The sun is low, touching the tops of trees.Are we in a field?
And then the scent hits me.
It’s overwhelming.
Hot. Sharp.
Male.
Alphas.
Hundreds of them. I can’t see them, but I canhearthem. Laughter. Raised voices. Arguing. Booming echoes that slice straight into my brain like barbed wire.
My instincts recoil, screaming. I stagger, breath catching in my throat.
Kelly grips my upper arm, her nails digging in. “Keep walking,” she says, still chipper—but with an edge now.
I’m pulled forward, straight into another tent. It’s warmer inside. Almost stuffy. And dim. It smells like perfume, hair products, and sweat. I can hear humming and chatting, followed by the clinking of makeup brushes in glass jars.
I barely notice the people around me. Everything’s spinning again.
“She’s about to lose it,” Kelly says to someone nearby. “Get a dose ready.”
No.
I jerk back, trying to twist away, but hands are already grabbing me. One on my wrist, another on my shoulder.
“No, stop—!” I cry out, but it’s too late.
A needle stabs into my arm. I thrash, trying to fight, but I’m pinned.
The plunger sinks down, and icy liquid floods my veins. I immediately stop fighting.There’s no point.
Soon, the darkness will overtake me, and I’ll be knocked out once again. Except it doesn’t come.
Instead, a strange fuzz settles over me, like I’ve stepped into a warm, cozy dream. My panic fades, and so does the room. Everything…softens.
Someone helps me sink into a chair. My limbs are noodles. My tongue is heavy in my mouth, but not numb. Just lazy.
A beta with big red hair steps in front of me, her face all business. “You are cute as a button,” she says, grabbing a comb. “Let’s tame this mess.” She runs her fingers through my hair. “Blonde curls,” she says brightly. “The alphas’lllovethis.”
I snort. Loudly.
I don’t mean to, but everything feels so funny.
“My pack alpha used to pull it when he fucked me,” I say with a giggle, “reallyhard.”
The redhead laughs. “Alphas do love to pull hair.”
But I frown. Something in that memory tastes wrong. The way he’d jerk my head back, then slam his cock into me with too much force. It always felt like he was trying to rip my hair out, rather than trying to hold me steady.
I laugh anyway. I can’t help it. Everything feels funny and floaty and far away.
And then time starts to melt.
At some point, my hair is curled and pinned around my face. There’s shimmer on my eyelids and gloss on my lips.
The redhead helps dress me in something tight—pale pink, silky. A nightie. It clings to every curve, soft but barely there. My thighs are cold.
