Page 80 of Rest In Knotty Pieces

“Are you a virgin, Merle?” Pix asks suddenly and with irritation.

She looks at him with a raised brow. I think the air is so heavy that a spark from a single strike could set it alight.

She shakes her head.

“So, you’ve sucked cock? Had sex? Fucked?” Pix clarifies.

She rolls her eyes and nods her head.

“There, jeez, now stop treating her like she’s a breakable virgin. She can handle images in her head of Sage sucking Blaze’s cock.”

Merle trips over a stick, her head snapping around towards us, mouth gaping open, eyes wide.

Her scent hits me hard, and I have to breathe through my mouth so I don’t go over there and lick it off her. I will be meticulous, and it will take me hours.

“Hmm, interesting reaction there, Merelee-” Rolly teases.

She flings herself back, tumbling off the rock, falling into the dirt, scrambling backwards.

“Merle!” I shout and swing down. I land in a crouch beside her and grab, but she brings up a handful of dirt and throws it into my eyes. “Omega!” I command.

That drags her to a stop, but her eyes are wild, and her breathing is hard.

What happened?I go back over each and every moment.

“The nickname? You don’t like the name?”

She shudders, turns, and vomits.

“Okay, no one will ever call you it again.” I scoop her up before she can escape, ignoring my burning eyes, and carry her back to the cave.

Rolly, Pix, and Sage set up a fire and build us a protected area to sleep, while I hold the trembling omega, waiting for her to return from her nightmares.

It’s two steps forward and one step back with her.

It has crossed my mind that maybe we need to find her professional help, but she’s so distrustful of everyone. It would be easier if she spoke. I would take a name, just a single name. Someone I could take all her fear out on. I would write her agony into their skin and sear it there.

They would howl her fear and cry her tears.

I would do that for her because I am hers.

I just hate feeling helpless. I hate sitting here wishing that I knew how to stop hurting her. Is it too much that I want to make her feel good? I don’t want to keep ripping the scars open, causing her to bleed all over again. She makes a whimpering sound and turns her head into my chest, digging in, burying herself in my scent, bathing in it.

Sage sits down, and she reaches for him, her small fingers wrapping around his thick wrist, like just that touch is a comfort.

The name…we’ll never speak it out loud again. Not a single one of us.

We’re quiet, talking softly and trying not to disturb the hurting omega as the storm bears down on us. She lets out a cry, and I think I hear a whisper.

I shift closer, realising she’s asleep, but putting my ear almost on her lips.

But she’s talking. Barely.

Under her breath, she’s saying two words in a rasping whisper that is almost inaudible. Calling two names.

King.

And Roseland.