There was no real destination in mind. There was no going back to her apartment. Marina would be of no help. The few people that would even think to take her in now would be even less prepared for any of this than she had been. Braced against crumbling brick, she only knew that she couldn’t stop. If she did, she might not get back up again.
The sweat coating her body was clammy, gooseflesh prickling over the back of her arms and legs, yet she felt like she was burning alive. Pulling at the limp front of the male’s shirt where it stuck to damp skin, Quinn managed to raise her bleary gaze from the dangerous path littered with broken glass and shattered hopes. A sign swung in lazy arcs from the false breeze created by traffic funneling through the alley.
“Fuck,” Quinn ground out between chattering teeth as the lettering resolved into something she understood. It was the absolute last place she would have chosen, but some instinct had brought her there. An imagined safety that would see her through this new horror. Years of her life had played out there, time spent under the rule of an Alpha who had never met a challenge he couldn’t defeat. He’d said he loved her once. Then she’d run. Away from him, his cruelties, his cages.
And now she was back.
Only then did she realize her feet had stopped their forward momentum.
The fall was inevitable.
As the world tipped sideways and sent her plummeting into the frozen waters of delirium, she saw a thing she had never thought to lay eyes on again. Shadows and darkness stained in intricate patterns she knew all too well swooped down to pluck her from the gritty pavement.
Broken snippets of grumbling male voices filtered through the suffocating haze surrounding her. Even rougher hands divested her of the ruined clothes. Surpassing shaking, she quaked as she was held against a broad chest and scrubbed with cheap soap. All pride shunted aside when she wrapped herself around his thick body as he began to purr.
Agony receding in slow fits, she let him tuck her in a bed that smelled of sage and him, tangled in heat and comfort. Exhaustion welcomed her with open arms, holding her as it dragged her down.
“Thank you, Alton,” she mumbled against the rich vibration pressed against her lips.
“Go to sleep, baby girl.”
She did.
“Who the fuck is she?”
The shrill quality of a woman’s voice wrenched Quinn into awareness, as effective as a cold bucket of water. Spun sugar soured by black market suppressants had Quinn groaning. She was not up for a fight she didn’t even want to have, not with the clawing pain burgeoning in her chest again.
“Keep your fucking voice down.” The giant beneath her rumbled a growl, heavy hand smoothing down Quinn’s bare back under the thick blankets to settle her.
“But, Rip,” the Omega whined, hesitant footsteps shuffling closer. “Why is she here, huh? You don’t need that cunt. You’ve got me, right?”
“Keep it down, Cherry.”
“I’ll stop taking them. I’m sorry! Just get rid of her and we’ll have some fun like you like.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Quinn said with a disgusted groan. Even with her brain feeling like scrambled mush inside of her skull, she remembered the rules. Gentle fingers tapped against his chest, head turning aside when he nuzzled at the spot just below her ear.
Jostled, the sound of flesh meeting cracked through the air. Multiple dull thumps followed a hard thud. Quinn could envision a small body crumpling to the floor after slamming against a wall. Pained whimpers bubbled from Cherry’s likely bleeding mouth.
“I told you to be quiet. Get out.” If only the command was directed at her instead of Cherry, Quinn thought, as Alton rolled her under his bulk. The calming purr came at once, pressed against her so she felt the resonance through every fiber. Quinn was hard pressed to register the sniffling whines Cherry made as she crawled out. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he said, “Someone’s been a very bad little girl.”
“I didn’t mean to be.” The smirk tugged at her lips before she could grasp the full gravity of her predicament. His deep rumble sluiced all the dents and bruises away, mashing her senses into a watery soup of languor. “But that was always my problem, wasn’t it?”
“I always knew you would come back to me, baby girl,” Alton said in a muffled groan against the top swell of her breast. Hands that could break bone slipped over the soft curves of her body almost reverent.
“It hurt so bad… I didn’t… I just.” Pale brows drawing in, she tried to hold on to the thread of her thoughts. Something was different, incredible and almost horrifying, as he cocooned her in his body and heat. The ghost of something rattled around in her chest, screeching like a banshee but making no sense.
“I could fix it for you. Make it all better.” Lips trailed down the line of her jaw and neck to the dull throb at her shoulder. The tight itch of the bandage was long gone. His mouth moved over tender flesh, tasting tongue making Quinn hiss a surprised breath through her teeth.
“Fix it how?” Feeling as if she was doggy-paddling in a vicious riptide, Quinn clung to the massive Alpha that rubbed his body against her. Tipping her head forward, she struggled to focus, concentrating on the smallest minutia to keep her from drifting off into murky waters.
More ink had been added to the smooth ochre of his skin, the mellow brown accented in sweeping whorls and jagged lines of new patterns she couldn’t quite make out in the uncertain light. How many times had she traced those lines with her lips and tongue? Countless.
“I could take this from him, make it mine. Make you mine.” Oblivious to the way she’d gone still or refusing to acknowledge it, Alton continued his exploration. The rugged texture of his callused palm slipped up her side. Her nipple drew tight as he mounded soft flesh, his satisfied sound scattering in a wash of humid air across her cool skin. “You liked being mine, didn’t you, baby girl?”
Small hands smoothed their way up to his jaw and traced the rough edge of his beard. It’d been larger, fuller, when she’d seen him last. Meeting the ever watchful golden brown of his gaze was a painful thing. Chest constricting in a violent grip, she turned pale gray eyes up to his hair and followed the path with her fingers. Long dreadlocks tipped with gold were gone, cropped to leave rich umber curls just long enough to tangle her fingers in. Rubbing the coarse strands between her fingers, she sought out the nagging itch of wrongness.
“Wait, Alton… What do you mean? Take what from him?” She scratched at the surface of her thoughts, scraping away the unnecessary detritus. There was something important under his words. Things she should understand sifted through her fingers as the writhing ache behind her sternum became a whiplash of agony that stole her breath.
