Salvation (Wild Heat)

Chapter 19 – C A M D E N

Despite the wildfireand the ruined tent, I’m having an amazing day. Hell, I’m practically whistling while we stroll through the forest. Memphis might be sulking ahead of me, but I refuse to let it ruin my good mood.

I love a challenge. It’s what made me so obsessed with beating my own record surviving in the wilderness. I didn’t go on Alone Extreme for the cash prize—I went to see how long I could make it by myself. I’d never dealt with insane cold and hunger like I did in the Alaskan wilderness. When the producers came to tell me I won, I almost wanted to ask them to leave me out there a little longer, just to see if I could make it another few weeks. There’s nothing that satisfies me more than facing an obstacle that feels impossible and knowing I overcame it.

Today, I’ve had plenty to satisfy me.

In under 24 hours, I’ve tracked a missing Omega, escaped a wildfire, and saved Memphis from death-by-spear. Frankly, I think I accomplished them all beautifully. I’m almost excited to see what we’re facing next. The rain’s getting progressively heavier, but it can’t kill my mood. Especially not after I got to knot Brooklyn today. She was so beautiful, so responsive underneath me.

Lost in my thoughts, I practically trip over the wild garlic before I even notice it. I’m supposed to be tracking down the herbs to calm down Brooklyn’s heat. Fuck, I can’t afford to be daydreaming when her safety’s at stake.

But I can’t help it.

While I pick the garlic, my head’s full of memories of how it felt to have Brooklyn underneath me. She was so beautiful, my tiny little Omega. She fit so perfectly around me, it’s like my cock was made just to fill her. I loved the feeling of her small body under mine, but watching her ride me was one of the most erotic things I’ve ever seen. Some primal part of me wanted to leave marks on her, love bites and bruised fingerprints. So anyone who saw her would know I’d been there first. Leaving no questions who she belonged to.

I’ve never come inside a woman before. We’ve always used condoms, even when my partner was on birth control. Fuck, it turns me on to think that even now, Brooklyn has my seed inside her. It’s like I’ve marked her—made her mine somehow. She might be with Denver, but she’s got my scent all over her.

My foot catches on a root, and I slam to the ground, hands and knees in the mud. Memphis only looks back to make sure I’m okay. When it’s clear my only ailment is clumsiness, he ignores me and strides forward. Clearly, his bad mood is still hanging over him.

I get to my feet and wipe my muddy hands on a mossy rock. I’m careful walking now, hoping to avoid another embarrassing fall. Every plant we pass, I identify it as quickly as I can, hoping I can find the remaining herbs on my list.

Finally, I find something I’m looking for. Score—a willow tree. I pull out my multitool so I can scrape off some of the bark. The tree’s old and huge, its thickly-leaved branches offering some respite from the rain.

“Come on in!” I call out to Memphis. “It’s pretty dry here, get a break from the rain.”

I carve off generous lengths of willow bark. We don’t know how long Brooklyn’s heat will keep going, and it’s better safe than sorry. When I’m satisfied, I turn away and finally get a good look at Memphis.

He’s in rough shape. His eyes are unfocused, strong hands trembling. His face is flushed, even after being doused in freezing rain. Under his cargo pants, I can see his hard cock pressing against the fabric.

After he knotted Brooklyn earlier today, he seemed calm. He clearly didn’t like leaving without her, but he took Denver’s orders well enough. But he’s got her scent all over him, and his body’s obviously going into a rut, being so far away. His Alpha instincts are demanding he take her, but she’s gone.

Fuck, I can’t bring Memphis back to Brooklyn like this. He was barely able to hold back with her before—next time he sees her, no way he’ll be able to fight his instincts. He’ll have her on the ground, his cock buried inside her before she can even speak. She might have welcomed his knot this morning, but if her heat’s over, she might not want to fuck him again.

I have to figure out how to help him hold off a rut. There are herbs, but there’s also the simplest option—help him relieve the tension myself. I’ve always said, the simplest option is usually the best.

“You don’t look so good,” I say gently. “I can tell, being away from her is hard.”

Memphis doesn’t bother denying it, but he still tries to minimize it. “It’s fine,” he says. “I can handle it.”

“Still. I could help you out, Memphis.” I take a step toward him, keeping my expression open. “It doesn’t have to mean anything—a mouth is a mouth. It might keep you from going into a rut.”

