Chapter 24 Cooper, Boone, Wade, Wyatt, Levi #4
But the rest of me, the Alpha fighting the first stages of ferality, the primal creature now responding to her intoxicating scent, the man who'd willingly submitted to bloodwork and scent testing, couldn't bring myself to let her go.
The knowledge that I was no better than those drunk Alphas she'd encountered sat heavy in my gut.
"I understand you're not afraid," I finally said, my voice emerging rougher than intended. "But there are practical concerns. No neighbors for miles. Temperature drops at night. Terrain that's disorienting even for locals without daylight.”
"Wade's right," Wyatt added. "It's not about keeping you prisoner. It's about keeping you alive."
A bitter laugh sounded through the door. "Right. Because you care so much about my wellbeing. That's why you bought me like a breeding cow."
Her words struck like physical blows. Accurate ones.
“We couldn’t buy something—” I stopped myself from finishing with ‘that wasn’t for sale’.
I had a feeling that would light a bonfire none of us could douse.
And, even if she had signed a contract to mate, it didn’t mean she could predict her feelings once matched to a pack.
She could change her mind. Every person had that right.
"You couldn’t buy something that what?" she challenged.
Wyatt ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the gesture. "We can talk about this in the morning. When you've had some rest."
"I don't want to talk about it in the morning! I don't want to talk about it ever! I want to leave!"
Another impact against the door, this one sounding more like a kick than a punch.
The wood vibrated with her fury, and a fresh wave of her scent washed over me, still tainted with the sharp edge of anger and fear.
My fingers tingled with the need to reach out and soothe her.
To reach out and claim her. I pressed my knuckles hard against my nose, trying to block the overwhelming pull of her.
"Please," I said, the word emerging more desperate than I intended. "Just... try to get some sleep. Things will seem clearer in daylight."
"Fuck your daylight," she snapped, but the pounding had stopped. "Fuck all of you."
Silence fell, broken only by the sound of footsteps retreating from the door. Moving back to the bed, perhaps, or pacing the small confines of the room.
Wyatt placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. "You okay to finish your shift?"
I nodded, not trusting my voice. The truth was, I wasn't okay. None of this was okay. But I'd stay at my post, caught between duty to my pack and the growing certainty that we'd made a terrible mistake.
Wyatt.
The old grandfather clock in the living room chimed twice, its deep resonance echoing through our small house—2 AM.
Wade's shift was ending, mine beginning.
I found him outside her door, sitting with his head tilted back against the wall, eyes closed but clearly awake.
The tension in his jaw, the careful rhythm of his breathing told me everything I needed to know about how hard these two hours had been for him.
Her scent, even muted by sleep and the barrier of the door, filled the narrow hallway like invisible smoke, curling into every corner, seeping into the very wood of our home.
When Wade opened his eyes and saw me, relief and something like guilt flashed across his face—the same conflicted emotions churning in my own gut since the moment we'd first seen her on that airport tarmac, recently amplified by her pounding and shouts.
"Any more trouble?" I asked quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.
Wade shook his head, rising from the floor with the careful movements of someone trying not to make a sound. “I think she might be sleeping."
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak more than necessary. The less I opened my mouth, the less of her lingering scent I would taste on the air. It was a futile effort, of course. That gorgeous fucking woman had already invaded every sense I possessed.
"Get some rest," I told my twin, clapping him gently on the shoulder as we exchanged places.
Wade hesitated, looking at me with an unreadable expression. Used to be I always knew what he was thinking, and vice versa. Nowadays the mind reading didn’t work so well.
“Something wrong?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You know we got to let her go, right?” He looked away towards the door and back again. “We can’t force her to stay if she doesn’t want to, contract or no contract.”
“I know,” was all I could manage, gut feeling like it was full of stones.
Wade left without another word, leaving the uncomfortable truth behind to torture me.
I positioned myself directly opposite the room, stretching one leg across the narrow hallway so that my boot rested against the bottom of her door. Even if I fell asleep, I’d be alerted if she attempted to leave. I tossed one arm limply over my knee, settling in for my two-hour vigil.
