Page 118 of Savage Surrender

“None of them?”

“No.” Weller’s answer startles me. He’s been so quiet. “I watched for them, but never saw anyone come back to shore.”

I can still feel his arm locked beneath my breasts. His mouth beside my ear. This will be fun.

“You saw them?” I ask Tristan.

“Two of them, but I was looking for you.”

Megan squeezes my fingers.

Ezra shrugs. “Pretty cut-and-dried.”

I snort. “They just didn’t have a handsome former lifeguard to give them mouth-to-mouth.”

Megan’s mouth twitches. Then she leans closer, her nose wrinkling. “Hey, you don’t smell good.”

“Thank you.”

“No, babe. You smell like heat.”

Weller goes rigid under me.

“It started on the beach...” I rub the heel of my hand over my breastbone. “Then everything happened.”

Ezra studies my face. “The shock pushed it back. Stress can interrupt the onset.” He doesn’t hesitate. “It’s delayed but will likely happen soon.”

“How long would you say?” Weller asks.

“Hours, maybe a day,” Ezra says. “Her scent is already building again.”

“Fantastic.”

Megan drops to her knees beside a canvas bag. “I brought one emergency dose. It’s all I could hunt down.”

Ezra reaches over her before she gets the zipper open and pulls a small pouch from the side pocket. She takes it without looking up, like she knew his hand would already be there.

She tears through the pouch and holds up a silver packet. “If you take it before the heat kicks back in all the way, it should buy a few days. Should.”

I take the packet from her and tip the pill onto my tongue. It starts dissolving before Weller gets the glass to my mouth, chalky and fucking awful, so I swallow twice and keep drinking until he lowers it.

“A few days gets us somewhere safer,” Ezra says. “We came prepared to stay through your heat. Food, perimeter, sleep, whatever you need.”

I look at the canvas bag by Megan’s knees. It’s stuffed so full the zipper bows, with a rolled sweatshirt trapped in one side. They packed for days.

“You think I’d let four alphas be your only supervision? Please. Somebody has to protect you from their terrible ideas.”

“Our number one priority is keeping her safe,” Weller says, mildly offended.

“She smells like the inside of an alpha gym bag and has four of you making decisions for her.” Megan turns to me and waits until I meet her eyes. “You need me.”

“I really do.”

A phone vibrates against my hip.

Weller’s palm stops moving over my side. He pulls his phone from his pocket, opens a message from Winston, and turns the screen toward me.

Dad arrested at Montgomery’s for trespassing and threats. Not hurt.