Total pages in book: 202
Estimated words: 193561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 968(@200wpm)___ 774(@250wpm)___ 645(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 968(@200wpm)___ 774(@250wpm)___ 645(@300wpm)
And now here I am, under the flirting one with the color-changing eyes that now glare at me, demanding answers.
And I might be a murderer. Even if I didn’t take the head shot like I could’ve, I still caused harm to another being. And that’s not who I am, not who I’ve ever been. But life under Wyatt’s regime, life with the way our pack is dwindling and getting sicker… it’s forcing me to be this person that I’m becoming. And I hate it.
I don’t speak, don’t answer any of this alpha’s questions. Not even when he tugs me up to my feet, demanding to know who I am and why I’ve done this while holding my chin in a firm but non-violent grip. I’m braced and my heart pounds hard as I prepare for him to lash out, maybe backhand me for refusing to speak. But he doesn’t. Instead, he bends and puts his shoulder to my belly, hauls me up in the air, and carries me naked and crying to the village of Arcana Falls where I guess I'll face the consequences of following my brother’s orders.
***
I’m carried for a long time before I smell multiple alphas and Tyson Savage’s blood, which means we’re close, approaching my impending doom.
Terror grips me as I’m carried into a building and down a stairwell into a concrete basement, past a group of men, all with alpha scents who watch him put me in a cell with actual bars on it.
They all then disappear for a long time, and I continue to cry for so long, my eyes burn.
When he returns alone, dressed in dark jeans, sneakers, and a t-shirt, he comes into the cell and leans against the bars. He says nothing for a while, just studies me as I sit in the corner with my chin to my knees, my teeth chattering.
He approaches and I brace, but am surprised when he peels the soft-looking gray Savage Construction t-shirt off his muscled upper body and hands it to me. I’m grateful as I put it on. It’s big on me, covers my behind so shields it from the cold stone floor enough to make a difference.
“Thank you,” I hoarsely whisper.
He stares with his penetrating stare for a moment.
“Why?” he finally asks.
I bite my lip.
“Need you to explain yourself,” he advises calmly.
More fat tears roll down my cheeks.
He leaves and I choke on a sob. I try to take some deep breaths, but my heart is racing so hard it feels like it’ll leap from my chest at any moment.
I jerk in fear when he returns, but he’s holding a bottle of water and a box of Kleenex. He squats in front of me and extends the box of Kleenex my way.
I pluck one and wipe my swollen, red eyes and blow my nose.
Staying in the squat, he hammers me with more questions.
“Who are you?”
I don’t answer.
“Why are you disguising your scent? Where did you get the potion?”
I say nothing. It won’t be long, and he’ll know my scent because the potion will wear off.
“Where’s your pack?”
I blow my nose again.
“Why’d you shoot one of us? You poisoned some of our pack members at the diner, right? You tried to get me to eat that pie so you could poison me too, didn’t you? Why didn’t you just put it in my coffee?”
I keep my mouth clamped shut instead of telling him the herb’s flavor is detectable in coffee if the drinker doesn’t add sugar in their coffee so I never take the chance.
He doesn’t turn mean. He doesn’t hurt me. He doesn’t get impatient. But that stare penetrates as he slowly paces, looking thoughtful. I watch, unable to stop myself from fixating on his naked upper body, at his defined muscles. At his tanned skin. At his unique scent, which now blankets me as well as surrounds me.
“You’re gonna have to talk. You’re going nowhere until you do,” he tells me.
I swallow and bury my face in my knees. He paces another moment, slowly, patiently. When he stops moving and stands in front of me, I look up at him. His nostrils flare just slightly, so I shrivel.
The masking potion is wearing off. I’ve been worried about this eventuality. Once my actual scent takes over, it’ll be in this village and in their noses, and the alphas won’t ever forget it, so I’ll fail at hiding from them. If I even make it out of here.
As his nostrils flare, he continues to demand answers.
Did I try to kill Tyson specifically or would any of them have satisfied me?
Are there others nearby? Are they wearing the masking potion?
What’s my goal? Where did I come from? Then his eyes flash silver briefly as he asks, “Is Lily your real name?”
I’m surprised he remembered the name on my diner name tag, but I still say nothing. He’s relentless in his questioning. His rephrasing. He just hammers me with the questions but never hurts me, never threatens me even though I do nothing but sit here, staring at him pathetically.