35. Candice
Chapter 35
F uck, my head hurts.
My face hurts .
My eyes feel crusted shut, and I am so fucking tired. I try to reach up to wipe the gunk out of my eyes, but my hands won’t move more than a fraction, and pulling on them just hurts.
Alarm bells ring in my mind.
What the fuck was I doing?
I was waiting…with Jacks, we needed to get the back door fixed. He was packing up my clothes and my nest stuff so I could move in with them after my heat this week. I was almost done in the office, taking drawings and stuff off the wall and wrapping them for protection.
The doorbell and a familiar face, but he said he was with the glass company, Seth Thompson. Jacks was going to attack him, but I don’t want him to go to jail for attacking some random guy. I need Jacks–the whole pack–to be there for my heat, and afterward, I just need them.
The guy lashed out…he hurt Jacks and I tried to help him, but…
That motherfucker.
I remember him knocking Jacks down. Then me when I tried to help. Everything was black until he was dragging me out. Hitting the pavement woke me up, at least a little. There was fire, and I could hear sirens.
That fucking fuck knocked out my alpha and set my goddamned house on fire.
I am gonna fuckin’ kill him.
I pull harder on my hands while forcing my lids open, I need to see where I am. I need to see if Jacks is–where is Jacks? He was with me in the house…fuck…the fire. Did he set the fire while Jacks was still in there?
Panic robs me of my breath, and I flop around, trying to dislodge whatever the hell has my hands. It does no good, they’re stuck tight and not moving. I look around the room, maybe if I can get loose I can call Gabe, he’s part of the fire department, he can go get Jacks. I twist and flail, trying to get loose, but it’s dark outside now…no…it was only just afternoon. I can’t…Jacks.
A broken sob scrapes my throat, and I lay there wallowing. All the fight draining out of me as the train of anxiety plows me under, filling my mind with thoughts of what might have happened. How the others will blame me for him getting hurt or killed. How even if he is somehow alive, he won’t want me because I got him hurt. Before long I am curled in on myself, shaking uncontrollably.
I’m all alone, no one will want me, and no one is going to help me. I take a deep breath, then another, trying to center myself.
I can’t very well check up on Jacks, or apologize for getting him hurt if I’m locked up. Ok, think logically. My eyes are sore as I try to keep them open enough to look around the room. I am on a bed; my hands are behind me, hard plastic cutting into my wrists. So, probably zip ties. I know grandpa had me take self-defense classes in high school, but my mind is blank on getting out of something like this. There isn’t enough slack to twist them. And all those movies that show someone tucking their bound arms under their feet with their legs curled against their chest. Total bullshit, boobs do not allow you to bring your knees up to your chest…and I don’t think I could be that flexible anyway.
The bed I’m on really is plush. A small omega part of my mind keeps telling me that this is a nice soft blanket, and I should stay here and burrow under it. Clearly, my omega has shit for self-preservation skills.
Well, we’re not going anywhere until the room stops spinning, so just lay back, close your eyes, and try to save your energy. With your heat coming up, we want to be well-rested.
Fuck…So, I’m on even more of a time crunch. Shit.
But the snarky little voice is right, I won’t be able to do anything in my present state, so I better rest up. I close my eyes, focusing on anything other than my already spotty vision. Mostly I smell smoke.
Probably from where this asshole burned down my fucking house.
Also dust… and something else. Something subtle, and rancid, like old grease that’s been left to curdle. The smell makes bile rise in my throat, and I open my eyes again, trying to get some other sensory input to drive out that putrid smell.
Once I can stop focusing on that, I close my eyes again and listen. I hear boards creaking, someone is moving close by, and muffled voices, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. The creaking gets louder and then fades away again. I don’t know how long this lasts, before I nod off again, my body trying to preserve energy for a heat that I really don’t want to go through now.
Not without my guys.
I wake up again to someone running a damp cloth down my face. My jaw and head are still throbbing, and I wince when the cool cloth drags over an open scrape on my chin. More details are coming back to me. That guy who works in Gabe’s garage. I only met him a couple of times .
What was his name?
That asshole knocked out Jacks, and me.
I am so cutting off his fucking dick.
My eyes pop open in shock as my head is tilted and an ice pack is pressed underneath it.
“Now, now, Candy, don’t jerk around, you’re going to hurt yourself.” The condescending tone would make me grind my jaw if it didn’t hurt so badly already.
“I am already very upset at how events transpired. What were you doing with that alpha in your house?" His hand that was adjusting the ice pack tangles in my hair and the pull on my sore scalp draws an involuntary yelp from my throat.
“Nobody but you and I should be in that house. Nobody! But not only did you let an alpha in to fix your locks a few weeks ago, but all of pack fucking Asher? Did you think I wouldn’t find out? That you could just slut around and it would be fine with me?"
