Sun-warmed cotton and salt. And underneath that, layered deep in the fibers, the faded but unmistakable traces of three other people. Cliff's chocolate and smoked cedar. Perrin's scent, warmer and softer. And woven through all of it are golden, sweet sunflowers.
My fingers curl into the fabric and I pull it up over my nose, breathing in so deep my ribs ache. The heat that's been clawing at my edges soften enough for my shoulders to drop and my jaw to unclench.
Then, without warning, pain erupts inside me.
My vision doubles and my skin ignites. Every muscle below my waist clenches in a rolling, vicious cramp that folds me in half against Adam's chest.
My legs give out.
I slide down his body. My hands drag along his firm chest before my knees hit the ground for the second time today. The need inside me is instantaneous and total. A hollow, screaming ache between my legs that demands to be filled, stretched, fucked until the pain stops. My hips rock forward on their own, grinding against nothing, and a silent keen builds in my throat, trapped behind the command Cliff gave me.
Be quiet.
Be good.
Don't make a sound.
I press my face into the beta’s stomach, my nails digging into his hips as I shake. The cramps roll through me, each one worse than the last, and the slick is back, soaking through the scrubs Adam fought to get on me.
"What the hell do I do?" Adam's voice is strained. His hands are still hovering, still not touching me, even as I claw at his waistband. "Cliff, she's—I don't—What do I do?"
I don't hear Cliff move, but I feel his handon my upper arm. “I’ll deal with the guards,” he says as he hauls me upright, pressing me against Adam's chest so I'm sandwiched between them. Then he leans in and whispers, “You get her the fuck out of here.”
The contact sends a jolt right through me. It’s so sharp I almost choke as my whole body lights up.
Every nerve fires at once, heat flooding from the point where his fingers press into my skin and radiating outward. My nostrils flare, pulling in their combined scents, as my thighs instinctively press together.
I want to bite and lick and suck and fuck both of them until my whole body is raw with pleasure.
What the Fuck?
Raff
I haveno idea what's going on, but I'm really starting to lose my patience with Cliff.
What the hell is he actually doing inside that tent?
Twenty minutes ago, Perrin came tearing through the camp, racing right for me like something was chasing him. He grabbed me and Adam by the arms, and told us that Cliff was in a storage tent with an omega in heat, then he dragged us here.
While Perrin seemed dead serious, I’m starting to think it was all bullshit.
I don’t smell anyone in heat.
I pull air through my nose for the hundredth time. Diesel. Pine. Sun-baked canvas. I can also smell the distant, restless musk of alphas milling around the auction stage on the other side of the meadow. And underneath all of that, drifting from the holding tents, I pull the dull, flattened sweetness of suppressed omegas. Their muted scents barely register, like flowers sealed under glass.
But there’s no omega pheromones or slick. Not one trace of it.
Nobody in this camp is cycling, let alone in full-blown heat.
I’m two seconds from marching into that tent and dragging Cliff out myself.
"So yeah, the drive was brutal," Perrin keeps chatting with two very annoyed guards. My beta’s hands moving while he talks, painting pictures in the air for men who clearly don't give a shit. "Like, over an hour on a logging road. You guys ever drive a cargo van on a logging road? It's like riding a mechanical bull, except the bull hates you and there's no prize at the end." He lets out a quick laugh. "Well, I guess the prize is getting here, which, you know." He gestures vaguely at the camp. "Anyway, my alpha gets carsick sometimes. Not like, a lot, but when it's hot, and the road is bad and he hasn't eaten. The man goes green. I'm talking green, green. Like —"
The guard with a buzz cut holds up a hand and shakes his head once. "I really don't care. We need him to come out here now."
"Right, totally, yeah." Perrin nods then pushes his hands into his pockets. "I’m sure he’s almost done." He glances back at me, his eyes widening as they flicker from the tent and back again, silently telling me that he’s not sure what’s going on either.
"Where the fuck is Connor?" The second guard, a short fucker with a patchy red beard, spins around scanning the path. I assume Connor is the first asshole who threatened to go get Angelica.
