Chapter 8 Mo #2
Something in me stirs. I give him a small smile before I can stop myself.
Fuck. What am I doing? Feeling bad for my kidnappers?
Keep it together, Mo.
I mean Blue.
Dammit.
I refocus, watching their movements, studying their weak points. There’s always a way out. Always.
Darius steps closer, stopping right in front of me. His scent of pine, wood smoke, and pepper fills my nose. It makes my pulse race and my omega instincts surge, and I shove every last one of them down.
My wolf whines inside me. Fuck.
“Charmed,” I say. “Now that introductions are out of the way, how about we skip to the part where you untie me, and I walk out of here? Clearly, you’re all into bondage, and that’s just not my style.”
Elias gives a flat smile. “Not going to happen, sweetheart. You’re ours now.”
Rage ignites in my veins. “I belong to no one!” I snarl, straining against my bonds. The ropes cut deeper, and I use the pain to fuel my defiance.
“Stop rattling her,” Darius says. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”
They set the table and start bringing out food.
All of it steaming, all of it making my mouth water.
The scent of cooked meat and savoury spices hits me, and my stomach roars to life, churning with a hunger so desperate it almost hurts.
Three years. Three fucking years since I’ve been near anything that smelled this good.
Darius sets a platter piled high with sliced steak, golden potatoes, and glistening vegetables in the center of the table. The bastard catches me staring, my tongue practically hanging out.
“Blue,” he says, his voice deep and even. “Be a good omega and answer some questions, and you can have a plate.” He flashes a smile full of perfect white teeth. “Then a hot shower.”
I want to tell him to go fuck himself, but I’m so damn hungry that my resolve crumbles on contact. I give a curt nod.
Silas then unties one of my hands.
I stare at the plate, my mouth watering painfully. The aroma of seasoned meat wafts up, making my stomach clench. But I don’t touch it.
“What’s wrong, Blue? Not hungry?” Darius asks, cutting into his own steak.
I eye the food suspiciously. “What did you put in it?”
Elias laughs. “Paranoid little thing, aren’t you?”
My stomach betrays me with a loud, angry growl that seems to echo through the cabin. All four alphas stop eating and look at me.
“It’s not poisoned,” Archer says quietly.
“Right. You just want me drugged and compliant,” I snap, even as my fingers twitch with the urge to grab the fork.
Silas sets his fork down and reaches across the table. He pulls my plate toward him and takes a large bite of my steak. He chews slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving mine. Then he takes another bite of the potatoes and one more of the vegetables.
When he’s done, he slides his own untouched plate in front of me and returns my partially eaten one to his place.
“Satisfied?” Archer asks, studying me.
I don’t answer. I just tear into it. Juices drip down my chin as I shovel forkfuls into my mouth, barely chewing. Real meat, cooked with actual seasoning. Potatoes that are creamy, hot, and salted. My eyes are watering, and I don’t know if it’s from the heat of the food or something else entirely.
“Slow down,” Darius barks, yanking the plate away. I snarl at him, teeth bared. “You’ll make yourself sick eating that fast. Now, what’s your full name?”
“Bluebelle O’Reilly,” I mutter through gritted teeth. “Give me the plate back.”
He slides it over, and I force myself to eat slower, even though my stomach is screaming for more. “How long have you been out in those woods, Blue?”
“Three years,” I say around a mouthful of the creamiest mashed potatoes I’ve ever tasted. “Not that it’s any of your goddamn business.” I didn’t mean to answer him, but the food is so fucking delicious, I forgot where I was for a minute. I groan involuntarily.
“And why were you out there all alone?” His eyes bore into me, prying.
I clamp my mouth shut and glare at him, chewing furiously. He doesn’t get that answer. Not now, not ever. I’d rather starve than spill those secrets to this pack of entitled pricks.
The alpha pheromones thicken in the air around the table. Their eyes roam over my tattered clothes and unwashed skin. I can practically feel them sizing me up. But this omega bites back. And if Darius thinks he can break me with scraps of food and empty threats, he’s got another thing coming.
I take another bite and let out a moan that I couldn’t have stopped if I tried.
Fuck, this food is beyond good.
I finish my plate and lick it clean while all four of them stare at me, as if they’ve never seen a female eat before.
I hold Darius’s stare, refusing to back down.
I’ve faced worse than a few overconfident alphas.
When I move on to Archer, there’s something in his eyes.
Not pity. Not hunger. Something steadier than that.
Like he can see past the snarling and the cursing, right down to the girl underneath who hasn’t had a real meal or a kind word in three years.
I look away first.
And I hate myself for it.