Chapter 15 – M E M P H I S
My boots have started wearingthrough the grass as I pace back and forth outside Brooklyn’s shelter. With the fire so close, it’s too dangerous for me to go out for a walk by myself again. But I can’t sit quietly and wait, like Denver’s doing right now. I’ve got too much pent-up energy to stay still.
I can’t bear the reality. Brooklyn’s being knotted by another man not twenty feet away from me.
Pure jealousy courses through my veins. I wanted to be the one to care for her, not him. It should have been me, goddammit. I don’t give a flying fuck that he’s the one who’s been with an Omega in heat—Brooklyn doesn’t fucking belong to him. I should go in that shelter and throw him off her. Prove that I’m the one who can take away her pain. Not Camden, me.
Then I remember her wide, frightened eyes at the campfire.
She doesn’t want me. She’s fucking terrified of me. And why wouldn’t she be? All she’s seen me do is snarl and run from her. It’s my own fault.
I’ve never felt anything like what I feel for Brooklyn. Like there’s some invisible tether between us, drawing me right to her side. It’s all-consuming, almost an obsession. I care for her so much that it’s driving me insane, and she has no idea.
I might know in my heart that I care more about her, but Cam’s the one who was able to actually prove how he feels. He talked Brooklyn down that first night when she wanted to run. He’s the one she looks at without fear in her eyes. People feel comfortable around him, and when Denver and I were gruff and overbearing, Camden stayed cool. He’s the only reason she didn’t make a break for it right away.
I know I’m not that guy—I’m not calm and kind, and nobody has ever called me disarming. I’m a loner. I have no practice charming strangers, and before today, it wasn’t a skill I missed.
Now, it feels like a fatal flaw.
Because Brooklyn doesn’t have a clue how badly I want to take care of her. Technically, I didn’t start tracking her until we walked in the forest. But I feel like I’ve been searching for her since the second I saw her picture. Taking care of her is now the only thing that matters. If I want her, I’ve got to figure out how to show it.
I’m no good with words, but it doesn’t matter. My actions will prove to Brooklyn that she’s safe with me. I’ve got to figure out how to control my response to her scent. Remembering the mint we used last night, I go to my pack and rummage through until I find some leaves. I rub some under my nose then start chewing on them for good measure.
Even though I want to keep pacing, we’ve still got a long way to go today. I should conserve my energy. I take a seat on a fallen log next to Denver.
“You good?” Denver asks me, setting his hand on my shoulder.
“I’m fine,” I tell him.
I must sound convincing, because he doesn’t push like he did before.
The log we’re sitting on faces the door of the shelter. Brooklyn probably moved it here herself, someplace to sit when she cooked outside. It probably weighs more than she does, and I wonder what clever trick she came up with to move it. The fact that she built the shelter by herself is remarkable.
Finally, the tarp door rustles and Camden emerges. He looks too fucking smug to me, smiling and sated. Behind him, Brooklyn peeks out. Thank God, she’s strong enough to walk on her own now. She changed from her little shorts into blue jeans. She’s still weak and trembling, a far cry from the lithe, limber woman we saw last night. Her heat hit her hard, and I feel a sharp pang of concern.
“So what now?” Camden asks, sounding chipper. I hate his stupid voice.
“We go north,” Denver says. “Mountain range to the west, fire to the east and moving south. We’ve got to get around it.”
Normally, a mountain wouldn’t be an insurmountable roadblock, but we can all see that Brooklyn’s in no condition to climb. Even if it brings us further from our destination, going north is the smart option.
“You have everything?” Denver asks Brooklyn.
Camden holds up his pack. “She put what she wants in here.”
I loathe that he’s the one carrying her supplies instead of me. Freaking over-the-top Camden. Later, I’ll remember that I actually kind of like the guy. But right now, my jealousy just keeps saying, fuck him.
Brooklyn pauses, then ducks back into her shelter. She returns with my crossbow in her hand. She looks a little guilty as she hands it back to me. I make sure to smile when I take it from her.
“Thanks,” I tell her softly.
Her cheeks turn pink, and the jealous monster inside me purrs with satisfaction. I made her blush.
When she steps away from me, I see Camden and Denver let out a visual sigh of relief, which makes me bristle. They don’t trust me with her. I know her scent has affected me more than them, but what do they think I’m going to do, jump on her, tear her clothes off, and knot her right in front of them? Yeah, I might have been thinking about doing exactly that a few minutes ago, but they don’t know that.
“Let’s get going,” Denver orders. This time, he leads the way, Camden following him with Brooklyn just behind. I strap my crossbow on the top of my backpack and bring up the rear. In front of me, Brooklyn looks back at her shelter wistfully. It breaks my heart—she’s not just enduring a heat with three strange Alphas, she’s also leaving her home behind.
