As I came down from the high of my orgasm, I reached up and adjusted the temperature, wondering where to slot this additionalwhat the actual fuckmoment in my life.
I couldn’t touch myself.
When had that even happened? I mean, I hadn’t tried since waking in Torin’s bed because I’d been somewhat preoccupied with the missing months of my life, but my natural horniness was always going to rear its head sooner rather than later, and it seemed that I had another point to add to my list.
7. Kill the motherfucker who decided I couldn’t touch myself to bring pleasure.
If there was one thing I hated more than any other, it was the loss of my free will. No one was allowed to dictate what I did with my body. If this was thanks to whoever had stolen my memories, be it the Shadow Beast or someone else, I would be merciless when I found them.
By the time I dragged my ass out of the shower, I felt wrecked, but with determination filling my soul, I pushed through. Once I was dressed, I checked my phone, praying that somehow Simone had left me a message during the night.
Twenty text messages blinked at me, along with five or six voicemails. When I flicked through, half were from Torin and half from Jaxson. Checking in with me. Asking if I got home safely. Chewing me out for leaving the mixer without saying goodbye to the alphas.
I deleted them all and their voice messages without even bothering to listen. I was acting like an asshole, I was well aware of that, but… fuck them. Especially Torin. He didn’t deserve my forgiveness. I always thought the heroines in books I read were far too lenient with the alpha males. They never made those bastards work for the right to be part of their lives, letting their hormones do the thinking instead of their brains.
I would not just be forgiving and forgetting all the years of bullshit and torment I’d gone through. They owed me at least ten years of their changed attitudes before I’d consider it, and while Jaxson had taken the first step, Torin was not even in the race yet.
Pushing those two assholes from my mind, I left the apartment and headed toward town. Torma really only had one main section of shops, and since I hadn’t ventured this way since waking without my memories, I decided it was the perfect place to start my investigation. The main street was well known for its gossip.
As I walked, the heat beat down on me despite the early hour—it was going to be a scorcher today. Our elevation was high enough here that we often escaped the worst of the temps, and considering it was only spring, clearly, the weather was as pissed off as I was.
At least I’d chosen wisely in the clothing department, wearing cutoff denim shorts, a black tank, and flipflops. I’d also gone with the zero makeup mom-bun look, which was the easiest way to tame the absolute mess of hair I had going on. I wasn’t sure when it had happened, but my hair was acting as strange as my life, channeling Rapunzel so that it was twice as thick as normal, not to mention down past my ass.
Torin wanted me to cut it. He’d mentioned more than once that my hair was a little out of control, so, of course, I took great pleasure in canceling every appointment he made with our local hairdresser. The fucking arrogance of that alpha, thinking he could dictate the length of my hair. Thanks to his archaic attitude, I would see the ends literally drag on the ground before I cut it to please him. Yep, there I went, showing him the one thing that truly controlled me.
My pride.
As I got closer to town, the foot and car traffic picked up, and every shifter who passed me waved and called out a greeting. My first instinct when pack members came close to me was to make myself small and get off the main path. A survival instinct that I’d no doubt never get rid of. Torma was a trigger for me, holding so many memories that I wished I’d lost. At least I had a plan now to escape; I just had a few little issues to clear up first.
When I reached the street, I stopped at the first shop: Baked Buns. It was a fantastic little bakery that had old-school red brick across its frontage and huge woodfire ovens lining the back walls, so everyone could see the delicious treats baking.
When I stepped through the door, the scents near killed me as my stomach grumbled and growled. Normally, I’d never have the money to spend on treats, not even as the alpha-mate because I refused to accept any of Torin’s “support.” But thankfully, during one of my tiny little rage-blackouts in my mom’s apartment when I’d trashed a bunch of shit, I’d found a packet of cash in an old cushion. Must have been one of my hiding places that I’d forgotten about.
Wherever it had come from, I was now cashed up enough to buy myself a nice pastry for breakfast.
“Good morning, alpha-mate,” Brenda, the cheery owner, said as she bustled out to take my order. “We’re so blessed to have you in our store today.”
Bleh. There went my appetite as an old memory assaulted me. When I’d been about twelve, this bitch had watched with a callous expression as a group of shifters had kicked the shit out of me in the field behind her house, on the east side of Torma. At the time, I hadn’t blamed her for not wanting to get involved, but even when she’d hurried off, no help had ever arrived for me. She hadn’t told anyone, and that was what I wouldn’t forgive.
At that age, I’d been lucky not to get raped; I was fairly certain it was only Jaxson and Torin putting their foot down that had stopped it from happening. I probably owed them for that.
Whatever.
“Brenda, hey,” I said to the petite brunette, forcing the dark memories down.
She leaned forward against her front cabinet, all of five feet, petite and pretty. Despite being at least fifty years old, she didn’t look much older than me. Her mate was an enforcer, their two-year-old twins absolutely adorable.
She lived the life I’d always wished I could, but now that I was here, it just tasted bitter.
“I’ll grab a jam tart, two of the apricot pastries, and a small jar of chocolate sauce,” I said, my voice quieter than I’d wanted it to be. Pushing the memories down only got me so far, and both my face and voice acted as mood rings in these situations.
She nodded before hurrying off to package everything up. As she bustled around, I wandered along the cold display, deciding to take advantage of the empty shop. “I have a few questions for you,” I called out. “If that’s okay.”
“Of course,” she said instantly, her voice still light and open.
That would probably change the moment she heard my topic of conversation.
“I’m trying to gather information about what happened in Torma after we woke from our stasis punishment. With my memory loss, I’m worried that I’ve missed something important.”
