Page 65 of Rest In Knotty Pieces

He follows my shoulder down and grips my wrist, stroking and pushing on my arm. I don’t pay much attention other than to moan because it feels so good, but when he gets to the webbing of my fingers, I’m suddenly overcome by emotion.

Is this what I’m reduced to? So desperate for touch that just having fingers touch mine has me ready to belly crawl to them.

He ignores my tears, just keeps stroking and touching. Eventually, I fall asleep, and when I wake up, he’s gone.

“Merelee.”

I hate that name, but now I fear it. I duck down, hiding in the dark, hoping but knowing that hope is a useless emotion.

My hands are so cold they are almost claws, and I’ve got a burn on the inside of my wrist in the shape of a soaring bird. I keep looking at it, hoping it will be an omen. A good one.

“Where have you taken my things?” the voice thunders.

Fear sours the air in my lungs. If he’s here, I’ll never make it out alive.

“I can smell you, fucking whore omega.”

I close my eyes, wishing I’d had enough money to buy a suppressant patch. Just one. It might have saved my life.

He explodes in front of me, his dark blue eyes wide with rage.

I scream

Brian grabs my throat and squeezes.

I wake up screaming, but the sound is smothered. A hand presses hard against my lips and yanks me back into a warm body.

I send my elbow back sharply and yank free, scrambling out of the tent and into the night, gasping. Air soars in and out of my lungs. I turn in a circle, seeing alphas, omegas, everywhere, people I don’t know.

“Get back from her!” Roseland commands.

I hear his voice, but I can’t pick him out. I can’t catch his scent.

“Ro-”

I collapse, falling into the dark, his name on my lips and in my mind.

“Did she just speak?” someone asks sharply.

I’m lifted into strong arms and pulled out of the dark. It’s not Roseland, it’s Pix holding me.

I grab his shirt, locking my fingers around the material, refusing to let go. He sits down and pulls me so I’m sitting on his lap facing him. I wrap my legs around his waist and bury my face in his shoulder.

“So, you can speak.”

I clear my throat, lick my lips, struggle for a moment, and try. Nothing comes out. He stares at me for a long moment and then nods. I slide off his lap, too embarrassed to stay.

“Okay.”

That’s all he says. It doesn’t sound like a judgement, but I flinch all the same.

Roseland watches me from the tree line, but his expression looks agonized. Our eyes connect and hold before he stands up and walks away, leaving us to the fire and the darkness.

“You scared the crap out of everyone.”

I lower my gaze to my fingers, twisting them together until they ache.

“Don’t be; it keeps them on their toes. They’ve gotten too used to sleeping heavily,” Pix says thoughtfully.