CHAPTER 7 JARED
Present day
I wake at the first pale light of dawn and immediately know my heat is over.
My whole body feels strange, as though I'm wearing someone else's skin, one that itches beneath the surface and simply doesn't feel right.
I roll across the bed, instinctively searching for the green fae, but he's nowhere to be found.
I feel the change in my mind just as sharply. The sweet haze of pleasure, that unreal dreamlike state where nothing mattered except my own bliss, vanishes all at once, and reality crashes back into me with terrifying clarity.
Fuck. Fuck!
Tommy, Alex!
I've been gone for three days without a single sign of life. What must Alex be thinking by now? Has he gone to Storm already… or maybe even to the police?
My stomach twists into knots. How could I have forgotten about them? How could I have surrendered to wave after wave of carefree pleasure while the people who cared about me were probably convinced something terrible had happened?
I jerk upright, but the instant I straighten, the room spins so violently that I have to catch myself on the edge of the bed or I'd hit the floor.
It takes a minute or so before the dizziness eases enough for me to stand, and with shaky steps I make my way to the bathroom, rinsing myself with trembling hands to wash away every trace of my heat scent.
The shower helps clear my head a little and gives me some strength back, but I'm still trembling convulsively as I pull on the clothes I found in the mysterious ranger's wardrobe.
I know I can't stay here, even though I'm painfully aware I've entered the next stage, the dreaded heat recovery, which always leaves me feeling terribly weak. Still, I have to get back to civilization, find a phone, find someone who can help.
Closing the cabin door behind me, I head in what I believe is the direction I originally came from, suspecting that I'll have to climb the slope again, and I'm in no condition for it.
Normally I'd probably jog uphill without much trouble, but that's out of the question now.
I'm barely walking, practically dragging my feet, my head swimming so badly that every now and then I have to stop and lean against a tree, somehow drawing a little strength from it.
If I were home, I'd be curled up in bed with a mug of coffee or tea, counting the hours until this miserable feeling passed, but I don't have that luxury now.
Pushing through the brush, I finally reach the slope.
Damn, it looks much longer than before, though that's probably just an illusion.
With a weary sigh I begin climbing, my boots slipping every few steps as I awkwardly grab branches for support.
I'm panting hard, landing on my ass more than once while cursing under my breath, but thankfully the climb isn't especially steep.
Eventually I reach the top, breathing heavily like a racehorse as I scan the area around me.
To my astonishment, I spot my gun lying on the ground. Apparently it flew out of my hand the moment I fell, before I rolled farther down the hillside. I pick it up, feeling like an idiot, but at the same time strangely relieved.
At least now I'll have a way to defend myself if I run into some dangerous alpha. I tuck it into my backpack and continue on. From here I know roughly how to get back… or at least I think I remember the general direction.
Unfortunately, my condition is affecting my mind just as much as my body.
Every hundred feet or so I have to stop again, leaning against another tree to rest. There are moments when I'm convinced I'm about to collapse onto the forest floor and either fall asleep or black out completely, but somehow I keep moving, all the while convinced I'm heading the right way.
Fifteen minutes pass, then thirty, then forty, and by then I'm exhausted and absolutely certain I've made a wrong turn somewhere.
Last time it took me maybe half an hour to reach the slope, and now I've already gone longer than that.
Something's definitely wrong. Worse yet, I haven't even crossed the forest road I drove in on.
I have no idea where Storm's car is anymore, which means I could be wandering through a completely different part of the forest.
Then I notice something oddly familiar attached to a tree. A swallow's nest… no, wait.
A camera.
Wow. Who puts surveillance cameras this deep in the woods?
Maybe forest rangers use them to monitor wildlife. You can find livestreams of eagle nests or deer feeding stations online all the time.
But after walking a little farther, I spot another camera mounted high in another tree. Why are there so many of them?
Strange. I desperately try to make sense of it, to dig some useful explanation out of my sluggish brain, but nothing comes.
Goddamn this heat recovery. All I want to do is lie down somewhere and take a nap.
