God.
How the hell could I do that with a stranger?
I guess I should be thankful he didn’t knot me…not yet anyway. Not until he puts his mating bite on me.
I can’t help but think about the horrible sting of a knot popping in place, but the tense minutes until it deflates is probably the worst part. Brayden used to threaten to rip his knot out of me, telling me I was wasting his time, being locked inside me like that.
I can’t help but wonder if all alphas secretly hate knotting their omegas.
Or maybe it was just that my pack hated me.
Sound outside the tent catches my attention. A voice murmurs like someone is talking to themselves. The man’s voice is low and calm, but too far away to understand. Curious, I push myself up on my knees, then crawl. The canvas bites at my palms and knees, making my joints ache. I grit my teeth and crawl forward anyway.
Quiet. Controlled. Careful.
At the flap, I lower myself onto my stomachand press an elbow to the ground, angling my eye to a tiny hole beside the zipper. It’s barely a slit, but it’s enough.
There’s a firepit maybe twenty feet away, still glowing faintly. Someone is standing beside it, rubbing their arms and shifting from foot to foot like they’re trying to stay warm. It's the beta from last night. I think his name is Dakota.
He’s fresh-faced with short, spiky brown hair that looks like it’d crunch if you touched it. He’s wearing a thin T-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants, and that’s it. No shoes. No jacket. Not even a sweater.
He must be freezing.
While the trees are still green, the air feels like fall. Crisp and dry. It’s the kind of weather that tells you fall has started, even if the leaves haven’t caught on yet.
I watch the beta for another second, then angle my head, trying to see as much of the campsite as I can.
Where’s Knox?
Did he leave?
My eye drifts back to the firepit when new movement catches my attention.
Someone else has joined Dakota. Alex or Alec? I can’t remember. He’s taller, broader. Definitely an alpha. He has shaggy red hair that hangs just past his ears. It’s wind-tousled and wild, it falls over his eyes as he leans down and kisses Dakota softly on the mouth. “Morning, baby.”
Dakota smiles like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like he’s been kissed by that mouth a thousand times before. “Morning,” he says, voice a little sleepy, but warm.
“You need to put on a hoodie before you turn into a damn popsicle,” the redhead grumbles, nudging Dakota with an easy elbow.
“Says the guy in shorts,” Dakota shoots back, raising one brow.
Alex—I think—snorts. “Alphas run hot. You know that.” He definitely doesn’t look warm.
His chest is bare and smooth, and so incredibly pale. He’s actually kind of beautiful with his dark blue eyes and long slim nose. He looks like a porcelain doll carved with perfectly sculpted muscle.
Then I see the scars.
They slice across his chest in pale lines, some faint, others deeper, and my stomach turns with a flash of recognition. They look just like the ones Knox has. Not exactly the same pattern, but close enough.
What the hell happened to these alphas?
“How’d you sleep?” Alex asks, stepping closer to the firepit.
Dakota shrugs. “Honestly? Pretty damn good.”
Alex grins sideways at him. “You could sleep on a pile of rocks and call it ‘the best night ever.’”
Dakota huffs a laugh. “It’s a talent of mine.”
