Page 52 of Sweet Torment

“How long?” Tristan asks into the walkie, his gaze fixed on me as I press my thighs together.

“Maybe four hours or so.”

Four hours. I’m already feeling empty and achy.

A drone appears, a regular one this time, not the kind that kills you. The guys throw a few rocks at it, not wanting to waste any more bullets, but it’s too high.

“We need to find real shelter,” Weller says, his bare chest gleaming in the moonlight. I’m wearing his shirt again, and he looks damn good without one.

We leave behind the small overhang, looking for something bigger to keep us concealed overnight. With only flashlights, the moon, and a storm brewing overhead, time is of the essence. We reach another rocky area, and Tristan points to a crevice. “What about there?”

It’s not very spacious, but it will have to do. We move into the cave-like space. The drone hovers outside, unable to follow.

“I’ll get a fire going.” I pull dry sticks and brush from my backpack that I was saving for this very purpose. My hands are shaking a bit, and Weller notices.

“Please, Bianca. Let me do this.” He gently takes the kindling from me.

“I’m good at it,” I insist, even knowing he won’t back down. “I’ve been building fires since⁠—“

“You weren’t in heat then, and your body has different priorities right now. You can show me the best way to set it up and get it going.”

Smiling at that, I show him how to build a proper fire. It’s near the opening, positioned so that the smoke will exit rather than fill the space. Soon, we have a small but efficient fire going, enough to provide a little light and warmth.

I start digging through the packs, mine and theirs, to get some food options together. They need to eat.

Freddie takes over. “Let me, Bianca. Rest for a minute and eat something.”

He passes what we have around. I take a bite of a protein bar and want to spit it out. Disgusting. I force myself to chew the bite but tuck the rest away. The only thing I’m really hungry for isn’t food.

The need is building between my legs again, and I’m going to need to deal with that soon.

Owen is resting against a wall, his eyes closed. I move to him, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. His palm comes up to touch my face. I sit next to him, pressing my face to his arm for a moment, soaking in the fact that he’s mine now.

All mine.

Freddie is restless as he reorganizes our packs, humming something under his breath. Tristan stands at the opening, looking out as the rain starts to come down. “The drone is hanging around, but it can’t see in here with the angle,” he says, walking back inside.

Well, that’s good.

“How are you doing, Bianca?” He crouches down and presses the back of his hand to my forehead. “Do you need anything?”

Now that you ask…

I bite my lip and nod, locking eyes with him.

“Let me look you over first.” He takes his time moving his fingers over every bruise, cut, and scrape. Every touch drives me more insane until I let out a whimper.

He points to a spot a few feet away in the center of the space. “Present for me, omega.”

I lick my lips, and his eyes follow my tongue as I lift my arms. He pulls the shirt over my head. My body begs me to obey him, interested in this particular game. Once I’m naked, I get on my knees in the spot he pointed to, leaning forward to rest my arms on the ground, my ass sticking up in the air. The position builds a sense of anticipation, and I feel a gush between my legs.

Tristan approaches, circling me once before he comes to a stop in front of me. He gets down on his knees, and I expect him to put his dick in my mouth, which sounds very appealing, but instead, he reaches out with his fingers, pressing firmly between my shoulder blades.

“Back straight, Bianca.”

He adjusts my arms until they are perfectly parallel, his touch deliberate. A hand tangles in my hair, not pulling, just tilting my head to straighten it. He presses down lightly on the small of my back to make the curve of my spine more severe. It’s infuriating and a complete turn-on. They’re idiots sometimes, but they’re idiots who are obsessed with me, and right now, his obsession is a tangible thing.

He moves around my body, his gaze heavy, occasionally making a soft, tutting sound before adjusting me again. Every brush of his hand lights me on fire. I shift my hips, and his hand is gone instantly.