tell me whatever’s going on with you lately? Fine, but you need to explain—actually explain—what the hell just happened!”

“I know I do, but—” I shake my head, trying to clear the mess inside it long enough to think.

“But what?” Julian presses. “You just shoved a bottle into a man’s hand, Aiden!”

Shame spikes as I remember the man’s face, all their faces, but the still-boiling anger under it roars back up.

“None of that would have happened if you weren’t out there in the first place.”

Julian barks a laugh, but it’s not like the one I witnessed earlier. There’s no humour in it, only cold rage. “So this is my fault?” he asks, breath rough.

I shake my head. No. That isn’t it. That’s not what I’m trying to say and this isn’t what I want. I just want out.

I stumble out of the car, hand on the door for balance, but it jolts in my grip when Julian gets out and slams his door behind him.

“Yeah, of course—provide no explanation, just the assumption that I’ll listen and do whatever you say,” he goads as he circles the car and marches towards me. “I’m your mate, not your bitch, Aiden!” His voice is loud enough to challenge the pounding in my head.

“I know that!” I snap, forcing my eyes up to meet his for the first time. “I know you’re angry and confused. I didn’t want that to happen. I just wanted some time to not be okay. Can I have that, Julian?”

“You’re not okay, but you were okay enough to go hunt rogues before you came to me?” Julian asks the question, throwing me so far off guard that I can only stare at him. “You smell like them. And blood,a lotof blood.”

“They were near the packlands. I handled it,” I grit out, only for him to huff another laugh. “What?”

“There were three,” he chides, letting me know it’s more than just the blood wafting from me that filled him in. “Three rogues had to be handled, or did you just want to kill them?”