Eventually I tune them out and wander to the open front door. An odd spring of anxiety tightens my chest as I look outside. Beep perks up, but doesn't sense any threats.
It's bright out. The birds are chirping. The air is pristine—so different from the city or the suburbs where I wasted the last few months.
It's a great big world outside that door, and I know how cruel it can be. I set down the empty bag and glance at Doc and Grayson, still arguing. Then I turn back to the doorway.
If I concentrate, I can scent other wolves on the land—faintly—that gamey blend of magic and animal. And the land itself. The wind carries pollen from thousands of wildflowers. Lupines. Hawkwood, milkweed and clover. There're field mice and rabbits, foxes, wildcats, moose. Fresh streams full of trout, bass and pike. We're far enough north, high enough on the mountain, that I can still feel the cool bite of recently melted ice on the caps. But at this elevation, it's warm and everything is fresh and beautiful.
They call this place Silent Peak. It's anything but silent. Under different circumstances, I think I would have loved it here.
Yesterday, I told Doc I wanted to go to the Bahamas and live on a beach. But that was fresh off getting my ass beat.
Since then, I've gained two mates, a bedroom in a cabin in the woods, and more food than will fit in my belly. With some time and space… maybe I can love it here. Underthesecircumstances.
It's that thought that has me charging back toward Doc and Grayson, interrupting their heated debate about my future.
"Let's do it, Doc. I'm ready." I'm tempted to grab his arm and drag him outside, but he chuckles and waves his hand in the air.
"I appreciate the enthusiasm, but let me look you over first."
"You said I was healing fine?"
"Yes, but I want to be sure. Omega healing is slow. Come, let me see that eye, and I want to check your ribs."
I stand still while Doc prods at the stitches on my face. My injuries look and feel significantly better than yesterday, but that doesn't stop Grayson from overreacting, even worse than Orion. He huffs and growls, snapping at Doc to be more careful every time I flinch. I can't help it, my omega fucking glows at his attention, even though it's way over-the-top.
Is this what it's like to have mates—someone who simply notices and cares that you're hurt?
Doc ignores his grumbling, though, running his thumb over the nearly healed cuts, assessing my hands. He has me stretch my foot out and flex my toes.
"Any pain? Numbness?"
"No. I feel amazing, actually. The food helps."
Proximity to your mates is what helps, Beep adds.
I grit my teeth and change the subject. "Doc, why do I still have Silas's bite scars when everything else heals completely?It's been nearly six months, shouldn't they be gone by now?" I tug my collar, revealing the half-moons, then pull up my shirt sleeve. A dozen marks, slightly raised, paler than my skin, and they look years old, not months.
The air electrifies. Doc and I freeze, and what I'm now learning is alpha power—pheromones, raw and primal—slams into us like a battering ram.
Grayson's chest expands, shoulders swelling as he huffs and tries to regain control, but he can't contain it, and his dominance radiates off of him in suffocating waves.
I've never thought of myself as submissive, but the urge to bend my knees, to drop to the ground, is overwhelming.
My omega whines, pulsing out of my chest, as if to say,Go to him. Help him. I canfeelhis pain. His anguish.
"Thatfucking—" Grayson's roar drowns out everything. He whirls and drives his fist through the wall, making me jump. The wood splinters, layers exploding outwards when he pulls his hand back—insulation, foam, wiring. A painting crashes to the floor, glass shatters.
"Grayson!" Doc snaps.
Orion materializes from the kitchen, scanning me, the mess, and the heaving alpha's bloody knuckles. Orion calmly circles the destruction, positioning himself beside me like a shield.
"Are you alright, Mona?" His voice is gentle, and I take a step closer. At the invitation, he wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me in. A vibration rumbles from his chest. A purr.
My omega draws strength from the steady hum. She sways toward Grayson, too, but I force myself to settle into Orion's support. While I haven't decided what I'm going to do about being their mate, I let myself take what he's offering. His hazelnut scent grows earthier, more potent, and I let it wash over me.
Feeling more stable, I look up, only to catch a glimpse of Grayson's retreating back. Disappointment isn't new to me, but for some reason, it feels a little bit like rejection. My throat constricts as I swallow back what feels dangerously close to tears. I can't even blame my omega for it.
I don't get why Grayson reacted like that. I mean, I'm pretty sure he saw one of the bite marks last night at dinner? Maybe he didn't realize how many there were. Orion hugs me tighter, while Doc pretends the last five minutes didn't happen.
