Chapter 36
Timber
Leaving Marilyn’s office with a mix of nerves and annoyance, I’m already desperate as I whip out my phone. The panic of missing the chance to talk to Ollie again has taken me over. But I just can’t stop making excuses, even though I’ve already admitted I just want to see her.
I don’t know what the traffic is like. She could need help finding things because it had been so long since she’d left. Or she might get revenge for how I treated her by damaging stuff in the house.
I’d already watched her on the home security system enough that there’s probably no saving me, so what’s one more time?
As soon as I’m out of view of the glass walls of Marilyn’s office, I scramble to open the app because I need to see Ollie so badly that I can’t breathe.
The garage looks normal, nothing wrong with the hallway, but the second I change to the living room camera, I freeze.
I teeter at the top of the stairs that lead to the main entrance of the administration building, my heart in my throat as I quickly flick through the other cameras.
Corridors and other areas are fine, the garage is fine. I’ve had no alarms about break-ins, and there’s no sign of strange cars around the house.
So what the fuck is going on?
Fear pounds through my heart as I switch back to the living room, grabbing the banister to stop me losing my shit at the chaos that’s torn through the room like a whirlwind.
The coffee table is tipped over, pillows pulled from the couches, ornaments and vases shattered underneath their stands. Books lay scattered around the room, and blankets have been dragged across the floor.
Maybe Ollie really is getting revenge by trashing the place…
I go back to the kitchen camera, and there’s no way she’d throw pots and pans around the room, not even if she was angry.
The only other place that’s fucked is the stairs leading straight to our bedrooms.
I hurry to the main entrance as I rewind the footage for the living room, trying to work out what’s happened.
My heart is in my fucking throat as Ollie moves in reverse at 10x the speed, which makes it look like she’s cleaning, even though she keeps stumbling and dragging herself across the floor.
Panic chokes me as she vanishes off-screen toward the kitchen, and I pause it to jump to the kitchen camera.
The room is in the same state, with things dragged out of cupboards, cookbooks, dish towels, and cooking utensils scattered over the surfaces and tumbled everywhere. The fridge door stays open, with food tipped out onto the floor.
I surge through the main doors of the building when I hit rewind again. I can barely see where I’m going. I’m so focused on watching the screen that I don’t realize I’m already racing past the rink as she staggers around the kitchen at high speed.
My panic explodes into full-on fear. If she’s hurt, if I left her alone because I couldn’t handle seeing her, and something’s wrong…
Ollie suddenly disappears behind the counter, and I speed back to where she enters the kitchen.
My feet pound on the road as I sprint toward the parking lot five blocks. I can’t run and watch at the same time. I’m caught between my need to see what’s happening and find out if she’s safe, and the urge to get to my fucking truck.
I slow down, one eye on the sidewalk as I keep jogging. It’s the middle of the day, so I only have to dodge a few people as I bolt for one of the lots farthest from the fucking rink.
Just like that time I caught myself sleepwalking, I play it from the beginning. I don’t know if I’m panting from running, or from the fear that she’s hurt.
It looks normal enough. She’s gathering up the cooking materials she brought with her when she first moved in. I offered to buy her brand new things, but she said she’s happier with her ‘comforts’, as she called them.
Until she suddenly tips over with a silent yell as she vanishes behind the counter. I must have cleared the blocks, because I stop at the edge of the parking garage, pushing the phone to my face, trying to see where she’s gone as more pots roll away.
I can’t breathe as her hand appears from behind the counter, and she drags herself along the floor, clutching at her stomach.
The second I see her crying out in pain, I run.
I glance at the time stamp, and it was only twenty minutes ago.
My body is screaming, all sides of my messed-up personality telling me to get the fuck home and back to my omega.
I speed up the video, barely paying attention to where I’m going as I watch her.
Rushing between the hundreds of cars, I swear at myself for parking on the top floor. Though how the fuck was I supposed to know this would happen?
Speeding up the video again, I watch her drag herself off-screen into the living room, but I need to find out where she went next.
I flick to the camera on the stairs, and more blankets have been dragged up there, so I have to assume she’s going to her nest.
My muscles screaming, I finally spot my green car, and I pick up speed, running straight with my eyes fixed on my phone.
I switch to the live corridor camera, rewinding it with panic choking me, until she finally appears. My eyes widen as I press pause to see her fallen against the door of my bedroom with blankets and pillows in her arms.
“Fuck, no. What are you doing?” I gasp as I finally reach my car.
I press play just to watch her scrabble for the handle and drag herself inside.
The last thing I see is the end of a blanket as she disappears off-screen.
The camera in my bedroom is still on 24/7 because of the maple syrup pillow incident, and it’s the only place I haven’t looked.
I pull my car keys out of my pocket, and my thumb’s on the unlock button when I switch to my bedroom camera.
Gasping, they slip from my fingers, clattering to the ground by my feet.
I choke as I tip forward. My hand slams against the side of my car as a cry tears from me, my gaze on my phone.
Because my omega is there, she’s lying on my bed. But she isn’t cuddled up in my duvet like I imagined she would be.
My throat is dry as I watch her writhe on her knees in the center of my bed, with the ass I’ve been dreaming about up in the air.
Her cheek pressed into the duvet, facing the fucking camera as if she knows it’s there.
“Fuck!” I groan as she rocks her hips, the bed shaking along with her. Ollie’s mouth is open, with her eyes glazed over, and one of my shirts bunched in her fist.
I can almost feel her pleasure burning through me as I watch my omega rock against the dildo she’s fed between her legs.
I twist, my back thumping against the car as I clutch the phone with both hands. My legs give way, and I slide down onto the step bar, my back against the passenger side door as I watch her pleasuring herself on my bed.
There’s only the bedside lamp behind her lighting the room, so I can’t see properly, but I swear her mouth is moving, and I track her lips.
“Fucking hell!” I swear again as I realize she’s calling out for me with every thrust.
I have to move. I need to get in the car. I have to drive home, but I can’t stop watching her. I’m fucking entranced by how lost she looks as she gives into it.
Rage, need, pain, desire; they’re drowning out any sense of reason I have. I’m choking, clawing at my chest to stop it, but it’s too much.
My cock is so fucking hard, and the ringing in my ears grows louder. I can’t stop it coming.
If I just fucking move, I can reach her, but I’m frozen in awe as she slows down. Her ass shakes as she feds it into herself with slow precision, torturing herself as she chants my name.
“Please,” I whisper to her, urging her on, wishing she could hear me. “Ollie, you’re doing so well. Just give in.”
My head falls forward, and a snarl cracks from me, my mind blurring as I remember the way she called my name when I feasted on her. Her taste. Her touch. How she moaned and begged me to stop while asking me to never leave her.
But then her expression changes. She plunges the dildo in deep, and her mouth widens as she cries out. She’s coming, and I’m not with her, and I can’t fucking think because I need her.
My breaths grow faster, my heart rate skyrocketing. And there’s no stopping it.
One flash tears through my vision. A thud beats through my mind. And my alpha side takes over.
My rut hits me so hard that I fling my head back against my car and cry out as my body jolts.
I thrust my hips at nothing, moaning as I watch my omega pull the dildo from herself, furious that it’s not me.
I need to get up. I have to drive. I have to get back to her. I can’t leave her alone.
My omega needs me, and I have to find her and bite her and make her mine.