Chapter 8 Mona
MAY
Seriously, I need a real shower. But the only thing I've come close to in the last few days is at a truck stop bathroom—something I'd have found disgusting pre-shift, but it's not like I've got options.
I mean, it's still gross, the smells alone make me gag, but I need to rinse off in water where there isn't a beaver upstream doing the same.
Beep indulges me, though, as I slip quarters into the vending machine for some soap, then pull out my meager belongings after locking the door. I'm sorry to admit I've added a few more pieces of stolen clothing to my makeshift bag.
Bracing myself, I take the tiny bottle of soap that smells strongly of antiseptic into the shower, then quickly wash my clothes and body. The water is freezing. The soap doesn't foam and I can already feel it drying out my skin. My senses hate it.
But when I'm done, I feel clean, and that outweighs all the discomfort.
I'm wringing the water from my t-shirt, spare pair of underwear, and yoga pants, draping the damp fabric over my bag when a sudden cramp twists through my abdomen.
My breath catches as I double over, one hand clutching my stomach.
Inhaling deeply, I wait for the pain to pass, but it leaves behind a strange heat pooling low in my belly.
Brushing it off, I gather my wet things, then stumble out of the bathroom, a little weak in the knees, my hot pink flip-flops slapping against the tile. Fishing through my bag, I find just enough change for a warm cup of coffee, so I head to the diner next door.
The coffee tastes like shit, yet is absolutely divine. I needed this warm coffee like I needed a sturdy pair of boots. It warms me bone-deep.
Months now on the road, never stopping long enough to rest, or to think, or hell, to grieve—my father, my old life—a simple cup of coffee, sitting in a diner, clean, with a few belongings, it feels like an anchor.
I've been a mess of indecision, trying to trust Beep. But everywhere we turn, with every wolf we encounter, my confidence that she knows what she's doing wavers.
We've been through a lot together. At first, she was like an annoying little sister who would not leave me alone, always there in my head. A GPS from hell. But once we learned how to work together, things got easier. We still argue. Nonstop some days. But I love her. And she loves me.
And she hates the taste of coffee, but she knows I need it, so she waits quietly while I sit in this booth and pay human money for burnt, bitter liquid. Until something inside me starts to churn again.
It begins like a cramp, like the one in the bathroom. A pain low in my belly. A wave of heat washes over me, my insides tingle and burn with need. I start sweating.
Slowly at first. But then, I'm dripping with it. My neck feels hot, my hair is sticking to my temples.
My core clenches with aching need, gnawing and empty. I squeeze my legs together while something pinches deep inside me. I let out a feral moan, right there in the diner. My shirt, still damp from cleaning it in the bathroom, feels heavy and horrible against my skin.
My omega whines. I've grown used to her by now, this primal being living inside me—but this instinct is new.
She wants to pull all the clothes from my bag and paw at them, arrange them just so.
She wants pillows and blankets and sheets and more clothes, to bury her face in layers of comfort and stick her ass in the air.
I lower my head to my hands and try to breathe through the chaos swirling inside my body and mind.
My omega needs cock. I fucking need it. Badly. I'm dripping between my legs. My pussy is too empty, spasming at nothing. What the fuck is happening to me?
I sit here like this, longer than I should, trying to figure out what is wrong with me. Beep keeps murmuring heat.
Yes, I feel fucking hot! I snap back.
She's getting frustrated, but I don't have the patience for her to explain in truncated sentences what's happening. Her worry increases the longer I sit here, the pain and lust growing more intense by the minute.
Long after I finish the coffee, the server looks at me with pity—my grimy, oversized clothes, clearly I'm a hot mess—and lets me stay without ordering anything else.
I need to come. That's all I can think about.
It starts small, until I find myself wiggling in my seat, shifting my hips trying to ease the ache. My clit is pulsing. I need to find a small, dark hole. I feel fucking insane.
Beep's instincts perk up.
Fuck.
It's happening again.
I was distracted, and it's the worst possible timing.
The bell above the entrance chimes as a pair of them push through the front door. Beep screams wolves!, and a second later, their gamey magical scent hits me hard. Coffee cup abandoned, I hurry through the busy interstate diner, trying to ignore the slippery wetness between my legs.
I burst through the back door, with the two on my tail, only to find myself face-to-face with a third man.
He snarls, face shifting, hands turning into claws as he grabs at me. He can barely contain himself, sucking in my scent like I'm his favorite meal.
"Get her in the truck," he rasps, voice thick.
"Help! Somebody help me!" I scream while they lift me and throw me into the backseat.
I shriek, beg them to stop, to let me go. Beep tries to calm me down. I want to shift, but she still takes forever, and we don't have that kind of time.
"God, I can barely hold myself back," the one beside me growls. His fingers dig into my shoulder, teeth scraping against my skin as he inhales my scent. I feel the wet heat of his tongue on my neck. "She smells so fucking good. Like honey and slick. I can't—oh fuck! I can barely hold it—"
My stomach turns with revulsion. I can feel their desire for me. There's a wildness to it, something frenzied, like they can't control themselves.
And still, the cramps, the need between my legs, continue.
"I need her, man. I'm so hard, it's—I can't hold off, man, I can't—"
I try to scream, to pull away, while the man beside me becomes incoherent, snapping his teeth, pawing at his crotch, while the big truck careens out of the parking lot, racing down the road.
Beep's voice steadies me. Wait until they reach the curve. Like a vision, she shows me what to do next. I'm too scared to overthink it. And when the truck rounds a corner, approaching a massive hill, I spring forward and yank on the steering wheel.
The truck flips.
I can't believe it. The wolves, frantic, try to grab at me, even as we roll down the mountain, bouncing within the cab.
Glass shatters around us, and before the truck settles, I'm squeezing through the broken rear windshield.
