Twice.
Three times.
Another boom of a bright, bold light lands closer to the house, the glow illuminating through the window. The next bold crack across the sky leaves me in pitch-black darkness.
Another cramp clutches my insides, more pain and slick consuming me. I struggle to catch my breath, the temperature in the house rising.
No. Not the house.
Me.
I’m sweating. I’m drenched. My skin is scalding to the touch. I can’t take it anymore. I need him. I need Oklahoma.
My tank top is drenched with sweat, and it sticks to my body. I grab the hem, tugging it over my head, then toss it to the side. The soaked shirt lands with a wet plop on the floor.
Somehow, even more sweat drips. My eyes burn from the invasion of salty liquid, my vision blurring from the sting. The heat heightens, and the scratch of any clothes against my skin is too much. I can’t take it. I need everything off!
I fumble with the button of my shorts with trembling fingers, shaking from the chaos in my system.
“Come on!” I sob, yanking on the button as hard as I can.
It pops off, clinking against the floor and rolling away.
I don’t care.
I need relief.
Pulling down the shorts, I kick them off along with my panties. I struggle with my bra and end up snapping the straps and breaking the hooks in the back.
I’m finally free.
I lie on the cool wooden floors, doing my best to catch my breath.
The storm rages outside. Rain pours harder. Thunder growls louder. Lightning strikes closer.
The air has changed.
My phone buzzes next to me, and I reach for it, patting the floor until I have it in my hand. It’s hard to see the text. I’m dizzy. The words on the screen, stretching and bending into blobs Ican’t read. I rub my eyes, narrow them, doing my best to focus to see a text from Ruka.
Ruka: “Following a possible supercell about an hour away. The local storm’s cap is too strong. We don’t think it will break. We are following another lead.”
For the first time in my life, I don’t fucking care about the chase. I don’t care about a storm or a damn tornado. I need this pain to stop. I’m tempted to take Oklahoma in his sleep.
“He won’t mind, right? He won’t.” I shake my head back and forth. “No, no, no.” I practically sob, not wanting to do anything without his consent.
Maybe he doesn’t want to be mated to me. His life would be easier. He wouldn’t be worried about losing me. He wouldn’t be stuck with someone who loves what he doesn’t.
“No. No. No,” I whine, not wanting to believe the negative voice in my head.
With fire in my muscles and my skin tight, I whimper as I try to push myself to my feet. I hold my arms out, steadying myself, my knees buckling from weakness. I catch myself on the back of the couch, using the cushions as leverage to drag myself across the floor.
When I get to the edge of the sofa, I stare at the wall just a few feet away. I hold myself steady, taking deep, needy breaths to gather the energy to move.
More slick pours from me, lust boiling my insides as if the sun is trying to shine through me. I slip my hand down my body; my skin is sweaty, and I revolt at my touch.
“Fuck!” I hiss, yanking my hand away as if my flesh burned me.
Stumbling forward, I hit the coffee table with my leg, and another damn lamp teeters before it crashes to the floor.