Because the shelter is home for her. Technically, we’re bringing her back to her house, but I get it—sometimes, I feel like my real home is under the stars.
We make good time at the beginning. Lightning crackles occasionally, reminding us that the storm hasn’t passed yet, but the smell of smoke from the fire is getting weaker. We’re going in the direction we need to go. Brooklyn occasionally peeks back at me, like she’s keeping track of me. Clearly, she doesn’t trust me yet. I just respond with a friendly quirk of my lips.
Trust takes time to build. I’ve got nothing but time to do that.
After an hour or so, Brooklyn’s movements slow. I can tell by the way she hunches her shoulders that the pain’s started again.
“Need some pain reliever?” I ask.
She looks back at me, eyes wide with surprise. I wonder if it’s from me noticing her pain, or from me finally being civil with her. Ahead of us, I see the other guys stop.
“Yes, thank you,” Brooklyn says, extending a hand.
I take my pack off and find the bottle, pouring two pills into my hand. I pass it to her with my water bottle. When my fingers graze hers, she doesn’t pull back.
Progress.
Denver and Camden, on the other hand, practically jump when we get close enough to touch. Their suspicion is getting old pretty fucking fast. They don’t want me anywhere near her, but they better get used to it. Because she’s finally giving me signs that she could trust me, and I have no intention of letting her go.
She passes the water bottle back, but I hold up my hand.
“Keep it. You should rehydrate.”
This time Brooklyn doesn’t thank me, but she doesn’t need to. Her blue and brown eyes practically glow with gratitude. It should cheer me up, but instead it irritates me. Is she so desperate for the smallest speck of kindness? Why does offering her some water make her look like she’s never been given something so beautiful in her life?
She sips while we walk but doesn’t speak. I know it’s been a while since she was around people, but my instincts tell me this is more than that. Brooklyn only speaks when she has something to say. A lot like me. But I wish she wasn’t, because for once, I actually want to listen to someone. I want to know everything about her—what makes her happy? Does she have hopes for her life outside of this forest? Does she even want to leave?
When I first saw her picture, I suspected she was sad, defeated, even. And I want to know why.
So I decide to do something I haven’t tried doing in a long time.
I’m going to attempt to make small talk.
I take a few steps forward so I’m walking beside her. I keep a few feet between us, so she doesn’t spook at my proximity. Her full lips are pursed when she glances over at me.
“Do you know how long you’ve been out here?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says simply.
Just like that, I’ve hit a dead end. I suck at small talk.
“You built your shelter by yourself?”
The look she gives me is withering. “No, the forest creatures helped me, you know, like the mice from Cinderella?”
I press my lips tight against a laugh, and she looks absolutely mortified. As if she didn’t mean to say it at all. Like it was just a sarcastic thought that somehow managed to sneak past her defenses. At least she’s talking, so I try asking something else I’m really curious about.
“Where’d you learn how to make that trigger snare?”
That makes her grin. It’s completely different from her shy smiles before. It lights up her face and fucking dazzles me.
“You found it, huh?” She sounds proud of herself.
“I didn’t just find it. I tripped it.”
She frowns. “Wait, so it didn’t work?”
“Oh, it worked just fine. I’d be walking with a spear through my chest if Camden hadn’t knocked me out of the way.”
“Sorry for almost killing you,” she says.
“No, you’re not,” I tell her, raising a brow. She looked way more disappointed that her trap might have failed than worried about my safety. I might as well call her out on it.
“Fine,” she admits. “I’m not sorry. But I didn’t set it for you so don’t take it personally.”
“That’s what Denver said,” I groan. “But really, where’d you learn?”
“My momma.”
I bark out a laugh. It makes the guys in front of us turn around, expressions of confusion on their faces. Might be the first time they’ve heard me laugh.
“All my mom ever taught me to do was make spaghetti and parallel park,” I explain. “Showing me how to sharpen a spear wasn’t on the agenda.”
Brooklyn’s expression turns wistful. “Momma was full of surprises. She was so curious, and she hated not knowing how to do something. Anytime she found out about something new, she had to learn how to do it herself. Baking bread, salsa dancing, pottery—she did it all.”
I almost stumble over a root because I can’t take my eyes away from Brooklyn’s face. She lights up when she talks about her mother. The memories have unlocked something in her—where every word sounded forced before, now they flow easily.
“The best memories from my childhood were out here, with her. She’d take me hiking and show me everything she knew about the woods. How to forage for food, or build a shelter, or set a trap—for an animal or a person. The lessons were real, but they always felt like a game. Like something Momma and I were playing together. I had no idea why she was teaching me how to snare rabbits instead of how to play the piano or something. But she knew that one day, I’d need those lessons to survive.”
