Page 53 of Bite

I smile softly. “That’s a great idea, baby.”

“I’ll go first,” Ferris says, using the brush to coat his hand in paint. He reaches above the mantle, placing his hand down and to the right of where the family that lived here made their mark. Raine hands him a rag to wipe his hand, then she coats her own hand, and I lift her just a bit so that she can place her handprint next to Ferris’s. As she cleans up, I place my hand below theirs, a finger touching each of their prints, making something of a heart shape.

“It’s perfect,” Raine says.

We’re perfect.

[ 36 ]

RAINE

The Wilds

After hiking through endless barren farm fields, we find a paved road to follow due west. I walk in between Dair and Ferris, axe holstered at my waist, ready for anything. Being in the open is nerve-racking, but at least we’ll be able to see anything approaching. Dair told us that when they traveled this way on their journey to us a week ago, the roads were clear, but things change quickly in the Wilds.

Despite everything, I’ve never felt safer. Something changed between the three of us while we were holed up at the abandoned farm and my omega could not be more pleased. I feel so much closer to both of them, and I’ve been perfuming at a near-constant rate, exasperated by every accidental touch of my alphas as I walk between them.

I’m not sure if I’ve totally forgiven Ferris, but the little changes in him since he caught up with us give me so much hope. It’s almost like every mile he puts between himself and Grand Prairie gives him more space to breathe. His scent has become richer and more expressive, and I can tell he isn’t cinching himself so tightly, not even around Dair. I don’t know what the two of them were discussing yesterday afternoon, but I saw them around the fire.

I know that Ferris has trust issues when it comes to other alphas. I’ve been obsessively watching him long enough to know that he doesn’t like having to take orders from other alphas, but often forces himself to anyway. However, he doesn’t seem bothered by Dair’s leadership. If anything, he almost seems comforted by it. I certainly am.

On either side of the road, small swaths of wild prairie are slowly taking over the abandoned fields, and I can see a small grove of trees on the horizon, but otherwise, the landscape is bare. I ask, “Is this what the Wastes are like?”

“In some places, yes,” Dair replies, looking across the horizon. “Some of the areas in the Wastes have prairie, grasses, or trees, but most of it is nothing but dirt as dry as sand. The terrain itself is also more varied. There are long stretches of flat land like here, but there are also rocky formations and mountains in the northern and southwestern areas. We’ll start seeing major terrain changes when we get closer to the Foothill Territory, but the main concerns in the Wastes are the storms and the people.”

Ferris moves slightly closer to me as we walk, like the mere threat of danger is enough to trigger his instincts. He asks, “Are there communities out there? Did cities survive the fall?”

“It’s hard to know the timeline, but what we’ve gathered is that a lot of people left the central states when the climate became hostile, moving into the mountainous west or dispersing east and south. As the weather continued to destabilize and haboobs—massive dust storms—became increasingly more common and dangerous, rural folks moved into the cities, seeking shelter in the windbreaks of urbanization. When the Biter mutation spread, most people were lost to the infection because they were all clustered into cities.”

Dair frowns, adjusting the straps of his overloaded backpack, as he continues, “There are entire cities in the Wastes covered in dirt and sand, some that are populated by only Biters, and then there are communities of survivors that have been forced to do whatever is necessary to survive.”

“Something similar happened in the east,” Ferris says, kicking a rock with the toe of his boot. “As sea levels rose, people were displaced, crowding into already overpopulated cities. When the Biter infection hit, most humans didn’t stand a chance due to proximity alone.”

“Yeah,” Dair sighs, and slowly shakes his head in defeat. “It was the perfect storm all over the globe. I bet only the most remote populations were spared from the infection.”

We walk for another few hours, talking about far less heavy topics, until the hunger becomes too much to continue. We find a shaded railroad overpass to rest under and have a quick lunch of dried meat and a jar of preserved carrots from Grand Prairie.

“How are you feeling?” Dair asks me as we sit and eat in the sparse grass. His eyes scan over me while concern pinches his eyebrows together. “Are you having any lasting symptoms of bond sickness?”

I swallow down the last bit of jerky with a gulp of water before answering. “I haven’t felt ill since that first day. My head feels fine and I’m no longer feverish. My neck also feels much better, maybe even totally healed. I think being able to rest at the farm was exactly what I needed. Well . . .” I drawl, blushing, “and some special care.”

Dair’s eyes darken, and his voice turns gravelly as he says, “Good. What about your omega needs? You haven’t been in your nest for a few days now and won’t be able to build a proper one until we get back to my lands.”

I laugh. “I’m fine, promise. I’m not aching for a nest just yet. I actually think just being able to sleep next to you both has been more than enough for my instincts.”

“You’ll tell us if that changes, yeah?” Ferris asks, eyes like deep pools of molten copper.

“Yes,” I breathe, suddenly wet from their attentiveness and care. Ferris’s nostrils subtly flare, and his eyes catch flame.

“Aw, baby,” Dair croons. “You like knowing your alphas are gonna take care of you?”

“My alphas? Is that what you guys are?”

“More than you know,” Dair growls while Ferris stares intently at the bite he left on my neck, as if to say, fuck yes.

I shift onto my knees and crawl onto Dair’s lap, making myself comfortable in the nest made by his thick thighs. His hands come around me instinctually, wrapping me in his warmth while I rub my cheeks across his beard in a possessive scent-mark.

To our side, Ferris whines, even though he does his best to stifle it. I look over my shoulder, meeting his longing eyes. His desperation does something wicked to my insides, and I wiggle a little, restless. Dair’s voice rumbles in my ear, “Are you going to keep torturing him, baby?”