Chapter 10 – B R O O K L Y N
It only takesme a few hours to get back to my shelter, which is a problem. I’m closer to the Alphas’ campsite than I’d like. Even now, they could be tracking me here. I have to quickly gather all the supplies I’ll need, then run fast in the opposite direction.
Normally, returning to my territory fills me with a sense of calm. Now, not even the trees and stones I know so well can steady me. This might be the last time I’m here—once the Alphas find it, it won’t be safe anymore.
I go right inside and throw Camden’s pack on my bed. It’s bigger and sturdier than any bag I’ve got in the shelter, plus it doesn’t carry as much of my scent.
My heart aches at the thought of leaving my shelter. It’s been my sanctuary for so many months, the place where I can retreat and feel fully safe. My hand drifts to one of my birch bark paintings. I’ve made this place my own.
But I can’t risk staying here. My scent is everywhere—it’s practically a homing beacon for the Alphas. There’s no time to be nostalgic about what I’ll leave behind.
I have no idea how many people Papa has sent into Olympic to find me, but these three were the only ones who got close. They’re pros. Denver’s clearly military, and Memphis’s crossbow tells me he’s a hunter. He’ll be able to navigate these woods easily. I don’t know what Camden’s background is, but he’s clever and strategic. He played me like a fiddle, getting me to stop running and listen to him. I’m not surprised by their skill. Roger Castle doesn’t hire amateurs, and this team is on another level.
They’ll find this shelter. That, I’m sure of. I covered my tracks here well, which should slow them down, but I’m under no illusion that it’ll stop them. They’ll be familiar with my scent now, and slick has been steadily pooling between my legs. My only hope is that I can slip away and lose them once the rain starts. I don’t know when that will be, but rain is inevitable in Olympic. Hopefully, it’s sooner than later.
What’s most important?I review the supplies at hand. My food store is too big for me to take even half of it. I was already saving for a winter that I might never see in these woods again. If I’m lucky, the Alphas will leave my shelter alone, and in a few months I can sneak back to get the things I’ve left behind.
I snort. I think I used up all my luck yesterday. Instead, the Alphas will probably wreck my shelter so there’s no place for me to return to. I’d expect no less from Papa’s hired guns. He’ll want to make sure there’s no safe place for me to hide.
There’s only room in the pack for the essentials. Matches, medicine, a warm sleeping bag, my sewing kit. The biggest pot I have—I can boil water in it, and I was lucky to get one this large in the woods at all. It kills me to leave my T-shirt quilt behind, but it can’t be helped. After sleeping with it for so long, it reeks with my smell.
All the art, the carvings and paintings I’ve poured my heart into, will have to stay. I try to be merciless when I select only the most important things.
My hands shake so hard that I drop the water filter in my hand. My vision spins as I try in vain to catch it, and it clatters to the ground. I sink to my bed on the floor and put my head in my hands. I force myself to take deep breaths. I can’t afford to fall apart. Time is my only advantage against the Alphas.
I can’t deny that I’m truly sick now. My skin feels clammy and sensitive, and sweat beads on my forehead and chest. Maybe the Alphas gave me a bug from the city, some virus my immune system has forgotten how to fight.
But deep down, I know I’m fooling myself. Being so near three Alphas ignited what I’ve been putting off for so long. My heat’s here. I haven’t had one in months, but I remember how it felt when it started. There’s a throbbing need between my legs, and the slick’s flowing freely on my thighs.
I held it off by eating the poisonous berries Momma showed me. It’s dangerous to eat more than a few at a time, though, and they can only do so much. Of course my heat’s here, right when I need my wits about me the most.
There’s nothing I can do to stop it now. All I can do is try to delay the worst of it. If I can get myself off now, maybe I can get it together long enough to pack my stuff and get out of here.
I shove my ragged jeans and panties down over my hips and plunge two fingers into myself. There’s no need to tease my clit to prepare. My body’s ready for an Alpha cock, now.
Adding a third finger, I thrust into myself, trying to numb the empty ache. I buck against my palm, harshly rubbing my clit with it. My other hand kneads my breasts, pinching my peaked nipples. Pleasure crashes through me like a lightning bolt, but the relief is short. I speed up the movement of my fingers, but it’s not nearly enough.
I keen in desperation. My fingers aren’t enough. I need more. I need a cock, I need an Alpha’s knot sinking into me to make the pain go away. My body quakes, demanding a sensation I can’t give it.
