Chapter 18 – B R O O K L Y N
The rain poundson my back as I race through the forest. I weave through the trees as quickly as my feet can carry me. I might not know this territory well, but I’ve got a head start and I plan to make the most of it.
I almost felt bad, leaving Denver in the middle of that log. Poor guy was clearly terrified of heights. He was trembling so hard, I thought he might lose his balance and fall. Part of me wanted to stay long enough to make sure he was safe, but I forced that instinct down. I might not get another chance to run, with only one Alpha watching me, and I don’t have space in my mind for a guilty conscience. I have to focus on running.
Right now, running is impossibly hard.
Some rains start as a mist. You could get a few minutes of light drops before it really starts in earnest. Not this rain. It went from zero to one hundred, falling in sheets so heavy, I can barely see an arm’s length in front of me. The leaves littering the forest floor are slippery under my feet, and I almost lose my balance a few times, barely managing to catch myself on tree trunks. The pleasant soundtrack of the forest, usually full of birdsong and wind, has been overwhelmed by the unrelenting pounding of raindrops. My senses are completely compromised.
So I don’t hear his footsteps at all before Denver tackles me to the ground.
His heavy, muscular body knocks the wind out of me. I struggle against him, but he’s bigger and stronger, driven by anger. He soon has me flat on my back, one hand capturing both my wrists, the other pushing my chest to the ground. His knees pin my legs down. We both gasp for breath, winded and exhausted.
Denver’s usually good at concealing his emotions. Now, he’s either too tired or he just stopped giving a fuck. Rage is written all over his features, his strong jaw clenched and hazel eyes narrowed. Dirty blond hair falls over his forehead, dripping water onto my face.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Denver roars. “You could have gotten me killed, distracting me.”
I say nothing, just stare defiantly back at him. Our chests rise and fall, our breaths mingling. The scent of warm steel and juniper surrounds me. Pure Denver. Despite myself, my body softens, my head falling back to offer my neck to him. The Omega in me, pleased to be captured by such a strong Alpha.
What if he tore down my pants and took me here on the wet ground?
Denver’s eyes flash, and I’m struck with the irrational fear that he just read my mind. I gulp, and he bares his white teeth. He looks like he’s fucking feral.
I’m so turned on, I’m practically keening for him. I’m in a daze as he quickly moves to ensure my capture. The neon yellow rope we used to cross the log is now used to tie my hands together behind my back. My feet are next, until the only thing I can do is wiggle.
So much for escaping. All I’ve managed to do is royally piss off my captor.
Denver puts his pack on backward, so it’s tucked against his chest. His back, apparently, has been reserved for me. He throws me over one broad shoulder, so easily that I might as well weigh nothing at all. I’m stuck looking at his—admittedly sexy—backside as he strides purposefully into the storm.
Thankfully, it looks like I didn’t lead us too far from our path to the caves. I don’t have to wait long before we’ve reached our destination. While Denver turns to look at the surrounding landscape, I’m able to take stock.
The cave in front of us hardly looks welcoming. It’s too deep to see much inside, and what I can see looks wet and slightly slimy. Anything could be in there, from snakes or possums to, god forbid, a grizzly bear. Even the prospect of being out of this goddamn rain doesn’t make me enthusiastic to walk inside.
Denver sets me down on the ground. He makes sure I don’t hit my head, but he’s not exactly gentle. After rifling through his pack, he finds a small black tube which he holds to one eye. Of course, Denver’s got a night vision scope.
He takes a few steps into the cave, then emerges, looking satisfied.
“Nothing in there,” he proclaims. “Should be safe for the night.”
After carrying me in and setting me against the wall, Denver puts on a small electric lantern and gets to work setting up our shelter for the night. He roots through the debris on the ground to find whatever dry wood he can. After watching him for a few minutes, I get impatient.
“I can help, you know,” I call out.
Denver snorts. “Yeah, right. I’m not chasing you through the storm again. It’s been a long day, and I’m tired.”
“I won’t run,” I promise. “You can even take my boots, if you want insurance.”
For once, I’m being honest. I don’t have the supplies to venture out in this rain again, and besides, my heat will be flaring up sooner or later. I might as well wait it out somewhere dry until Memphis and Camden bring back the herbs.
Denver pauses, considering. Finally, he sighs and crouches to untie my hiking boots. “You get these back in the morning,” he says, glaring at me.
