Page 68 of Rest In Knotty Pieces

“Save yourself,” he says again.

No.

No, I won’t.

What’s the point? I’m already living a half-life.

I shake my head, emphasizing my point. He lets out a wounded noise.

“Then, no one can save you.”

He grabs hold of my wrist, pulls my hand free, and then turns and melts away into the forest.

I turn and make my way back to the group, finding them all laughing and smiling. Why am I screaming inside? Why is everything so hard? Why do I feel hands on me? Where is the fear coming from?

My skin is too tight, it prickles, I feel wrong, like in my head. Disjointed, a fractured painting, something that’s so broken I’m never going to be put back together again. I close my eyes, and in the far distance of the inner landscape of my head, I hear myself laugh, carefree and broken, and I hate myself.

I hate what I’ve done to myself.

Arms band around me, I fight them, struggling blindly until the scent of sage and cloves hits me and pushes all those memories back and away. The distress loses its edge, leaving me hollowed out and feeling like I’m nothing but a shell.

“Shh, you’re okay. We’re here.”

I keep my eyes closed, terrified that if I open them, I’ll find that he’s just a fragment of a dream I once had and he’ll turn to smoke and vanish.

I’m pulled into his hard chest.

“They’re going to leave. All of them. It will just be us from here on out.”

I jerk hard, twisting so I can see his face, the questions must be written there because he just laughs.

“Of course, we don’t need them; we just thought it might be easier for all of us if there was a buffer. It was a terrible idea, so they are going to go play hide the pickle on another mountain and leave us to our games.”

I stiffen, then yank myself out of his arms.I’m not playing with man parts.

My expression and the way my eyes drop to his crotch must give my thoughts away instantly.

The alpha leans in with a conspiratorial smile. “You don’t have to touch any pickles if you don’t want.”

PICKLES?

I huff a startled sound and edge back from him, glaring suspiciously.

Sage starts laughing convulsively. I growl, turn and find Rolly standing in front of me, pouring water down his jumper.

“Um, I really want to know what this conversation is about and why we aren’t playing with pickles. And if you object to playing with them, you won’t mind if I play with mine solo, right?”

I stare at a spot on his chest because there is no way I can look in his eyes; I just can’t. My cheeks are so hot that I think I could cook using just the ambient heat.

Rolly suddenly realises he’s pouring water on himself. “Oh, look, I’m so wet.”

My jaw drops. Sage growls, a deep, low vibration that hits low in my gut.

“You’re going to be wet when I drag you to the next body of water and dump you in it.”

Oh. My. God.

He slides his hand down his body, and just when he reaches his groin, Rory and Kota hit him in the face with what looks like water pistols.