"What does that mean?" She stops on the threshold of the lounge where Orion and I play chess and drink whiskey. She turns to face me. "The Moon Goddess decides. How do you know?"
I sigh, leaning against the doorjamb, invading her personal space again, but she doesn't lean away. I reach out, running my fingertips along her shoulder and arm.
She shivers beneath my touch, and I revel in the feel of her. Even such a simple thing. Her arm. Gooseflesh. Warmth and comfort. But she'smine,and she's right fucking here.
I clasp her hand, since she's not running away or screaming. She flinches at first, but when my fingers tighten, she grips mine in return. Her eyes glaze over, the drug of my touch feeding her omega.
Definitely touch starved.
"It's hard to explain. It's like when I met you—when you met me, and Orion. It just felt right. Like something clicked into place. You felt that?"
She nods cautiously, still afraid to admit what she feels, where she stands with us. With her other hand, she nervously kneads her fingers into her palm.
"You just knew. You could feel it. A connection, a thread. That's how pack bonds form. It's like that between me and Orion, and I always felt it with Silas. They had the same connection with each other. It's how my parents would have felt, though they weren't Moon Goddess blessed."
"So, what's it like? Being… connected to someone like him." She clears her throat. "Silas, I mean."
I don't know how to answer. I want to tell her it's like being on the edge of catastrophe. No, that's not quite right. At least it wasn't until I heard what he did to her. It was like being on the edge of… something fractured. The bond between us is still there, but damaged.
I want to tell her about the nights I can't sleep and run high into the mountains, praying for his return, to heal the chasm in my heart.
Instead, I say, "Complicated."
Mona doesn't hide her disappointment. No, she tugs her hand from mine and crosses the room. Again, I follow. She doesn't ask more questions about the house or the photographs. She smells things as she goes, touching surfaces, leaving traces of her omega scent everywhere. Eventually, Orion joins, just watching her explore.
She's making her mark, claiming her territory, whether Mona realizes it or not.
I suspect her wolf knows exactly what she's doing.
Chapter 19: Mona
That night, unsurprisingly, my dreams are filled with visions of two men. One behind me, his breath hot on my neck. The other in front, his fingers pinching my nipple while he thrusts into me. The weight of them, their scents, it's all so real. I feel heat spike through my core, even in my sleep. I can't count how many positions, how many ways they take me, when I finally wake in alarm, gasping for breath.
It's still dark out, nowhere near sunrise.
Sweat beads along my hairline, trickling between my breasts. I'm so wet between my legs it's embarrassing, like a leaky faucet. My damp cotton underwear sticks uncomfortably to my skin.
My scent invades every molecule in the bedroom. It clings to the sheets and permeates the still night air. I try to breathe around it, but I'm panting, and it's so thick I can taste it. Perfume, Grayson called it—my floral honey scent, so succulent, rich, and dense, this can't be just arousal. It's practically sentient, the way this need, this yearning, keens and rattles inside me, aching for that cinnamon and chocolate hazelnut scent.
It doesn't help that, even awake, I can still smell them. The two men responsible for the mess between my legs—they're close by. Somewhere, lurking around the cabin.
A spike of unease hits me as I suck in a deep breath, hoping against all odds and sanity that I'll find that earthy citrus and fresh rain scent.
I blame the late-night delirium for wanting Silas's scent. But it's there, the need for it, and there's no explanation.
I'm dripping, literally dripping between my legs, the slow-spreading gush growing slicker. There's a wet spot on the bed, and I can feel it cooling against my feverish skin as I roll around and try to get comfortable, but it's useless. Like trying to douse a wildfire with a spray bottle.
This is insane. I know it's a wolf thing, it has to be. No human could get this… sticky.
Groaning, I get up, quickly clean myself off, grab a blanket and pillow off the bed, trudge to the little book nook, and curl up on the big armchair.
It takes me longer to fall asleep this time, but when I do, my dreams change.
It becomes darker. And familiar.
There's a woman. She's crying. I've seen her before. In another dream.
She's small, like me, but much skinnier. Too skinny. She hasn't been fed, her cheeks are gaunt. Her brown hair sticks to the sides of her face in strings and clumps. She's drenched with sweat, filthy.
