Chapter 14 Mo
Mo
I’m wrapped in warmth. I try to move, but something holds me in place. Heavy, solid, alive. My eyes snap open.
A heavy arm drapes over my waist, and something hard presses against my lower back. Panic floods my system as I realize I’m being spooned by a large, muscular, and very naked male.
I shriek and kick backward with everything I have. My heel connects with something solid, and I’m rewarded with a grunt of pain.
“What the actual fuck?” I growl, twisting around and scrambling away so fast I nearly face-plant, legs tangled in the blanket. I yank it with me, wrapping it around myself because I’m naked too, courtesy of the shift, and there is no way in hell I’m giving this asshole a show.
Elias has the audacity to grin through his grimace of pain. “Morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?”
“Why were you—. How did we—” The questions stumble over each other on the way out. “Why were you fucking spooning me?” I snarl.
He stretches, slow and lazy, and what’s left of the blanket slides off him enough that I get an eyeful of exactly how happy he is to see me this morning.
And what the hell is that? Of course, the fucker who loves being strangled is pierced.
I look away.
“You passed out by the fire last night. I was just keeping you warm.”
“Touch me again,” I point at the grinning idiot, “and I’ll nail your balls to the wall and use them as coat hooks.”
His grin only widens, and he stretches again, completely unashamed of his nudity. “Your wolf insisted we cuddle. And between you and me…” He winks.
The audacity of this male.
“I much prefer choking to ball-nailing. But if that’s what gets you going, I’m open to negotiation.”
I grab the lamp from the bedside table.
He holds up his hands in surrender, finally looking a little concerned about the makeshift weapon in my grip. “Okay, okay! No touching. Got it.”
I set the lamp back down, but keep my glare firmly in place.
“For what it’s worth, your wolf was very affectionate. Practically demanded cuddles from all of us. Especially Silas.”
“My wolf can go fuck herself,” I snap, heat flooding my face.
I bolt for my room, slam the door, and press my back against it.
My chest heaves. What the hell is wrong with my wolf?
Doesn’t she remember that alphas are the enemy?
A few playful moments outside, fine, I can grant her that.
But spooning an alpha? Curling up against him like some docile little omega who’s found her forever home?
The shower doesn’t help. I scrub at my skin, trying to wash away the memory of his body against mine. The heat of him. The weight of his arm. The way my wolf had settled into him like she’d found exactly where she wanted to be and had no intention of leaving.
Then my hands catch on bare skin.
I freeze.
No wire.
My breath stutters as my fingers move, checking more carefully. Tenderness. Healing skin. The faint ache of what was done to me. But no wires.
The wires are gone.
My fingers probe the tender flesh again, trembling. Nothing but raw skin and healing scars where metal once tore me open from the inside.
Relief hits first, so hard my knees nearly give out. Then disbelief. Then rage.
Five years. Five fucking years of poison threading through me like a living parasite, eating me alive with every step, every movement, every breath. And now it’s gone.
My hand braces against the tile. Water runs over my face, mixing with whatever’s running out of my eyes, and I can’t tell the difference between the two. I don’t care.
I press both hands between my legs, feeling the absence of the wires.
My body is mine again. Not theirs. Mine.
And that’s when I realize I’m not chained.
No cuff on my wrist. No iron bolted to the wall—no locked door.
I could run.
I could bolt right now. I take a step out of the spray too fast, and the room tilts.
Shit.
My hand slaps against the wall to steady myself. My legs feel weak, my stomach hollow, my whole body still drained from the shift and everything that came before it. I could run now. And maybe make it ten feet before collapsing naked in the yard like an absolute dumbass.
Fine.
New plan.
Breakfast with my kidnappers. Figure out who’s watching me. Learn the compound, the exits, the routines. Eat their food until I’m strong enough to move. Then leave.
By the time I come out for breakfast, I’ve pulled myself mostly together, and I have a new strategy. But something is off.
The alphas’ scents are stronger than before. Richer. Thicker. They hit me the second I walk into the kitchen, and my skin tingles. My omega instincts are going haywire. I tighten my fists so hard my nails dig into my palms. I will not let them see what they do to me.
Meanwhile, my wolf is doing something inside my chest that can only be described as a celebration dance.
No. Absolutely not.
Archer greets me with a smile.
Archer. Smiling.
What fresh fuckery is this?
Silas pulls out a chair for me, his scarred face soft and expectant. The scrape of the legs against the wood floor is too loud, too sudden, and my whole body flinches back a step before I can stop it.
Silas freezes. His face crumples. The big alpha looks gutted, like I’ve reached into his chest and squeezed his heart.
“Sorry,” I say too fast. “It’s fine. The chair.”
What am I even apologizing for?
Yet the guilt hits me, anyway.
Stupid omega instincts.
Silas drops his gaze to the floor, shoulders hunching like he’s trying to make himself smaller. For such a massive guy, he suddenly looks vulnerable.
I sit down and try to focus on something else. Unfortunately, my eyes land on Elias.
He sits across the table wearing a lovesick grin, looking like he’s about to compose a sonnet or propose or some equally horrifying shit.
Only Darius seems normal, if you can call brooding at the far end of the table normal. His eyes meet mine for a second, then cut away as Archer brings me a plate piled with eggs and bacon.
“Here you go,” Archer says.
I grunt and start eating. It’s good. My stomach growls, and I hate my body for being so easily won over.
“How are you feeling?” Darius says, his eyes on me with a weight that makes me want to bare my teeth. Or bare my neck.
My shoulders tense and my gut churns.
Fuck. They know.
They know what was done to me. What was sewn into my body. Where it was sewn. I feel stripped bare and vulnerable in a way that makes me want to shift and run until there’s nothing left of me but distance.
“Fine,” I say, meeting his eyes.
Darius leans forward. “Who did this to you?”
My throat closes. No fucking way.
I grab a piece of toast and shove it in my mouth so I don’t have to answer.
“Dammit, Blue.” He exhales. “Whoever hurt you needs to pay. Tell me who it was.”
Something in my chest detonates. I get right up in his face, close enough to count his eyelashes.
“This is my anger,” I snarl. “My pain. My fucking problem to deal with. Not yours.”
His eyes flash. He grabs my wrist. Holds it. Not enough to bruise, but enough to keep me there. “You’re ours now. Which makes it our problem.”
I bare my teeth. “Like hell I am, you arrogant dumbfuck.”
I yank free and drop back into my chair, shovelling food into my mouth so I don’t cry again. I’ve used up my lifetime supply of tears in the last twenty-four hours.
Fuck, the food is good, though.
Archer clears his throat. “Blue, we’d like to show you around the compound today. Help you settle in.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why?”
He smiles.
Why the fuck is this idiot smiling again?
“Maybe if you see how we live, you’ll reconsider running.”
I snort. “Fat chance.”
Or maybe I’ll learn exactly where their weaknesses are. But I don’t say that part out loud.