He glances sharply at me, but he doesn’t seem angry. “I couldn’t ask you to do that,” he says.

“You’re not asking, I’m offering.” I shrug. “I’ve done it before, a few times in college. I hear I’m pretty good at it. It’ll be better than your own hand and we both know that a hand doesn’t cut it for a rut.”

Memphis looks skeptical. Really, knotting an Omega is what we need if it gets that far, but this could stave it off a while longer. Make him a little more agreeable by the time we return to Denver and Brooklyn.

“No offense, Cam, but you’re not an Omega. You’re not what I’m craving right now. Besides, I’ve never…”

“But I smell like her.” It’s true—Brooklyn’s wildflower scent clings to my clothes, and I’ve been enjoying even the remnants of her all day. “Close your eyes. Pretend it’s her, not me.”

“I don’t know.” Memphis frowns, but his hand moves reflexively to press against his erection. I can tell he wants my mouth on his cock, but he’s never going to make the move. He’s got this distorted sense of honor holding him back. I might be the one going to my knees, but he needs me to take the lead.

I saunter right to him, our eyes glued to each other’s. He doesn’t look away when I reach between us to undo his belt. His rich brown eyes stay on me, egging me on. I’m a little rough when I force the button of his cargo pants open, unzipping them and shoving his pants and underwear down so his cock springs free. I only break our eye contact so I can check out what I’m working with.

Fuck, Memphis’s cock is a thing of beauty. It’s hard and girthy, with veins and ridges I want to trace with my tongue. As much as he’s denying his own desire, his body can’t lie about how it feels—his cock is fully hard for me.

He might never have been with another male before—Beta, Alpha, or Omega—but I could tell from the first moment I suggested it to him that he wasn’t turned off by the idea. In fact, he seemed intrigued by it.

I can work with intrigued.

I sink to my knees, so his cock is right at mouth level. I can’t help but lick my lips, watching his slit glisten with precum.

From my position below, I stare up at Memphis’s stubbled face. He’s got plenty of time to stop me if this isn’t what he wants. But he just closes his eyes, giving me permission.

My fingers wrap around him, holding him loosely while I try a few exploratory pumps. When I tighten my grip, a moan escapes him and I feel his thighs tremble. I move my hand up and down a few more times, holding tighter and tighter with each stroke. Memphis’s mouth falls open. Clearly, he likes a little roughness.

I can give him that, and more.

My fist stops at the base of his cock as I lick the underside, using the broad part of my tongue to take him in. He tastes musky and salty, and best of all, there are still remnants of Brooklyn’s slick on him. The combination of their tastes on my tongue makes my own cock rock hard.

All kinds of images are flooding into my head now. Me sucking Memphis off while Brooklyn sits on his face, screaming when she comes. Or Memphis and me passing her between us, each filling her sweet cunt with our seed. If the two of them would let me, I’d do just about anything to get them off.

When I finally close my lips around the tip of Memphis’s cock, I can’t stop my groan of satisfaction. I hollow my cheeks as I sink lower, pausing when I’ve got half of him in my mouth. The weight of him on my tongue has my own cock even harder. Memphis might be enduring me sucking him off just to avoid a rut, but I love it. It’s fucking sexy, sucking off this big, quiet guy. Trying to see if I can break his self-control.

Then, broad fingers sink into my hair. Memphis pulls tightly on the strands.

I moan. It’s the first sign that he’s enjoying this, too. I move my head again a few times, taking in more of him with every pass of my lips. Maybe he’s too big for me to fit the whole thing, but fuck if I’m not gonna try.

Memphis snaps his hips forward, pushing his cock to the back of my throat. Apparently, Memphis wants to pick up the pace. And I let him.

His pace is punishing, and he fucks my mouth like he’s feral for me. Feral to find his own release. The force of his desire is intense and all-consuming. I have to concentrate to keep my gag reflex under control while he pistons into me. Using me for his pleasure. A few tears stream down my face as I struggle to take him, and that just makes it hotter.

I reach down to grab my own erection. I’m just as hard as he is, and I moan around Memphis’s cock while I pump myself. I won’t be able to last long, the way he’s thrusting into me like he’ll die if he stops. His desire only drives my own higher. Nothing turns me on more than seeing my partner falling apart, and Memphis is so fucking close. He might keep his feelings under wraps most of the time, but during sex, he’s completely transparent. The fire burning inside him is undeniably blazing hot.

