But that look also promised things I’m too scared to admit I want. My skin still itches with the rush of sensation that flowed through me when our eyes met. I don’t even have a name for it—anticipation, longing, hunger—all tangled together until it felt like drowning.
All I know is it sank its claws deep, and I’m fighting against the fear that whatever door these two Alphas just opened in me, I won’t be able to close.
Nineteen. Twenty.
And then—as if two Alphas weren’t enough to send my Omega instincts into a tailspin even through souped-up blockers—I get Mark Felton.
I’ve spent all my time here making damn sure I’m never alone in the same space as him, and for whatever reason, he’s blessedly left me to my work. But tonight, apparently, my amnesty is over.
My stomach clenches at the memory of his voice—slippery as spit and twice as gross. His rank scent hit me so hard it almostmade me gag, dragging me straight back to seventeen again, trapped and helpless.
That subtle threat wrapped in corporate speak still echoes in my head:Maybe you should try to be more grateful for your opportunity here…
Damn, I hate him.
I try the ignition again. This time, the engine coughs to life for a few seconds before dying with a shudder that sounds suspiciously like laughter.
“This is not happening,” I tell the dashboard. “I refuse to be stranded here with my luck. So you better get it together.”
My phone buzzes, and I glance at the screen. Eli. Again.
“Please tell me you’re calling to offer me a ride home,” I say without preamble.
“Actually, I was hoping you were still on the grounds.” His voice is tight with worry. “We’ve got a situation.”
My heart sinks. “What kind of situation?”
“Hell or Highwater. One of the handlers thought he saw some swelling in his left rear leg, but the animal was too worked up to get a good look, and we need a vet to order the transport if it’s necessary. I know it’s late, but?—”
“I’m on my way.”
Because that’s what you do when you’re the new girl trying to prove yourself. You say yes to everything, even when your car won’t start, and your Omega is having a nervous breakdown, and you’ve already had enough excitement for one lifetime.
“But Eli, my car’s dead,” I add. “Is anyone around to give me a ride home after?”
“Miguel’s still here cleaning up. I’ll have him swing by and get you after you look at him.”
Five minutes later, I’m rounding the holding pens and heading across the arena grounds, trying not to think about how this day just keeps getting worse.
The handler—Jim, I think his name is, or maybe it’s Ben? He brought the bulls this morning from South County. He’s still leaning on the fence and gives me a quick once-over.
“Rough day?” he asks, glancing at me sideways.
“You could say that.”
“Well, Hell or Highwater’s been having a rough day too, so you’re even.”
I snort. “What’s his deal?”
“Ornery as hell since they trucked him in from Colorado. Been kicking at everything that moves and half the things that don’t.”
Just then, Miguel pulls up to the big open bay in his truck, next to the stock barns, and kills the engine. “Hey, Wills, I have to talk to a couple of people, unless… Want me to stick around?”
Miguel is one of the good ones. He has always been super professional, if not a little overprotective.
“Nah, I got it. Hopefully, this won’t take long.”
Famous last words.