I wasn't sure about anything anymore. Not since her scent had hit me like a freight train, rewiring circuits in my brain I hadn't known existed.
Not since I'd seen the purpling of her wounded wrists and realized what we'd become complicit in.
I breathed deeper, giving into the need, and letting her scent wash through me.
Even now, hours after her arrival, with a solid door between us, the effect was immediate and visceral.
The pure, undiluted essence of her flowed beneath the version adulterated by fear and fury.
Nelly.
My Omega.
Our Omega.
My body responded instantly, hardening in expectation of something I couldn’t yet have. A cool shower was what I needed, but that wasn’t possible now while I played watch dog.
I tried to focus on the distant lowing of cattle outside, on the occasional hoot of an owl hunting in the fields, and on the soft creak of the house as someone moved inside it.
But my senses betrayed me, tuning instead to the faint sounds coming from the room.
Box spring announcing shifts as she moved in her sleep.
The overhead fan whirring: she must have turned that on.
Once in a great while, she breathed heavily enough for me to hear.
My eyes drifted closed, pursuing memory instead of sleep. In my mind’s eye, I saw her again, standing in the distance. The Betas who’d hurt her were erased from the scene; the best I could do now. I should have torn them apart right then and there for harming Nelly.
The dress flowed over her curves.
Coils of copper-turned-gold trailed past her shoulders, and down her chest.
I’d known she was going to be the prettiest thing I’d ever seen.
But when she ripped away that hood, she’d still taken my breath away.
The Eros file had given us the abridged version of her life, saying she’d once been a principal ballerina in Tacoma, that she’d exceled in her craft at a young age, gaining recognition.
Before seeing her, Nelly Shaw was only bullet points without elaboration.
Line, after line, of clinical notation. Eros had offered so few details about her, sketching only a curving outline, that I hadn't been prepared for the reality of her.
Every movement she made flowed with unconscious grace that persisted even through her fury.
A fresh wave of heat burned through me, settling low and insistent.
I shifted uncomfortably against the hard floor, pulling my jeans away from my hardened dick, feeling disgusted with myself.
Here I was, guarding the door of a woman who'd been brought to us against her will, and all I could think about was how beautiful she'd looked in her anger, how her scent made me want to bury my face in her neck and breathe her in until I drowned in her.
What kind of man did that make me?
Not the kind of Alpha I'd been raised to be. My father had taught me that leadership meant responsibility, protection, service to those who depended on you. Not this primal hunger that made me want to claim an Omega who clearly wanted nothing to do with me or my pack.
Yet I couldn't deny the pull. I'd expected compatibility, attraction even, but not this bone-deep recognition that screamed ‘mine’ in a voice I barely recognized as my own.
And the hell of it was, her fierce personality only intensified the attraction.
The fire in her eyes when she'd told us she'd be gone the minute we turned our backs ripped off a scab, leaving me with a wound that wouldn’t ever heal.
I recognized a kindred spirit. I wanted to match her strength, to earn it, to be worthy of it.
I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, trying to physically push away these thoughts. This wasn't about me or what I wanted. This was about making right a situation that had started all wrong.
A soft murmur from the room snapped me out of my thoughts.
It was followed by the rustle of sheets, and the creak of the old bed.
Was she dreaming? Having nightmares? The urge to check on her, to open the door just enough to see her face in the moonlight filtering through the bedroom window, was nearly overwhelming.
I resisted, keeping my position on the floor, my boot still pressed against the door. I’d said we’d respect her privacy, and I damn well meant it. She deserved that much, meager as it was, after everything she’d been through.
Two hours. I just needed to maintain control for two hours. Then Levi would take over, and I could retreat to my room. I could bury my face in my pillow and try to remember who I was before Nelly’s scent rewrote my very DNA.
Whatever happened next, whatever she chose in the future, I knew one thing for certain: nothing on Sagebrush Ranch would ever be the same again.
Levi.
Four in the morning wasn’t a time of day any rational person was awake, but right now, none of us in this house were rational. We were all fighting the worst parts of ourselves, parts we’d never faced before, parts of us that desperately wanted to put desire over our duty to be humane.
Dammit.