Wait, what? Why would her mother assume Brooklyn would need to build a shelter and feed herself in the wilderness? Especially when her family had a mansion like that.
Brooklyn stops talking abruptly, her lips pursed once again. She regrets telling me that, which only makes me more curious.
“Why did she think you’d need the lessons?” I ask, my voice soft.
This time, she doesn’t even give me a word. She shakes her head, clearly done talking. I grind my teeth in annoyance. I know there’s a reason, right under the surface. It might be the same reason she looked so unhappy. Fuck, I wish there was some way I could get her to confide in me.
I shouldn’t push her. If she’s like me, she’ll talk when she’s ready. My focus should stay on earning her trust instead of rushing her to share her secrets with me. Even though I’m dying to know the truth, I keep my mouth shut.
Then Brooklyn hisses in pain and crumples to the ground. Seeing her go down causes my heart to practically stop. I thought she might have twisted her ankle until I see her clutching her stomach. Fuck, the pain from her heat is worse.
I’m on my knees, brushing her hair back from her face before I’m even aware I’m doing it. “Hey, baby, are you okay?” I croon.
She blinks back the tears in her mismatched eyes. She’s still trying to be strong, even while she’s obviously in agony.
“I’m fine,” she insists.
I hear heavy footsteps as the other guys run back to meet us.
“What happened?” Denver demands.
“Her heat. The pain’s so bad, she collapsed,” I explain.
“It’s okay. I can walk,” she says, trying vainly to push herself to her feet. After a moment, she sighs in defeat. We all know there’s no way she can go any further.
“I’ll carry you.”
She bites her lip as she glances up at me. “Really?” she asks softly.
“Of course. It’s no trouble,” I say.
At the same time, Denver says, “No goddamn way.”
I glare daggers at the guy. I’m not some child who needs a babysitter. For the past few hours, my self-control has been pristine. Chewing the mint helped but so did talking to Brooklyn. I genuinely like her now, the thoughtful, sarcastic survivor who’s shown us so much strength. My feelings make it easier to push down my more animal impulses.
“I can do it,” Camden pipes up.
“You’re already carrying supplies for two,” I point out. “Denver’s got plenty in his pack, as well. I got this.”
“Are you sure?” Denver asks.
“I’ve carried a hundred pound buck thirty miles uphill in a rainstorm.,” I snap. “I can handle one little Omega, for as long as she needs me to.”
Denver and Camden exchange glances. I know they weren’t questioning my physical strength—it’s my Alpha instincts they’re worried about. I can tell they don’t want to bring that up in front of Brooklyn, but I don’t care. I’m ready to defend myself.
“What about your backpack?” Denver prods.
“We’ve all got backpacks. I’ll carry her in the front,” I explain. “We can use some rope to rig her so she doesn’t have to work and hold herself up. And we’re wasting time arguing about this. If Brooklyn’s fine with it, then I’m carrying her. End of story.”
I refuse to give in. When they wanted Camden to be the one to knot her, I stepped aside. This time, I’m not giving up. If they want proof I can handle myself around Brooklyn, this is how they get it. I doubted myself before, but now I’m positive. I’d slit my throat before I hurt this girl. She’s in no danger from me.
“I want him to.”
Our heads all spin to Brooklyn who is still sitting on the forest floor. She looks like she’s tired of listening to us arguing, and frankly, I can’t blame her. I shoot the other guys a knowing look, and Denver sighs. None of us is ready to refuse Brooklyn anything when her pain’s this bad.
“Let’s get you hooked up,” Camden says.
We end up attaching a rope to my pack straps that loops under Brooklyn’s butt. It’s almost like she’s in a little hammock. I take a few practice steps, and find it’s not awkward to carry her.
“Let’s get going, then,” Denver orders.
I quickly find that carrying Brooklyn feels incredible. Her scent surrounds me deliciously, and I love how small she feels in my arms. Being this close seems to be helping her, too. She’s not shaking as much as she was when I first picked her up. Her body must assume that if an Alpha’s this close, he’ll probably knot her pretty damn soon.
She shifts slightly, getting comfortable.
“Is it okay if I put my head on your shoulder?” she whispers.
Yes. Do it. Then don’t ever move. I can hold you forever.
“Of course,” I say out loud.
She makes a small contented sound, settling in and wrapping her arms around my neck. Her soft breath brushes my neck, and I fucking shiver. Holding her like this feels so right. The way she fits against me is so perfect, it’s like she was made for me. The soft curves of her thighs rest on one of my forearms, while the other wraps securely around her torso.
The self-control I felt before is slipping away with every second. I’m getting hard, my erection pressing uncomfortably through the seam of my pants. I just hope Brooklyn can’t feel it.