Clearly somebody’s been eating their Crazy-O’s this morning.
What the fuck?
The hand in my hair pulls tighter, tilting my head back and straining my neck. The face suddenly staring back at me is crazy. He looks nothing like the laid back guy I’ve seen in passing at the garage. His eyes are wide and bloodshot; his hair looks less greasy, but it’s a tangled nest where it looks like he’s run his fingers through it repeatedly. Gone is the easy smile, replaced with a snarl and spit flies as he screams in my face .
“Did they fuck you? Slutty little omega, had to go and fuck an alpha! Did you let them knot you, mark you?!" He shakes the hand holding my hair and my head snaps to the side. I can’t stop the whimper that comes out, and suddenly his features shift to contrite.
“Oh, Oh, no, Candy, I’m sorry." He doesn’t look sorry…not his eyes. “You just make me so mad, being a little slut. All omegas are, but, I was hoping you were different."
“It’s ok, though."
“Shhhh shhh, now. It’s ok. We’ll work past this.”
He finally lets go of my hair, and hooks his hands under my arms, pulling me up the bed until my head rests against the pillows. He reaches up, smoothing his own hair back, and then pulls the bottom of his shirt down to straighten it.
“Trey…” All I can manage is a raspy croak; my throat wants to close up at the sheer insanity staring down at me.
“Seth. Seth Thompson, with Thompson glass. Trey is my middle name. Though, you probably know me best as Wishbone.”
The world tips, spins, and I have to bite my tongue hard enough to taste blood. I really don’t want to pass out around this crazy asshole. This creepy fuck who’s been following me online for at least a few years now, buying commissions and offering to send me money to help when unexpected expenses happen.
“You didn’t answer my question, Candy. Did you take all their knots?" And I’m relieved that I can shake my head no .
Technically I was only knotted by Gabe and Jacks. I’m seriously worried about what he’ll do to me if he gets any angrier. He raises an eyebrow, skeptical of my answer.
“Did you let them mark you?" Again, I shake my head no.
“You know I’m going to have to check, right?" He yanks hard on the collar of my shirt and the top buttons fly off, exposing my throat and the straps of my bra.
“Hmm…nothing here, but alphas can be sneaky bastards." He yanks again and the rest of the buttons disappear, my shirt gapes open revealing my breasts and stomach.
He pushes it off my shoulders, grabbing me by the nape of my neck and tilting me up so he can try to push it the rest of the way down, until it’s bunched around my wrists. His hands run over my shoulders, down my arms.
“Sneaky, sneaky alphas." He mumbles under his breath, as his hands continue to stroke my skin. He pushes me over, hands on my back, fiddling with my bra clasp, and I cringe and twist. I already feel like my skin is crawling, and so far all my bits have stayed covered. If he goes any further I won’t be able to stay chill.
“You won’t be able to get it off…it’ll just get stuck on my arms too. If you unhook my arms I can take the bra off for you.”
Please don’t agree to that–I am trying to sound reasonable, but my gorge rises just offering to help.
His hands pull away, rolling me over onto my back again, and he looks at my face, trying to determine if this is a trick.
“No, no I can check later…they didn’t leave any obvious bond marks." His gaze tracks down my torso, hungry eyes lingering on my breasts, and I am glad I am wearing a full coverage white old lady bra. I don’t need to give this sick fuck any more ideas.
“We’ll need to get you on a diet though; I want to make sure my omega stays fit and attractive." He lightly pokes at my belly squish, and it takes all my willpower not to glare. But, you lure more flies with honey than vinegar, so I clench my teeth and try not to react.
“Of course, Seth, I want to look good for you." I watch him from under my lashes, trying to hide how much I really want to just kick the shit out of him. He’s momentarily shocked, but quickly recovers.
“That’s a good little omega." And he pats me on top of the head. I cringe at both his touch, and his repeating the same nickname that Gabe uses. But when Gabe uses it, it sounds like praise. This fucker just sounds patronizing.
“I’ll get my chef to fix up some brown rice with chicken and broccoli, doesn’t that sound yummy?" He strokes my hair this time, like I’m some kind of pet.
“Thank you, Seth.” I grind out, trying not to gag over how much he preens at my docile act.
“There we go, now, would you like a hot shower? Get you all cleaned up so you can snuggle into your nest like a good omega. We need to make sure you’re comfortable before your heat hits."
Two thoughts wash over me, one right after the other, and I’m thankful he is already turning towards the door, because I can’t maintain this mask .
First of all, I am not getting naked and taking a shower around this creep…second, how the fuck does he know when my heat is supposed to hit?