Chapter 9
SELENE
When Harry leaves that night for work, I’m loath to see him go. It’s always lonely when he’s absent, even though I wonder now if it’s just as lonely when he’s home. I regret how I behaved when he brought out the glass phallus, and it’s hard to even look him in the eye.
I try to fill the hours with teaching myself to read again. I recognize enough that I can put letters together into words, but it takes ages just to get through a single page, sounding out each word as I go.
A good enough way to occupy my time, I suppose.
After I’ve read a couple of pages about the adventures of a maritime explorer, I’m too tired to keep going, and I drop the book over the edge of my nest. I spent some time earlier remaking it after our activities, but it’s still not right.
Something is missing, inside and out. It’s not big enough, not soft enough, not… something enough.
I wish I understood.
Father knew things, things he wouldn’t tell me. All I came away believing is that I’m dangerous, and Harry made a grave mistake bringing me onto his doorstep. It’s as if I can feel the eyes of alphas all around the house, peering in and looking for me.
I fall asleep aching between my thighs, wishing Harry were here. When I wake up, it’s to the sound of scrabbling at the front door.
“Harry?” I call out. It’s dark through the window, so he should still be working. The scrabbling continues, and it must be an animal of some sort, because I’m certain that Harry locked it when he left.
But then, the noise stops, and the knob turns.
I grab the closest pillow and pull it toward me, as if I can hide under it. The door slowly pushes open, and a hand retreats. Someone must have picked the lock.
What do I do? There’s nowhere to run in this room.
I could hide in the closet, or perhaps under the bed.
It’s the first thought to enter my mind, and so it’s the first thing I do, crawling over the edge of my nest as the door opens.
Then I slip into the closet, leaving the door ajar so it doesn’t look suspicious.
A heavy boot lands on the floor. Then another boot, and my heart thunders in my chest. Who’s breaking into Harry’s home? Do they know I’m here?
Is that why they’re here?
I try to keep my breathing even and quiet despite my lungs desperately craving air.
Whoever has come into the house closes the door, then the boots continue across the floor toward the kitchen.
Maybe I could run for it—but I would have to leave the bedroom and cross the main room without being seen, then open the door and take off into the night, knowing I might be pursued.
The boots pause, then continue, growing closer to the bedroom door. I squeeze my hands together to stop them from trembling, worried this invader will be able to hear my labored breathing, my shivering body against the wall of the closet.
Footsteps continue closer, and closer, coming inside the room. I can see the soles under the door of the closet, and I try to will down my panic. They won’t find me in here. It’s dark. Surely—
One of the lamps is lit.
“Little omega,” a husky, masculine voice calls out. “I can smell you in here.”
It takes all of my willpower to hold back a whimper. How does he know? I cram myself deeper into the closet, hoping the shadow of the door will hide me. The boots continue to the bed.
“Pretty nest.” The voice is even closer now. “Perfect for knotting. And breeding. For filling you up and making you feel aaaaaall better.”
Now I understand. An alpha. He found me after all.
The boots continue to the edge of the door, and a head peers around it. He has a big nose, thin lips, and eyes hidden by the shadow of his brow. He smiles the moment his gaze lands on me.
He lunges, and I let out a shrill scream.
HAROLD
My night is tedious because all I want is to get back to Selene.
Not only does it itch right at the base of my cock, but that sensation of dread is growing.
Am I merely afraid of losing her? Of knowing that soon, what I’m offering may not be enough for her, and we’ll have to get outside help if she can’t make it through?
That certainly weighs on my conscience. But the idea of anyone else putting their hands on her, on satisfying her, fills me with something new and frightening:
Rage.
Some people get angry first. But anger rarely solves problems, as my mother always taught me. If you want to fix what’s wrong, keeping a level head is the best way to start. So I ought to explore all of our options before I give up on Selene.
I’m walking the road that passes through town, about a mile away, when a massive wave of fear hits me. It almost bowls me over with its power, as if I’ve been struck by lightning. It fills my body, sending my pulse roaring.
I spin around, hand on my musket, looking for what sound might have startled me. But there’s nothing around save for the moon high overhead. Still, that horrible fear pounds in my chest, making my head spin.
Something is wrong, but I don’t know what. Immediately, I jog back down the road toward town. I need to go check on Selene. I need to know she’s all right, even if it means walking off the job.