"Grab her!" one of them snarls. "She's getting away!"
It's the last thing I hear before I bolt.
I run because my life depends on it, when all I want to do is curl up in a ball and make the pain in my abdomen go away.
I run because my dignity depends on it. They can smell the need on me, the wetness between my legs. They're the most aggressive wolves I've ever encountered, somehow even more terrifying than the one who tried to kill me.
I run and run.
And still, they chase.
It's really not the time, but I debate sticking my hand between my legs to get some relief.
I've got this. I've got this! I swear silently, more to myself than to Beep. Panic tears at me, branches and tree limbs lashing out, smacking me in the face.
My lungs are burning, feet bleeding. The cramp in my abdomen is nearly unbearable. I hop on one foot, nearly tripping when I step on a sharp rock, which slows me down, but I bury the scream in my throat, shake it off and keep running.
I can hear them coming.
The forest feels cold and empty. My body is betraying me—sweat dripping, core throbbing with a sick heat I can't control and didn't ask for. My pussy aches, and I need someone to fuck me so badly. I don't understand what is happening.
If I stop, even for a second, if they catch me… God, the terror claws at my throat until I can barely breathe. My omega writhes inside me, whimpering and scared. I want to scream until my voice breaks, but what good would that do?
I hear running water. That's saved us twice before. Wolves lose scent in the water, unable to track us.
My thighs burn with every step. Beep paces inside me.
"I've got this," I rasp again. She doesn't correct me. My silent sentinel, she listens and smells what I can't, while I focus on pumping my legs.
Water is close, she tells me. I keep running.
Fear is a luxury. I don't let it creep up because it will swallow me whole.
Too far to drop, she warns. Wherever the river is, there's also a cliff.
I could hear it before, but now I can smell it. Fresh water, with that sharp, metallic tinge. Natural minerals, fish, moss. Branches whack me in the face. My knee is killing me. My feet are torn up.
"Omega!" a deep voice surprises me.
My stomach lurches. I'm so close.
Only one of them has caught up. The older one with the beard. The driver who sped down the road half-shifted.
He still has that feral look in his eyes.
"Omega, stop!" He barks at me. Something tugs at me to stop and my feet stumble, but Beep screams, No!
and I shake it off, but it steals precious seconds.
We're so close. Some of the wolves that have chased us have this strange power.
They can almost command me to obey. Beep calls it barking.
She says only the strong ones can do it. I fucking hate it.
I can see the edge now. Oh fuck. It really is a steep drop, judging by the bank opposite the river. I don't stop, but I slow as I approach. I know I'm going to jump. Will he follow?
By the sound of it, yes. He will.
I need a plan.
He beats me to the edge, and while I try to dodge around him, he lunges, arms around my waist, nailing us both into the hard ground.
I scramble beneath him, but he buries his face in my neck, just like that nameless wolf from New Year's Eve, like he's inhaling not just my scent but my soul. Pupils blown, his hands paw at me, frantic and out-of-control.
"Get the fuck off me!" I screech.
"Omega, stop fighting this! I'll take care of you. My pack will take care of you. You're so exquisite. God, you smell so good. So fucking good. You're mine, omega. Mine!" His voice lowers, and he buries his face again, moaning loudly. I can feel his wet, sticky breath, like he's trying to taste me.
Teeth scrape at my neck.
I'm trying so hard to focus, but I'm terrified.
One chance, Beep says.
One chance what? I keep fighting, trying to push him off me. I feel his hardness press into my hip while I struggle for control.
Stop thinking like a human. Wolf now. One chance. You have strength. Not human. Her words sputter out faster than ever, in a rush to make me react, to understand.
And I do.
I'm not fucking human. And I'm not sick anymore. I'm not weak, not like I used to be.
And I'm not alone anymore, either.
"I'm never giving you to that old witch," he rasps, pawing at me, hands shaking as he takes me in. "I promise I'll be good to you. You're mine, omega!"
I stop fighting, swallowing down the bile rising up my throat as he frantically rubs his pelvis against me.
He holds me still with one hand, and I let him think that's all the strength he needs to keep me in place, while he urgently fumbles with his zipper.
I don't fight back, not yet, though it takes everything inside me to remain still.
He's not paying any attention to me. He's lost in his head. His eyes are wild.
I let Beep come forward. We can't shift fast, but we've learned a few tricks.
My mouth elongates, teeth growing longer and sharper, punching through my gums. My fingers transform into claws.
The wolf pinning me doesn't notice until it's too late—in a coordinated effort, with all my fucking strength, my jaw locks onto his throat.
At the same time, my clawed fingers rip through his abdomen.
I aim for his dick, but find something better—his soft intestines spill out, hot and slick, weighing against my belly.
His carotid artery ruptures between my teeth, blood gushing into my mouth, spraying my face and neck. I barely register the copper taste. He howls in surprise, but it quickly dies as I rip my head back, yanking my teeth from his neck, cutting off his larynx.
He thought I was prey. He underestimated me.
Scrambling to his feet, he sways in place, guts spilling through the massive slice above his undone belt buckle.
I stare at what I've done. I wait for the guilt to rise…
It's disgusting what he tried to do, the way all these wolves behave.
And what I've become. I just eviscerated a man.
Did I kill him? Will he die?
I hope so.
And I don't dwell on what that makes me as a person. I turn. The cramping returns.
Two steps, five, ten, then I'm flying over the cliff, arms open, trying not to panic as the running water below rushes closer.
I can hear the other wolves as they catch up, yelling, but it fades, which means they didn't jump after me.
The relief is short-lived.
We hit the water like landing in cement. It's brutal. My lungs seize as I register the shock of cold water. The blood and bile in my mouth wash away, and the last burning thought before darkness claims my consciousness is, I'm ready to head north and get some answers.