A sound makes me lift my head, ears straining in the darkness. A twig snapping? Footsteps? My heart, which had briefly slowed, kicks into overdrive again. I hold my breath, listening intently, every muscle tense and ready to flee.
Nothing.
Maybe it was just an animal, or the wind moving branches. I can’t stay here forever. The temperature continues to drop, the wind cutting through my wet clothes. If I don’t find shelter or dry off soon, hypothermia is a real possibility.
I push myself to my feet, wincing as my frozen toes protest the movement. The forest stretches endlessly around me, dark and unfamiliar. I have no idea which direction leads back to civilization, which might take me deeper into the wilderness. I’m completely lost, with no way to navigate except by blind instinct. A violent shiver racks my body, and I wrap my arms tighter around myself, trying to rub some warmth back into my numb limbs. My lips feel stiff, my thoughts growing sluggish—early signs of hypothermia that I recognize from a wilderness survival book I read once.
Move, Anya. You have to keep moving.
I take a few stumbling steps, then pause, leaning againstanother tree for support. The barking of dogs in the distance reaches my ears. Fear gives me a fresh burst of energy, and I push away from the tree, choosing a direction at random and forcing my frozen legs to carry me forward.
But with each step, hope drains away. I’m too cold, too tired, too lost. If I don’t find shelter soon, I won’t make it through the night. And even if I do survive until morning, then what? They’ll find me eventually. They’ll take me back to that mansion. They’ll make me their omega, whatever that means.
I stumble and fall to my knees, my body too numb to feel the impact.
The ground beneath me is damp and cold, but I no longer have the strength to stand. I crawl to the base of a large tree, wedging myself between two massive roots that offer minimal protection from the wind. Hugging myself tightly, I curl into a ball, trying to preserve what little warmth I have left.
Ten
RYKER
“Find her!” I bark into the phone before ending the call with Alaric, my heart pounding hard with panic. My fingers tremble as I toss the phone onto the couch. “Fuck!”
I knew it was a mistake to let her out of our sight before she was properly marked and claimed. I should have insisted on staying with her. Now she’s somewhere out there. My omega is alone and vulnerable on an island crawling with unmated wealthy alphas who would tear each other apart for a chance to knot an omega.
The thought of another alpha’s hands on her makes my blood boil, makes my skin itch with the need to shift, to hunt, to protect what’s mine.
I strip off my clothes with desperate speed. Burning sensation spreads across my skin as I begin to shift into my wolf form. The familiar pain of bones cracking and reforming, muscles stretching and compressing, is agonizing.
The transformation takes mere seconds, but each one feels like an eternity when Anya is missing. As my body completes the change, I stand on four powerful legs, my black furbristling with agitation. I shake myself once, adjusting to the sensation of being in my wolf form. Everything is more intense this way. The smells sharper, sounds clearer, instincts stronger.
And right now, every instinct in my body is screaming at me to find my omega.
I burst through the door and into the night, my paws silent on the soft earth as I race toward the restaurant where Alaric lost her. The cool night air rushes through my fur as I run fast. I stick to the shadows, avoiding the main paths where human guests might spot me. The last thing I need is panic spreading across the island about a wolf sighting.
The restaurant comes into view, its warm lights spilling out onto the terrace where humans sit oblivious to the drama unfolding around them. I circle the building, nose to the ground, searching for Anya’s distinctive grape scent.
I suddenly scent her at the entrance.
Her sweet aroma hits me hard, making my cock stir even in wolf form. She passed this way not long ago, maybe twenty minutes ago at most.
I follow her scent trail, noting the fear that taints it.
She was scared, running.
My chest aches at the thought.Did she think we would hurt her? Is she scared of commitment?Either way, I need to find and protect her. She will never ever leave the house again until she’s marked. An alpha’s mark signals to other packs that she’s taken, and they will knownotto touch her.
The trail leads away from the restaurant, down toward the marina.
Her scent grows stronger as I follow it, telling me I’m catching up. The grape smell mingles with salt air and the acrid odor of fear. She was panicking as she fled, her body releasing stress hormones that make her scent sharper, more pungent.
As I near the marina, human odors are everywhere,clouding the air. I lose her scent momentarily, circling in frustration near the edge of the dock. Then I catch it again—fainter this time, altered somehow.
Water. She went into the water.
Alarm shoots through me, my heart rate spiking.Did she fall? Jump?My eyes scan the dark surface of the ocean, looking for any sign of her. Nothing. But her scent continues beyond the marina, meaning she must have gotten out.
I pad along the wooden dock, following the now-wet trail of her scent. At the edge of the beach, I find her small, delicate footprints in the sand, heading toward the forest. She’s barefoot.Why is she barefoot?The thought of her tender skin being torn by rocks and thorns makes me growl low in my throat.
