Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 73170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Inside the drawers in the small bedroom area were men’s clothes that smelled like detergent, no remnants of the scent of the guy who wears them. No male scent whatsoever.
The bathroom has basic toiletries in the shower and the medicine cabinet, and the kitchen was outfitted with a few dishes and some pantry staples. Nothing personal lying around. No receipts, mail, or any other clues about this Jared fella. He likes protein as evidenced by all the protein bars, protein shake mix, and trail mix in the cupboard. He’s got some classic paperbacks stacked in his bedroom area suggesting he likes to read. The camper doesn’t have a television despite being one of those new, silver bubble-like campers.
A guy with no scent. A lone alpha wolf shifter living on our land. Why has he never come to the store for supplies? To the library to borrow some new books?
2
JARED
As Linc drives off, I’m turning the key to my trailer, a bag of groceries in my free hand. And as soon as I set foot inside, my jaw goes slack, my spine goes straight, and fuck… my dick has gone hard. The bag lands, glass breaking as I haul my phone out of my pocket and call him.
“Yeah?” he answers.
“Three guesses whose scent is in the fuckin’ trailer!”
I’m outside. Ten feet back. I moved out of there so fast I don’t even recall it.
There’s a half-second of silence before he groans and says, “Cicely’s been quizzing me. She must’ve picked the lock.”
Picked the lock?
My vision blurs.
“Jared?” Linc calls out.
She picked the lock?
I blink away the blur. No, it’s not working. I’m hanging on by a thread. I still smell her. I smell her and I… I…
Cold shunts up my spine.
Fuck!
“Better lock me down...”
“Shit,” he replies.
“Hurry.”
***
The Next Day
“This is a problem,” Linc tells me through gritted teeth while unlocking the irons holding my arms.
He’s got the stun gun in his waistband. I’m not surprised after what happened the last time he was about to remove these irons.
“I know,” I say.
My wrists are free. Free and worse than chafed. They’re black and blue. So are my legs. I feel the bruising around my neck and my gut, too. Evidence of yet another night I have no memory of.
After a minute of loaded silence where I know he’s waiting to see if it’s safe to hand me the keys, he sets a sports drink down beside me and hands them over. I down the entire bottle before I unlock and undo the irons around my waist, neck and legs. I hang the key on the hook.
Lincoln’s brows are knit together.
I had him stun, tase, then hogtie me to get me here and he got it done but just barely before I had to give over to the urge to shift. It was beyond an urge. It was that icy-hot inky darkness spilling in until it flooded everything.
“Never thought I’d have that scent in my space like that,” I mutter, my throat raw.
“I shouldn’t have parked it outside her place,” he says with remorse.
I scoff but resist verbalizing my thoughts. No use. I knew the risks. I don’t want to know where she lives or ask why the fuck he parked it there.
“There’s a parking lot there,” Linc explains.
“Stop. I don’t want to know.”
I can’t know.
“So, what now?” he asks and he looks pissed.
I don’t blame him. I’m pissed, too. At myself, my situation. This shouldn’t be his problem. Regrettably, I let it become that.
We should’ve talked about it yesterday when he brought the trailer back. Or better yet, I should’ve hooked it to my truck and hauled ass out of here. But what felt unspoken was a chance to regroup after Silver Hills. I guess I told myself I’d take a day or two, catch my breath and think on what’s next. I should’ve known better.
I zip up my jeans and pull my T-shirt on before surveying my shoes. They were left too close and they’re completely shredded.
He’s waiting for me to answer. I have no fucking idea what to say. All I know is my body aches from head to toe, obviously from struggling against the irons, probably most of the night.
I sigh and thrust my hand through my hair. “Gonna piss.”
I step out and breathe in the dawn air here in this place that smells so right. I dread the thought of not being able to breathe this air. The same air she breathes. I don’t know what the hell to do now. No, that’s not right. I do know. And I knew after that major blow up. I just didn’t want to do what I’ve known I’ve got to do. All this is on me.
Linc’s not by his truck when I round the tree. He must be waiting for me in the bunker still.