Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
COLE
He doesn’t stay away for long.
He couldn’t, even if he wanted to.
The salt of her tears was so strong and terrible it almost brought him to his knees.
It wasn’t her fear that he scented. It was pure anguish, sour and dissonant against her delicious, addictive scent.
Something was wrong, something triggered her so badly that it had her pulling out of his arms and tugging at her sleeves nervously.
It’s the second time he’s caught her doing that.
She told him to leave.
He saw the walls form behind her eyes, felt the ice that hardened her heart even after she found her release against him.
As if he could ever truly leave her after that.
The first time he scented her, he was fucked .
But now, after tasting her, seeing the light that filled her eyes as she drowned in pleasure, he’s tied to her.
But he reluctantly drives away from her cabin, knowing that he still has business to attend to.
“You’re not in for a good time, John,” he announces, circling the man tied to the chair. “Especially since I’ve had such a shitty night.”
John, the foul smelling Alpha, whimpers against his gag.
The old slaughterhouse is fitting for his demise, since he treated his own daughters like cattle.
Cole loves it when they recognize him. When they remember him from the courthouse, thinking they got away with their crimes just because they had connections with the judge.
The justice system failed because John’s bank account talked.
And now he’s here before Cole, bound and gagged after a quick twenty-minute drive.
“You didn’t even notice the tracker on your car,” Cole chuckles as John’s eyes widen. “I don’t get it. Shouldn’t you be more self-aware? Sure, you got off, but wouldn’t you think there would still be a target on your back? That people still pay attention?”
Whimpers, tears, and groans escape John.
“I’ve had a really bad fucking night,” Cole continues. “And you’re the only one I can talk about it to, unfortunately.”
He pulls the pistol out from his jacket and aims it at the putrid-smelling Alpha.
“It’s not even cocked,” Cole chides, as John’s cries echo off the poorly lit slaughterhouse walls. “For fuck’s sake, it’s not that serious . ”
He repeats the words he knows John told his daughters. Based on the transcripts in the court room, the words that stayed with him long after the judge let him off. Giving him a harsh punishment would tarnish the man’s reputation, when he’s been nothing but an outstanding citizen, apparently.
John recognizes the phrase, and fat tears fall down his wrinkled, sunken in face.
Then the gun cocks with a click , and the older Alpha whines.
“See, now it’s serious,” Cole murmurs. “ Now you might die.”
Usually, Cole would laugh. He would delight in the adrenaline rush, knowing that he’s doing what others couldn’t do.
He can’t bring the dead back, but at least he can avenge them.
But all he can think about is Breana , and how John is just wasting his fucking time.
What made his Omega pull away so suddenly? What made her scent spike with sourness?
“I need some advice,” Cole admits. “Quickly, though.”
He kneels in front of the older man, keeping the gun trained on him. “Think really hard about this, John,” he whispers.
Bloodshot murky brown eyes meet his.
“Should I give her space?” he asks, pointing the barrel at his temple. “Do you think she needs time away from me so she can realize that we’re meant to be together? Does absence make the heart grow fonder and all that bullshit?”
John blinks rapidly and whimpers.
“Would it be better to just leave her alone, John? Do you think that’s the right thing to do? Hmm?”
The whimpers grow louder, and John pleads with his eyes, desperate to stay alive .
“Answer me, you fucking imbecile ,” Cole growls, slamming the barrel into the side of John’s temple.
John cries, then nods rapidly, an enthusiastic mmhmm sounding from behind his gag.
“Yes, then. Give her space?”
More resounding mmhmms.
Cole smiles and stands up, pointing the barrel at John’s forehead.
“Thank you. I knew I should do the opposite of what you told me to do.”
Then he pulls the trigger.
After cleaning up his mess, he heads back to Breana’s cabin, parking his car further away from her house.
He’s attuned to her scent now, after rubbing his own on her. He marked her, so no one else will dare try to claim her.
There must be something he missed about her during his research.
Something spooked her hours earlier, and he’s sure it wasn’t because of him.
He does another deep dive on her, using the same programs he uses when he researches his next kill.
Breanna’s an only child, and her father passed away when she was fourteen
Her degree is in journalism, which she completed in three years instead of four.
But that’s it.
Her electronic footprint is almost nonexistent, except for her articles.
She’s a talented writer; covering everything that happens in her tiny town, from baking contests to choir competitions.
He was captivated by the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her work at the restaurant. He could have listened to her go on for hours about what she does, and how she loves to tell other people’s stories.
Her heart is pure, and it makes him want to claim it more.
With a few emails and a couple of electronic password changes, his plans are set into place.
She’s not leaving this weekend.
The front door of her cabin is latched, but the back door on the wooden porch is infuriatingly easy to unlock.
“What if someone was stalking you, sweetheart?” he mutters to himself. “Anyone could just come in here.”
When he steps into the cabin, he’s met with her sweet scent, now merging with his.
Fuck.
It’s as if they’re already mated.
He’s up the stairs and into her bedroom in moments, transfixed as she rests underneath the pile of blankets and pillows, her face almost completely buried in the fabrics.
She built a nest.
She’s nesting for him.
It’s beautiful.
He told himself he would only stay for a moment, but he finds himself sitting at her desk again, staring at her sleeping form.
Her breaths are soft and gentle, but he can smell the salt of her tears from before.
It wrecks him.
She mumbles in her sleep and turns on her side, subconsciously facing him. The moonlight dances on her features, and he’s so in love with her he thinks his chest might burst.
He can’t leave. Not with the way her scent permeates the room. Not with how hard his cock is, desperate to spurt cum and claim her.
So, he does the next best thing to joining her in her nest .
He goes under the bed, breathing in her scent and listening to the soft cadence of her breathing.
She needs him to be near her, even if she doesn’t realize it.
He can soothe her, help her through her pain by being in her presence.
His theory is proven correct as her scent sweetens, and she shifts in her sleep.
She lets out a pleased hum and a content sigh.
Then he hears the rustling of fabrics shifting, and a pair of silky, soaked panties falls on the floor next to him.
A rush of sweetness hits him, the scent of her arousal washing over him.
He fights back a groan as her soft noises fill the room.
His Omega is touching herself.