A prickling pain erupts on my neck and I reach up toward the sky, but I’m stopped by some unknown force.
“Storm,” I scream his name, but it’s no use. He’s gone.
My eyes dart open, sweat beading on my forehead as the three alphas holding me captive stand around my bed. The air fills with the wilted cherry blossom as my body goes still in fear; my gaze locks on Miles, a needle pinched between his fingers.
“Did you just use that on me?” He grins, while the other two laugh, but he doesn’t say a word. Confirmation enough for me. “What the fuck did you give me?”
“Do you think one dose will be enough?” Ray asks.
“We’ll know soon enough. We’ll give her a few hours, and if nothing seems to change, we will give her another shot. Let's go. We have some business to handle,” he tells the two men who are already making their way to my door. My breathing quickens as my hand applies pressure to my neck. “Your food’s on the dresser. We’ll be gone for a couple of hours, but don’t get any wild ideas. No one’s setting foot in this room while we’re gone.”
With those final words, they all leave the room, the sound of the lock clicking into place echoes through the room.
A dream. Being safe in my room with my brother was just a dream. I rub at the spot, the tingle from the needle irritating me. Not one of the fucking assholes tells me what was in the shot. Mymind drifts back to last night. The shot they mentioned would cause my heat to come early.
“No. No. No,” I mumble, shaking my head at the same time. Every worst case scenario flashes through my mind. Once the heat haze hits me and if the fucking alphas go into a rut, then there’s no way I’ll be able to keep them from marking me. I’ll be craving it, even if I don’t want them.
I pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them, squeezing my eyes shut, trying my damndest to return to my dream. To my room with my brother, safe from what’s about to happen to me here.
“I love you, Storm,” I mouth into the blanket. I don’t know if the wind will carry it; I only hope it reaches him. He’s never going to find me here. Even if my dad actually does confess the truth of what he did, coming here to face the Hartman Pack would be a death sentence.
My eyes drift over to the food, the smell of bacon and cinnamon invading my senses. As hungry as I am, there’s no way I’m eating any of it. From this point, I’m refusing anything they give me. Screw food and water. If they’re going to mark me, then they can feel every ounce of agony I’m feeling as I fade from this world. My refusal is the only piece of control left.
I don’t know how long I sit there in silence, waiting for the next shoe to drop, but nothing. Not once have they set foot in the room, nor anyone else. Guess they weren’t lying. My bladder kicks in, and I climb out of bed, making my way into the bathroom.
Sitting down on the toilet, my eyes drop to the raised scars on my inner thigh. I’d give anything for a blade. “Just use the bathroom,” I mumble. Once I’m done, I wash my hands and head back to the bed and cover up with the blanket. It’s not long before I drift off to sleep.
***
A pounding headache wakes me from my sleep. A dull, grinding pressure that makes every sound feel like it’s a jackhammer working its way past my skull. An intense pressure pounds behind my eyes, traveling all the way to my stomach. It’s not just hunger, it’s something else. Cramps tear through me—worse than any period I remember.
I don’t know how long I’ve slept. My eyes scan the room, stopping on the dresser where the plate of food they left earlier still sits. Untouched. My stomach growls, begging for me to eat, not caring that the food is no longer warm, that the bread on it is no doubt soggy. The food still calls to me like a beacon in the dead of night. But I don’t move. Refusing to eat is the only power I still possess. My own tiny, private rebellion against the hands that have chosen the state I’m currently in.
I roll over on my side, facing the door. I don’t know how much time has passed since they were here this morning or if it’s even the same day. Time has smeared together.
If only I had my blade. A deep aching wish grows within me to carve my life back into shape. Giving me the control of what happens to my body. Shame rips through me knowing the relief I’d feel with the first slice of the blade. The trickle of crimson that would come from it. But I need it now. To feel something, anything other than this.
I draw the blanket tighter, dragging it up over my shoulders until it covers me like armor. The cramps hit me again, and I let out a whimper. The shot. Fuck. No. Please tell me it’s not working. That these assholes aren’t sending me into my heat early.
I close my eyes, willing myself to go back to sleep, to go back to my world of dreams where I’m safe and happy. If the shot is really working and my heat is coming, there’s nothing I can dobut be prepared to fight when they return. Eventually, darkness takes over and I slip away to dreamland.
***
“Can you smell it?” a deep voice asks, rousing me from my slumber.
“Yeah—her perfume’s stronger. The shot worked.” Another voice, huskier.
My eyes begin to flutter, sleep drifting away as reality settles in. I dart up in bed. They're all here, surrounding me again. The sudden movement causes my head to hurt even worse.
“Why are you just staring at me like that?” I snap at them.
“Oh, she’s so bitchy. I should call her Bitchy instead of Guinea Pig.” Elliott jokes, as their rotten, foul scents flood my senses. “All this time spent watching you, and soon you’ll be mine.”
“Never!” I scream at them, taking hold of my pillow and tossing it at him, knowing it’s not going to hurt him.
“Oh, I love when the omega’s got some bite. It makes it even better when they bleed on my cock.” Ray speaks with cold, calculated words as he steps closer to me. “And trust me, Sweetmeat, you’re going to coat my cock in the most beautiful shade of crimson.”
He reaches out to me, and I lift my hands to fight back, but he takes hold of them, pushing them down onto my chest as Miles steps up beside the bed.