Soon, his thrusts get faster and shallower. I increase the speed of my fist, too, trying to match him. Any minute, we’ll both fall over the edge.

Memphis goes first.

He groans my name as he fills my mouth with his seed. I swallow every drop, licking my lips as he pulls away. Fuck, he tastes good, salty and musky, with the slightest aftertaste of the Omega we both took today.

Closing my eyes, I’m about to come myself when I feel a hot, masculine hand close over mine. Memphis guides my hand for the last few strokes. I come in spurts on the ground in front of me.

We both kneel for a few minutes, coming down from the stupidly intense moment we just shared. Finally, our breaths regulate. Drops of water fall through the willow branches, reminding us that this was a temporary respite. We still have to collect those herbs and find our way back to Brooklyn and Memphis.

Neither of us speaks as we get to our feet, and I follow Memphis back out into the rain.

Our last ingredientis the hardest to find. Glasswort does grow in Olympic National Park, but there’s no guarantee we’ll be able to find the kind of sandy soil where it thrives. Considering the visibility isn’t getting any better, I’m wondering whether we should just turn back and make do with what we have.

Then, for the first time all day, we get lucky. I pump my fist in victory when I spot the distinctive chubby green leaves of the glasswort. I crouch to pluck the thick plants from the sandy dirt. They come out easily, roots and leaves, and I shove them in my pack’s side pocket.

“That’s all we needed!” I call out to Memphis. “We can head back to the caves now.”

It’s not a moment too soon. The rain’s vicious now, pounding so hard that I wouldn’t be surprised if there was some hail mixed in. We’d be lost without Memphis’s tracking abilities. He’s able to retrace our steps at a solid clip, even though the slippery ground slows our pace.

I stop trying to anticipate how long the journey might take. Trusting Memphis, I follow him closely, focusing on staying upright as my boots clomp through mud. It takes hours before we reach the ridge where we started, and the sky’s almost completely dark by the time we cross to the one by the caves.

Then, things get complicated. There’s a long ravine between us and the caves, with a thick fallen log connecting the sides. I look over the edge, and see a rushing river below. I mentally position us on the map—this is usually a small, calm waterway. The rain has already flooded it, and I can see the whitewater of crashing waves on the rushing water below.

“They crossed here!” Memphis has to shout to be heard over the rain. He points to the other side of the ravine, where thick nylon rope is tied around a tree, the end cut off roughly with a knife. If it weren’t neon yellow, we’d never spot it through the rain. It’s way too clean to have been left there by anyone but Denver and Brooklyn.

“Think the log can hold us?” I yell.

“It held Denver!” he answers. The soldier weighs more than either of us. It probably means the crossing should be safe.

I’m taller than Memphis, but he probably weighs more from sheer muscle. I motion for him to go first—if the wood starts cracking now that it’s soaking wet, it’s better that the lighter one goes last.

Memphis looks ready to argue with me, but he swallows the words and gets up on the log. We don’t have time to waste here. He crawls, his movements quick and smooth as a panther’s. It feels interminable, watching him making that treacherous walk, but it must take him under a minute all told. Once he reaches the other side, he raises his hand, and it’s too rainy for me to make out whether he’s giving me a thumbs up or flipping me off. Either one’s understandable.

I climb on top of the log myself. I feel adrenaline pumping through my veins, and it makes me grin. I live for this shit—the thrill, the adventure, the challenge.

Memphis crawled, but I feel more secure standing. It reminds me of being a kid, my sisters showing me what they learned in gymnastics class on the playground out back. I was definitely the fastest on a balance beam.

Carefully crouched, I move forward in small, even steps. My boots have good grip, and I never slip. But halfway across, I hear a crack. My mind slows down, and a split second turns into an eternity of thoughts. Fuck—I hope it’s just lightning hitting a tree nearby, but there’s a tug in my gut. Instinct and gravity tell me the tree’s cracked. I leap forward, hoping I’ve got enough power to land on the other side, but it’s too late.

My body tumbles down, down, down. I grab at my backpack, the precious herbs I gathered first in my mind. Somehow, I picture a white rabbit, and I realize I’m remembering the Alice in Wonderland rabbit hole. A crazed laugh breaks through my mouth.

Down, down to the river below.

The last thing I hear before my body hits the water is Memphis calling my name.