“You’re a mind reader now?”
“Yes.” She nodded, her brown waves dancing around her face. “No Cobra talk, no Cobra thoughts. I’m not letting you be sad and sulky today; this isourday.”
“Where you torture me by dragging me from shop to shop and eventually reward me with food?”
She beamed. “There, see, you do understand.”
If she wasn’t so nice, I would have rammed my elbow into her ribs. Proving how nice she was, she squeezed my hand. It was a warm, reassuring touch. “We’re just worried about you, Lynn. This argument will blow over in a few days like they always do, but I hate seeing you upset.”
“I’m not upset,” I argued.
She raised an eyebrow. “It’s okay to be upset when you’ve had an argument with your boy—friend.”
“Nice save,” I drawled.
Jessia closed one eye in a wince. “You get my point. No sad talk, even though it’scompletely okayto be sad and you should really tell us what happened so we can help. Now, let’s find some more cute and stabby clothes for you. ChaCha!”
“Aye aye, Cap’n,” ChaCha replied from a pile of clothes, holding up a denim skirt. “Is this too slutty?”
“I thought you didn’t believe in that shit,” I said.
“You’re right, I don’t. I’m gonna try all these on while the shop’s quiet.”
Huh, she was right. I could hear people chatting near the register, but back here it was blissfully empty of anyone except us. And if I had to admit it, at gunpoint, I was having a good time.
Dreamer pushed off the wall—the mirror wobbled in panic at the sudden movement but managed to stay put—and followed ChaCha to guard the dressing room. If I thought that meant we were off the hook, I was immediately proven wrong when he grunted and angled his head for us to follow.
I sighed, linked my arm with Jessia’s and trudged after him. I’d changed my mind. I hated shopping. Standing around while ChaCha tried on her small mountain of clothes sounded as appealing as watching paint try.
Jessia batted her lashes at Dreamer. “Can’t I just look at that rail there.” She pointed at one visible through the curtain of the changing room area.
His face didn’t shift. “No.”
“Pleeease.You’ll be able to see me.”
I’d never seen the bulldog’s expression soften before. It was only in small increments—his eyes lost their hard edge, and his frowning mouth became more of a flat line. “You stay in my line of sightat all times.”
Jessia beamed. “I will. Promise. Come on, Lynn.”
She snagged my elbow and strong-armed me over to a circular rail of clothes I had very little interest in. Jessia laughed at my expression and picked out a pink top edged in marabou feathers. “You would looksodarling in this.”
I narrowed my eyes. Two could play at that game. “This issoyour colour, darling.” The top I held up was a shade of yellow I could only describe as BIC highlighter, and to make matters worse it was trimmed in big, gold sequins.
She laughed, a pealing sound that loosened some of the anxiety in my chest I could never shake when I left the compound. Like the universe was itching to prove me right, a shadow came around my side. Before I could react, a sweaty hand slammed over my nose and mouth, muffling my shout of surprise.
My eyes widened, panic clattering through my heartbeats when I saw a guy had grabbed Jessia too, silencing her with his hand over her mouth just like the fucker who thought he could grab me. The panic in her eyes drove through my heart like a spike.
I threw my head back, rammed my elbow into the bastard’s ribs. Another muffled cry left me when my elbow throbbed. I’d been aiming for the soft, fleshy bits lower down, hoping to hit a kidney, but all I’d done was piss him off. His scent hit mynose, beta but blackened, bitter like acrid waste, and my panic turned to true, icy fear at the scent. How many atrocities had he committed, to have a scent as warped and dark as that? Cobra and Tybalt literally tortured people, and didn’t smell as noxious.
“Dreamer,” I screamed through his hand, throwing my weight back into the beta and managing to knock him back a few steps.
I pushed my advantage, jumping off the floor and trying to use my weight to unseat his grip like we’d practised in Justice’s self-defence classes, but he took advantage of me being unbalanced to secure his grip. The ice spread until I began to shake, adrenaline dumping into my bloodstream.
Jessia was struggling, too, but tears streamed down her face and through the muzzle of the fucker’s hand I could hear her whimpers, her pleas. I could too easily imagine that fucker snuffing out her bright light, turning her sunshine to darkness. I screamed against the sweaty hand over my mouth, sank my teeth into the palm, kicked my feet into his shins. My heart turned thunderous in my chest.
I saw her eyes widen a moment before the hands were ripped from my body. The second I was free, I shoved my hand into my inner pocket, grabbed my penknife, and snapped the blade free. I hesitated only long enough to see Dreamer charging at the beta who’d grabbed me—tall, white, unremarkable except for a scar that looked like a lightning bolt on his cheek and the ugly flare of his nostrils as he sneered. Mean, cruel, hideous man. I’d seen his kind over and over at the barn. I knew what men like him were capable of, even without the excuse of alpha instincts.
As Dreamer rammed his fist into the beta’s ribs, I threw myself at the bald, thuggish man who restrained Jessia. He released her a moment before I swung my knife at him, throwing my friend into the rail hard enough that she cried out.