Only moments later, the terror washes over me again, and I have to pause because it almost sends me to my knees. I breathe through it, my vision swimming.
What is happening? It doesn’t feel like my own terror. It’s sharper, whiter, soul-deep. Could it be Selene?
Fueled by that horrendous thought, I pick up my pace, sprinting through a field as a shortcut home. She must be in danger—that’s all this could mean. How I know, I couldn’t say, but my gut can tell something is very wrong.
I’m gasping for air by the time I reach the lane that leads to the house, and the muscles in my legs are burning. I race down the road anyway, turning when I reach my familiar row of hedges.
Bile rises in my throat when I see the front door hanging open.
No. Please, no.
I rush inside the house as fast as I can move, but it’s already much too late. One of the chairs at the table is on its back. In the bedroom, the nest is out of sorts, and the bedside table is knocked over. Blankets are sprawled from the bed onto the floor.
“Selene!” I shout, knowing already that it’s useless. She’s gone. If she were in this house, she would be right here.
Someone has taken her.
But how? How did anyone know she was here?
And where the hell did they go?
Selene’s scent still lingers in the house, and my chest aches. How could I have let something happen to her?
I walk back out onto the path that leads to the lane, and the smell of orange blossoms follows me. Shutting my eyes, I beg for anyone to show me where she’s gone. To tell me how to find her and bring her home again.
Sucking in a breath of Selene, I focus, hoping to calm myself enough to think of a solution.
I felt her fear when she was taken, and all I can think about is the ever-present terror that still lingers. She’s alive, if the painful ache in my gut is to be believed. She is well enough to feel, and that, at least, is a good sign.
Selene. I’ve been trying to keep my own emotions at bay, but thinking of her soft, innocent face, my hatred of whoever has hurt her grows. How could someone do this to her, when she has never done anything to anyone else but try to survive?
I want to scream her name. Fury builds inside me, boiling. I’ve never felt a seething anger such as this, as the one I feel for the nameless person who’s stolen her.
She is mine.
Her scent in the air hasn’t faded, and when that certainty settles on me—that Selene belongs with me—I know what to do.
I start off toward the lane, inhaling the air, breathing in my sweet omega. There it is. When I reach the intersection, it leads me to the left, so I follow it.
Down the lane toward the main road it goes, and even though I’m sweating and sore already, I move as fast as I can after it. Though the tender scent grows weaker, it’s still there, and if I focus on it, I’m sure it will lead me where I need to go.
It takes me around the edge of town, which is dark and would be easy to travel without being seen.
Here, Selene’s smell fades even more, but I can easily pick it out from among the other smells around me.
It’s as if everything has grown in intensity, from the scent of cooking onions in a distant home to the fresh smell of pine trees.
My vision, too, is even better than before, and neither the night nor the shadows offer protection from my searching.
I will find her. Whatever it takes, my escalating fury says, we will get her back.
The scent leads me down a forested road, then turns right at a fork.
I haven’t been out this way since I changed rotations, but a few homes are scattered here among the trees.
And Selene’s smell grows more powerful with every step I take, fueling me on despite the ache in my muscles.
It’s as if I get a second wind, my lungs bringing in more air, my legs still strong and sure despite the miles I’ve already put behind me.
My pace quickens as I race down the path and around a massive tree, where I catch sight of a house. It’s older than mine, set back far in the woods and hidden from prying eyes, with timber walls and a steeply sloped roof. The scent of Selene is even stronger, and I know I’m at the right place.
Rage swells inside me. Whoever stole her, whoever has hurt her, is here.
That’s when I feel it: a sudden surge of panic. Panic of an overwhelming sort, that makes me nearly buckle over where I stand.
Selene is in trouble, and I can’t waste another moment. So I thunder up the stairs to the front door and yank on the knob—but it doesn’t give. It’s locked.
No. I refuse to let this stop me. I will not let this get in my way. My hatred and anger and fear rise together, and with another yank, I pull on the door as hard as I possibly can, putting all the strength I have behind it. My muscles swell…
And the door rips off the hinges with a metallic snap.
I throw it aside, not even registering that I’ve done it. The door is meaningless to me if Selene is in this house. I will tear it apart from the inside out to make sure she’s safe.