In A Van
Elowen
This alpha'sheartbeat is the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth.
I can feel it against my cheek, hard and fast, slamming through his chest and into my skull like a second pulse. His arms are locked around me, one across my back, the other cradling my head as the van rocks violently.
Inhaling deeply, I try to steady myself, but all I get is the alpha’s vibrant scent.
Sage.
Green and herbal and clean, like something growing in dry soil after a rain. And underneath it, winding through the air like a thread of gold, are the sunflowers I’ve been craving. Warm and sweet and alive.
For two whole seconds it comforts me, then pain erupts once again.
My abdomen is seized in a cramp so deep it feels like my guts are being wrung out like a wet towel. It radiates down my thighs, up into my ribs, sitting behind my sternumlike a fist. And my skin burns everywhere my clothes touch…and everywhere they don’t.
It also doesn’t help that I’m soaked. My scrubs, the alpha’s shirt, even the seat beneath us is covered in my slick.
Every bump in the road shifts the wet fabric against my skin and sends a fresh wave of lust and nausea rolling through me.
The van rocks over something large, and my teeth clack together. The suspension groans and the whole frame shudders, the rear end fishtailing on loose gravel before Adam corrects and guns it again. Through the gaps between the front seats, I see the dirt road whipping past, narrow and rutted, branches clawing at the windshield.
“Careful!” the alpha yells, and the van pops up and over another shift in the road.
“Goddammit, Raff. I’m trying!”
Raff.
His name is Raff.
Then something sharp cracks overhead. The sound is so sudden, cutting through the noise of the engine and the road, landing in my chest like a punch.
Then there’s another one.
And another
It’s getting closer.
Perrin's head drops below the dashboard. Adam ducks, one hand on the wheel, the other reaching across to shove Perrin lower. The windshield is still intact, but I hear something ping off the roof of the van, metallic and bright.
Are they shooting at us?
Fear grips me once again, and my stomach drops. My hands claw at Raff's shirt. A sound comes out of me that I don't recognize, wild and animalistic, but somehow stilltrapped behind the command Cliff gave me that's still humming in my veins.
Be quiet.
Be good.
I press my face harder into Raff's chest and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to be good while bullets hit the van.
But my heat doesn't care about any of it.
Every inch of me thrums and buzzes, reminding me that I have no control over my body. Once again, my heat has swallowed every rational thought I have and replaced it with one single, deafening need.
Desperate for friction, my hips shift against Raff's body. Slow at first. Barely a movement. Just the instinctive roll of my pelvis seeking pressure, seeking anything to ease the hollow, screaming ache that's been eating me alive all day long. The feel of his belt buckle through my soaked scrubs sends a jolt through me.
And I do it again.
