That motherfucker.
I remember him knocking Jacks down. Then me when I tried to help. Everything was black until he was dragging me out. Hitting the pavement woke me up, at least a little. There was fire, and I could hear sirens.
That fucking fuck knocked out my alpha and set my goddamned house on fire.
I am gonna fuckin’ kill him.
I pull harder on my hands while forcing my lids open, I need to see where I am. I need to see if Jacks is–where is Jacks? He was with me in the house…fuck…the fire. Did he set the fire while Jacks was still in there?
Panic robs me of my breath, and I flop around, trying to dislodge whatever the hell has my hands. It does no good, they’re stuck tight and not moving. I look around the room, maybe if I can get loose I can call Gabe, he’s part of the fire department, he can go get Jacks. I twist and flail, trying to get loose, but it’s dark outside now…no…it was only just afternoon. I can’t…Jacks.
A broken sob scrapes my throat, and I lay there wallowing. All the fight draining out of me as the train of anxiety plows me under, filling my mind with thoughts of what might have happened. How the others will blame me for him getting hurtor killed. How even if he is somehow alive, he won’t want me because I got him hurt. Before long I am curled in on myself, shaking uncontrollably.
I’m all alone, no one will want me, and no one is going to help me. I take a deep breath, then another, trying to center myself.
I can’t very well check up on Jacks, or apologize for getting him hurt if I’m locked up. Ok, think logically. My eyes are sore as I try to keep them open enough to look around the room. I am on a bed; my hands are behind me, hard plastic cutting into my wrists. So, probably zip ties. I know grandpa had me take self-defense classes in high school, but my mind is blank on getting out of something like this. There isn’t enough slack to twist them. And all those movies that show someone tucking their bound arms under their feet with their legs curled against their chest. Total bullshit, boobs do not allow you to bring your knees up to your chest…and I don’t think I could be that flexible anyway.
The bed I’m on really is plush. A small omega part of my mind keeps telling me that this is a nice soft blanket, and I should stay here and burrow under it. Clearly, my omega has shit for self-preservation skills.
Well, we’re not going anywhere until the room stops spinning, so just lay back, close your eyes, and try to save your energy. With your heat coming up, we want to be well-rested.
Fuck…So, I’m on even more of a time crunch. Shit.
But the snarky little voice is right, I won’t be able to do anything in my present state, so I better restup. I close my eyes, focusing on anything other than my already spotty vision. Mostly I smell smoke.
Probably from where this asshole burned down my fucking house.
Also dust… and something else. Something subtle, and rancid, like old grease that’s been left to curdle. The smell makes bile rise in my throat, and I open my eyes again, trying to get some other sensory input to drive out that putrid smell.
Once I can stop focusing on that, I close my eyes again and listen. I hear boards creaking, someone is moving close by, and muffled voices, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. The creaking gets louder and then fades away again. I don’t know how long this lasts, before I nod off again, my body trying to preserve energy for a heat that I really don’t want to go through now.
Not without my guys.
Iwake up again to someone running a damp cloth down my face. My jaw and head are still throbbing, and I wince when the cool cloth drags over an open scrape on my chin. More details are coming back to me. That guy who works in Gabe’s garage. I only met him a couple of times.
What was his name?
That asshole knocked out Jacks, and me.
I am so cutting off his fucking dick.
My eyes pop open in shock as my head is tilted and an ice pack is pressed underneath it.
“Now, now, Candy, don’t jerk around, you’re going to hurt yourself.” The condescending tone would make me grind my jaw if it didn’t hurt so badly already.
“I am already very upset at how events transpired. What were you doing with that alpha in your house?" His hand that was adjusting the ice pack tangles in my hair and the pull on my sore scalp draws an involuntary yelp from my throat.
“Nobody but you and I should be in that house. Nobody! But not only did you let an alpha in to fix your locks a few weeks ago, but all of pack fucking Asher? Did you think I wouldn’t find out? That you could just slut around and it would be fine with me?"
Clearly somebody’s been eating their Crazy-O’s this morning.
What the fuck?
The hand in my hair pulls tighter, tilting my head back and straining my neck. The face suddenly staring back at me is crazy. He looks nothing like the laid back guy I’ve seen in passing at the garage. His eyes are wide and bloodshot; his hair looks less greasy, but it’s a tangled nest where it looks like he’s run his fingers through it repeatedly. Gone is the easy smile, replaced with a snarl and spit flies as he screams in my face.
“Did they fuck you? Slutty little omega, had to go and fuck an alpha! Did you let them knot you, mark you?!" He shakes the hand holding my hair and my head snaps to the side. I can’t stop the whimper that comes out, and suddenly his features shift to contrite.
“Oh, Oh, no, Candy, I’m sorry." He doesn’t look sorry…not his eyes. “You just make me so mad, being a little slut. All omegas are, but, I was hoping you were different."