Cam’s face swims into my mind. That sweet crooked smile and deep-set, ocean blue eyes. He was so kind, so careful as he moved the towel over my skin to clean me. I moan as I remember his clean, briny ocean scent. Memphis and Denver were delicious, too, but Camden was the one who was kind. Who showed he knew how to take care of me.
Normally, I’d refuse to think about him. When I masturbate, I think about movie stars or musicians. Celebrities—nobody I know. Nobody I could get attached to.
But I have to come, and fast. It’s the only way to get the relief I need. Fighting my fantasies is only going to make it harder.
So I give in. I let myself pretend that my hands are his, that Cam’s long fingers are stroking the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. It’s Cam dragging his fingernails against my ribs and palming my aching breasts. He would be gentler than I was, thrusting his fingers inside me. Teasing me, drawing out my reactions, smiling when he made me shiver.
“Sweet, perfect girl,” Cam praises me, pressing his lips against my temple as he rocks into me. His thick, hard cock slams deep, hitting a spot inside me nobody’s ever reached. His toned chest presses against my own. My hand moves faster and for a moment, I see stars bursting in my vision.
I come with a pathetic wail. The pine bough roof of my shelter absorbs my cries. Tears prick at my eyes. The fantasy of Cam felt so real, it’s almost painful to come back to earth and remember that I’m alone. Nobody is coming to take away the pain. And the heat’s not gone, not by half. It’ll only get worse from here. My fever will rise and the pain will go from awful to unbearable. Omegas have died from the pain of denying what they need.
Sobs threaten to break through my body as it all hits me at once. The pain ripping through me, the fear and adrenaline of the past day, and most of all, the unfairness of it all. I didn’t ask for any of this—not the scar on my neck or the Alphas chasing me down. Worst of all, my body has betrayed me. It’s begging me to run back the way I came, to find them, to let them knot me.
I want to curl up and sob at the injustice of it all, until I’m out of tears.
No. I have to be strong. I refuse to let this be what breaks me.
I force myself to rise from the bed and stagger to my food supply, tearing through the trail mixes and dried fruits until I find what I’m looking for. The root is thick and the dark red color of dried blood. When Momma showed it to me, she was firm—this is a powerful substance, and far more dangerous than even the poisonous berries. It should never be used except in an emergency, and only then, steeped in hot water to make a diluted tea.
I’ve only resorted to using it once before, right before my last heat. It managed to delay the symptoms a few days. But back then, I wasn’t as close to breaking as I am now. My body’s overheated from fever, and my slick’s practically streaming down my thighs. The tea won’t be enough. I have to risk it—I gnaw on the raw root. The taste is so acidic that it almost hurts.
Within seconds, the pain gets worse. I have no idea whether my body is reacting to the root, or whether it’s just my heat forcing itself through. There’s no way to know.
I force myself to finish packing and formulate some kind of plan. Running is still the only option. I’ll go to the creek for more clay to cover up my scent, which is getting stronger by the minute, and I’ll chew the root whenever I have to. Moving with these symptoms will be tough, but I’ll go slow. Hell, I’ll crawl through these woods if need be. Staying in my shelter is not an option.
When I’m sure I’ve packed what I need, I stride outside, trying not to think about leaving my shelter behind. But turns out, I worried too soon.
Charcoal-colored clouds darken the sky, and the air’s heavy with incoming rain. Cold winds swirl around me, and in the distance I see the muted flash of lightning. Seconds later, the roll of thunder shakes the trees around me. This is no regular rain shower—it’s a monster of a storm, headed right at me.
My knees buckle with a flash of pain, and I crumple to the ground, clutching at my stomach. I still can’t tell whether it’s the root’s toxins or my heat. Right now, I don’t care. I just want the pain to stop.
Willpower isn’t enough to get me through this. I’m in no shape to run right now. But the looming clouds might be my saving grace.
The Alphas will want to take shelter. The woods are dangerous in storms like this. Heavy winds make paths so muddy that it’s easy to slip and twist an ankle, or worse. Strong winds can shake loose even the thickest tree branches, and the towering sequoias invite lightning strikes. No matter how good they are, the men pursuing me would be better off waiting until the whole thing passes. If I stay in my shelter, I should be okay—at least, until the storm passes.
I fall back into bed, sliding my fingers under my panties. My body can’t have what it’s craving, but I’ll have to do my best to satisfy it.