Page 20 of Indigo

The truck is in the parking lot between us and the motel, but fuck, what if she decides to get a ride with someone? She’s crafty. I pat Lion—oh yes, Emilio named his horses after other animals—and as soon as he’s comfortable, I make a beeline for the door she went through.

No one says a word or tries to stop me. A need claws its way from the confines of my being, and every ticking moment the man within gives room to the Alpha. I remind myself she doesn’t need a beast, but even Nash, who is usually the voice of reason, jogs by my side. There’s no way I can hold back if he can’t.

Her scent is heavy on my tongue, the closer I get to her room. My skin tingles with awareness, and my cock strains from my jeans. I push the shirt up my forearms, glancing at the ink I love so much as I try to concentrate on anything that isn’t her and her frightened blue eyes.

We glance at each other like unsure kids as we stop in front of her door. I roll my eyes at them and knock, a little more aggressively than I should, but I’m not completely sure she is still here even though she would have to pass us to escape. The fear and doubt are still plaguing me.

“Come in,” her soft voice calls.

Thank god. I push the door open, and I’m met with a scene I wish I’d never witnessed. Stripped of all her sass and attitude, Indigo is sitting in the corner of the room, down on the carpet, hugging her knees. Her big blue eyes are rimmed red, her breathing erratic, and the whole room reeks of her fear.

Thick paralyzing fear. The sour peach scent is nothing compared to this. Back at the motel, she smelled like sour jelly, for fuck’s sake. This? This is something else. It’s rotten black mold eating fruit alive, but the fruit is our little Omega.

“Indigo…”

Hank sways on his feet, wanting to go to her but knowing she doesn’t want us. His uncertainty reflects ours, and just like him, we stand here with no idea what we can do to make it better.

Nash moves so fucking slowly, as if she’s a scared animal, but even his soft movements are too much for her. Indigo jumps to her feet, hands out to stop him.

“Please, don’t come closer.”

The hand he’s reached out to her, he brings up now in surrender. Everything feels so fucking tense, and I realize this is worse than I’ve ever imagined. I never considered that Indigo was truly rejecting us as her mates. Fuck, I knew she wasn’tjumping up and down, but I thought she would come around. I’m so beyond stupid. She looks ill, cornered.

“We were worried about you,” Nash starts. “You just left. I had no idea—”

“I’m sorry I took your truck,” she says, licking her lips before squeezing her eyes. “I’m sorry I took the money too.”

“I don’t care about the money.”

“You should care.” She frowns. “I know stealing is wrong, but…”

“You had to do it,” I finish her sentence.

Even though we would never hurt her, she had no idea of our true intentions. At the time, running away was her only option. Whatever is going on in her mind right now is pushing her into dangerous situations, and that’s the only thing I’m worried about.

“I had to do it,” she agrees.

A coat of sweat makes her soft skin shine, and her clothes cling against her skin. She licks her lips as if they are dry, all symptoms of her heat. I wish it was her intoxicating sugary scent up my nose instead of the disgusting fear that makes me want to hurl.

“Can you walk us through the thought process?”

She winces, and I realize I sound sarcastic. I’m always sarcastic, but I actually mean it this time. I shake my head and try again.

“I just want to understand what you’re thinking.”

Indigo hugs her midsection, tears now falling down her cheeks, and she laughs a humorous laugh as she shakes her head.

“Understand what? How can I explain to you what it feels like to be forced to give your body? How does it feel to be a visitor inside yourself? How can I even start telling you that I spent my life with people taking and taking from me, and I can’t letthat happen anymore?” Her voice shakes, and more tears fall. “It can’t happen anymore.”

“Jesus, Indigo, no one is going to force you,” Hank growls.

His bedside manner is even worse than mine, but fuck, her words are cutting, and we are bleeding all over the fine hotel carpet. She needs to understand we wouldn’t take what is not freely given.

“The scent-match took away my choice!” she screams, eyes wide as she takes us in. “The heat is taking over, and soon I’ll be nothing and just beg and beg… and… my body will be yours. My life will be yours. Where’s the freedom in that?”

My stomach drops, hands ball into a fist as anger grows inside my chest, yet I can’t place blame on anything. It’s not Indigo’s fault she feels like that. She’s right on every word out of her mouth, yet I can’t regret scent-matching. It’s the best thing that ever happened to me. It’s a fucking miracle. So what? What do I do with this bitterness coating my tongue? With the hollow feeling in my chest? What am I supposed to do with pain if I can hurt something else?

“What if we can stop it?”