I nod. It feels good to take off my boots and socks, both of which are soaking. Once Denver removes my ties, I rub my wrists and ankles to get the blood moving where the rope cut into it. If Denver feels bad about my discomfort, he doesn’t show it.
Together, we gather what dry wood there is. It’s enough to start a fire, though I don’t know if we’ll be able to keep it burning all night. While Denver gets the fire going, I lay out a tarp so we have a clean, dry place to sleep.
Once I’m finished working, I realize how hard my body is shaking. Part of it is that I’m wet and freezing cold in the cave. More importantly, my fever’s started again. The relief I got from Memphis’s knot is long gone now. I hug my knees into myself, trying to conserve what warmth I have.
Denver raises his hands over the small fire, apparently satisfied. Finally, he looks at me, frowning when he sees my shivering.
“Are you all right?”
I try to put on a brave face, since there’s not much we can do about the symptoms now. “Just the fever from my heat. To be expected.”
“You look awful,” he says.
His eyes flit over me, lingering on my breasts. With the cold, my nipples are hard peaks, clearly visible under my shirt. His hazel eyes flash in the firelight, and I think I might see lust in them. For a moment, I wonder if he might take care of me himself.
I want him to take care of me.
“You can hold on for a while,” he says brusquely. “The others will be back soon, they’ll have what you need.”
My face falls before I can stop it. I can’t deny, I want him to touch me. It’s not just my fever and aching core, desperate for relief. It’s him. The way he faced his fears head-on at the ravine, the way he commands respect from the other Alphas. He may be a grumpy asshole, but his strength makes the Omega inside me desperate for him.
He opens his pack, pulling out a pair of flannel pajama pants, a gray t-shirt, and an orange Broncos sweatshirt. He tosses them onto the tarp in front of me, followed by a pair of thick cotton socks.
“Here,” he says gruffly. “Put on some warm clothes.”
He turns his back to me, giving me some privacy. I’m eager to peel off my soaking wet clothes, the skin underneath pruned and pale. Denver’s clothes are so warm in comparison, and his comforting scent becomes even more intense. I have to roll up the sleeves a few times before my hands are remotely visible, and even with the drawstring pulled tight on the flannel pants, I have to hold them up to keep them from falling down.
I don’t care. I can’t remember the last time I felt so cozy.
“I’m done,” I murmur, letting him know it’s okay for him to turn around.
When Denver sees me wearing his clothes, his pupils widen ever so slightly. “They look good on you,” he says, his voice low and throaty. Heat rises to my cheeks. I do a little spin, like I’m giving him a fashion show. His full lips quirk in a smile.
He takes a step toward me, and my heart pounds in my chest.
Of course, he doesn’t make a move. He just takes some dry clothes from his pack for himself. He goes to the edge of the tarp to change, assuming I’ll turn my back to give him some privacy. But as he pulls his wet t-shirt over his head, I can’t tear my eyes away from his nude torso.
I knew Denver was ripped—his clothes couldn’t possibly conceal the swell of hard-earned muscle in his arms, chest, and back. What surprises me are the scars. They’re everywhere. Mostly, they look like old knife wounds, some long and thin, others short and thick, like a dagger was stabbed into his skin. I even spot a few round wounds that I feel sure are bullet holes. His body bears the marks of what he’s endured—what he’s survived.
I force myself to turn around, looking away before he can catch me gawking at him. He’s not like any man I’ve seen before. Tough and rugged, but with classically beautiful features. A lethal beauty.
Too bad he’s so cold. He doesn’t offer me another comforting word as we settle into our sleeping bags.
At the cave’s opening, I can see the rain still pummeling the ground. It looks like a damn monsoon outside. My thoughts turn to Camden and Memphis, out in the cold and rain, looking for herbs to help me. I expected them to be back by now. Any minute now, they should be wandering in, Camden flashing me a crooked smile, while Memphis scowls at everyone but me. A part of me already misses them, even though it’s unfair, considering my plan is still to run from them whenever I can figure out how.
Curling into a ball, I pull Denver’s sweatshirt closer around me. I love wearing Denver’s clothes, but I wish I’d taken something from the other guys’ packs, too. I’d feel safer drifting off to sleep if I had their scents with me. I hope they managed to find a warm place to hunker down for the night.
Sleep comes slowly, but eventually the rain lulls me to a restless sleep.