Swearing under my breath, I wonder if I should turn back and retrace my own footsteps.
Then, from somewhere far away, I hear a sound that immediately catches my attention.
It sounds like an axe striking wood, the unmistakable rhythm you'd hear near a logging site.
I start moving toward it despite knowing that running into a crew of alpha lumberjacks is far from ideal, maybe even dangerous.
Still, I figure I can stay hidden and watch from a distance, see which direction they leave, or maybe spot one of their trucks.
I continue that way as carefully as I can, and before long the forest begins to thin around me. About a hundred yards ahead, I can clearly see daylight filtering through the trees.
The sight pours new strength into my spent body.
My heart is pounding and my vision keeps blurring at the edges, but somehow I make it to the forest's border.
Not a moment too soon, because I'm so drained by then that, for what feels like the umpteenth time, I wind up resting my forehead against a tree as I struggle to catch my breath.
The tree line gives way to a tall, elegant stone wall.
Luckily, I spot a fallen tree trunk and step onto it to peer over the top.
Beyond the wall stretches a lush, naturalistic garden, with winding paths cutting through the greenery and a broad strip of lawn farther back.
Farther still, I can make out another cluster of dense shrubs, many of them evergreen, surrounding an enormous building that is only partially visible through the foliage.
I stare for a moment, taking it all in. The garden is beautifully landscaped, but in a way that feels almost wild, without perfectly trimmed hedges or rigid rows of shrubs.
Everything seems carefully planned, yet nothing appears overly manicured.
And the mansion itself looks less like an ordinary house and more like some grand estate hidden away in the woods.
Thank Fate… I made it back to civilization. The relief that floods through me is almost overwhelming.
Now, somehow, I have to get over the wall.
The fallen tree gives me just enough of a foothold.
Gripping the upper edge with trembling hands, I haul myself up, struggling to pull my body over.
It takes everything I have, and I nearly fall, but eventually I manage to get over it and collapse onto the grass.
I lie there for a long moment like a corpse, staring up at the sky while fighting off waves of nausea.
What I'm doing is practically pushing my own body past its limits, violating it, when all it desperately wants is a quiet heat recovery, but what other choice do I have?
After a moment, I force myself back onto my feet.
Bent over like some homeless drifter, I start making my way through the garden, around the building, assuming the main entrance must face the road.
Sure enough, after cutting a wide circle through the dense, wooded vegetation, I come across a stone path, and just beyond it, a broad driveway leading straight up to the mansion.
My vision blurs, and at moments even darkens. I need to ask for help as quickly as possible, or at the very least borrow someone's phone so I can call Alex.
Making my way toward the front door, I finally have a chance to really take in the residence itself, without the green curtain of bushes.
It's exceptionally beautiful, built from massive timber logs, yet it's no simple log cabin. The place has two stories and two broad wings, combining heavy stonework with traditional wooden construction in a way that looks rustic yet elegant. It’s very much the style I love.
Unsteady on my feet, I climb the few stone steps leading to the entrance and knock, realizing it's probably only around seven in the morning. Whoever lives here may still be asleep.
Silence greets me at first, then I hear footsteps approaching.
The door slowly opens.
My gaze falls on an omega in his sixties, with a face that must have drawn plenty of attention from alphas in his younger days, and he still has remarkably elegant, refined features.
His eyes are brown-gold, and his short black hair is heavily streaked with silver.
Thin, gold-rimmed glasses rest on his Roman nose.
He's of average height and build, perhaps carrying a few extra pounds, but it looks good on him.
He's dressed in a warm white turtleneck and dark corduroy pants.
He stares at me through the magnifying lenses of his glasses, his eyes widened in surprise.
I clear my throat. "Good morning. I'd like to ask for your help. My phone got soaked while I was lost in the forest, and I desperately need to contact my family. Would it be possible for me to make a quick call?"
The omega continues staring at me for another moment as if he's seeing a ghost. Then he finally says in a polite but careful tone, "Please wait here for a moment."