“Of all the ponds in all the forests in all the world, you had to be naked in mine,” I managed, my voice impressively steady considering I was actively averting my eyes from what was undoubtedly an anatomy lesson happening south of his waist.
“Me,” he agreed, actually stretching like he was posing for a photoshoot. “And you’re making quite a habit of stumbling into my territory, my little wildcat.”
That nickname sparked enough irritation to override my shock. “I’m not your anything, Aquaman. And for the record, thewhole naked intimidation tactic is giving serious compensating-for-something energy.”
His laugh echoed across the water, deep and genuinely amused. “Brave words from someone whose escape route just disappeared.”
The crashing sounds behind me confirmed his companions were closing in. Perfect. Trapped between naked water god and his woodland minions. This was turning into the world’s most inappropriate fairy tale.
“Fuck it,” I muttered, plunging into the pond. The water hit me like a slap of reality—cold enough to make me gasp but not enough to cool the burning humiliation of this entire situation. I waded forward, determined to get past him and continue my escape on the other side.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Naked Adonis called out, watching my splashing progress with the relaxed confidence of a predator who knows his prey is cornered. “The bottom gets rather treacherous in the middle.”
“Thanks for the safety tip, Lifeguard Naked,” I shot back, water now reaching my waist as I struggled forward. “I’ll file it right between ‘don’t accept candy from strangers’ and ‘avoid psychotic alphas who enjoy outdoor nudity.’”
He actually chuckled—the bastard—and began wading toward me through the water with the casual grace of someone who knew exactly how good they looked wet and naked. I kept my eyes firmly on his face, which was difficult since his face was also unfairly attractive, all sharp angles and perfect symmetry that screamed “my genetics are better than yours.”
“Stay back!” I warned, my voice bouncing off the water. “I know how to drown people who invade my personal space!”
“Do you now?” he asked, closing the distance with lazy, powerful strokes. “Should I be frightened of the omega who can’t even manage his backpack weight distribution?”
That comment was infuriatingly accurate—the sodden backpack was already making balance a challenge. “I’m warning you,” I continued, backing away while trying to maintain my footing, “I’ve cataloged seventy-three ways to cause permanent damage with just my thumbs, and I’m not afraid to—SHIT!”
My eloquent threat ended abruptly as my foot slid on something slick and mossy. The world tilted, water rushed up to meet me, and suddenly I was completely submerged. The backpack—my brilliant escape kit—transformed instantly into a twenty-pound anchor dragging me deeper. Panic flared hot and bright as water filled my nose and ears, my hands clawing desperately at the straps.
Just as dark spots began dancing at the edges of my vision, strong hands clamped around my waist, hauling me upward with effortless strength. I broke the surface with all the grace of a drowning cat, coughing, sputtering, and probably spraying water from my nose in what I’m sure was an attractive display of near-death elegance.
“I told you the bottom was treacherous,” rumbled a voice against my ear, smug satisfaction dripping from every syllable.
I found myself plastered against what felt like a warm marble wall but was actually a very naked, very muscular chest. Strong arms wrapped around my waist, holding me suspended above the pond bottom while my body attempted to expel approximately half the pond from my lungs.
“Get—your—fucking—hands—off—me,” I gasped between coughs, pushing against his chest, which had about as much effect as a kitten batting at a brick wall.
“So you can finish drowning?” he asked, his voice dropping to that particular alpha register that seemed designed to make omegas pay attention. “That would be a tragic waste of such entertaining defiance.”
He wasn’t just holding me; he was practically molding me against him, one massive arm locked around my waist while his other hand splayed possessively across my lower back. I could feel everything—the hard planes of his chest, the ridiculous definition of his abs, and something else pressing against my hip that I absolutely refused to acknowledge.
Meanwhile, my clothes had transformed into clingy betrayers, plastering themselves to every curve and hollow of my body like they were auditioning for World’s Most Revealing Wet T-Shirt Contest.
“I’d rather drown with dignity than be molested by a naked forest pervert,” I snarled, renewing my struggles. “Let go before I gouge out your eyes and use them as ping-pong balls for my future therapy sessions.”
His laugh vibrated from his chest directly into mine, a sensation that sent unwelcome heat curling through my stomach. “Such creative threats from such pretty lips,” he murmured, his mouth suddenly way too close to my ear. “I wonder what other creative uses we could find for that mouth.”
Before I could unleash the string of profanities that comment deserved, his grip shifted. One large hand wrapped around my throat—not squeezing but resting there with unmistakable dominance as he began wading toward the shore. His thumb brushed against my pulse point, which was embarrassingly rapid.
“Remove your hand from my throat before I bite it off and feed it to those traitor dogs,” I hissed, trying to ignore how easily his fingers spanned my neck.
“Bite me?” he challenged, his voice dropping to a growl that did absolutely criminal things to my internal organs. “Please do. I’d love to feel how sharp those little fangs are before I show you what real biting feels like.”
Heat flooded my cheeks—and other places I absolutely refused to acknowledge—at the blatant invitation in his voice. My omega biology was apparently having a field day with the sexual tension, completely ignoring the fact that this man was holding me captive in a pond while making threats that should have terrified me instead of making my pulse race for entirely inappropriate reasons.
The sound of approaching footsteps made me look past his shoulder to see his two companions emerging from the trees onto the shoreline, moving with the same predatory confidence I’d witnessed at their campsite.
“Caught yourself a little mermaid, I see,” called the elegant one, leaning against a tree with casual grace that screamed dangerous predator. “Though this one seems to need swimming lessons.”
“More like a drowned rat,” I muttered, still struggling against the iron grip around my waist. “Let me go, you oversized sea monster!”
“Sea monster?” my captor repeated with mock offense. “When I’ve just saved your ungrateful life? Where’s my hero’s welcome?”
