Page 35 of Prey for Me

“Because,” he states, eyes lifting to the ceiling before landing back on me, “you belong to us, Grace. You don’t have to watch your back. Anyone who dares touch you needs to watch theres.”

I wonder why that rule doesn’t extend to him. I wonder why in on breathe he can be so cruel, and in the other trick me into thinking I’m one of them.

CHAPTER TWELVE

GRACE

“Alone?”mypacksayscollectively as Nadège and I stand hand in hand at the edge of the warehouse, her surviving cherry red suitcase in her hand.

“Yes, alone. I want to talk to her alone for a moment, okay? And then we go home,” I say, the word slipping out before I can stop myself.

Leo moves to protest but Nakoa nods and Raphael just… stares. He still looks at me like he doesn’t know what to do with me.

“Fine. We’ll be waiting. And her pack can’t wait much longer. Follow the path up the main road to the blue house with the red roof,” Nakoa says as I translate as rapidly as I can.

“It’s not safe!” Leo says, every muscle tense, radiating anxious energy. And maybe I imagine it, but it looks like Raphael nods for a split second.

“They’ve acknowledged her as my mate. Anyone who touches Nadège knows they will meet a fate worse than death. They will be safe,” Nakoa says, and his tone is absolute.

And then, he lets us leave! I mean, I’m still wearing a shock collar apparently, and Nadège has about fifteen minutes before she can’t walk, let alone run away. But I don’t expect him to let us leave without them.

We walk in silence, since there’s nothing left really to say. But I can’t bring myself to part without helping her to the house, and to get as comfortable as she can. I’m already complicit. I don’t want to make it worse for a pregnant omega than it already is.

As Nakoa said, no one bothers us on the path. They stare, some pant like dogs in rut, but most just smile, oh, and ah like we’re exotic animals. I guess we are to them. But it makes sense in a way that they can control themselves when they want to. They run a society after all, one that can organize itself for war, intercept radio transmissions, build farms on a tropical island.

But somehow can’t find a way to escape. Why? Who or what is keeping all of us here?

This question nags at me as we move in silence, until the little blue hut with the red roof comes into view. It’s not big enough to be a house in my opinion, and too humble for someone as regal as an internationally known supermodel to get knotted in. But I remember I am an ex-princess who was impaled on a cliff, so I guess it’s a step up as we climb up to the wooden door.

“Leo, are you following me?” I call out and the rustling in the trees overhead goes quiet, Nadège tilting her head down at me in confusion. “Go back before you get in trouble.”

I sigh when we start walking again and the rustling picks back up. He’s on persistent, overprotective, stalker, I’ll give him that.

“This is my home.” she says, and it’s not a question.

I help her into the bath and was her back. Is this what Faith meant, the instant bond between omegas? I guess so.

I help her onto a surprisingly plush bed stuffed with what I assume are bird feathers, filled to the bursting with pillows in a rainbow of tropical colors. We talk in hushed voices insidethe well maintained house. It makes me even more curious why we’re roughing it in a cave, when Nadège’s honeymoon will be in a rather oversized and hard, but much more comfortable bed.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

We freeze, my hands still mid-way in my efforts to pin pack her hair so none of it gets ripped out in thier mating frenzy. I can feel their agitation through the door. Her pack is here. They won’t wait any longer.

“Are you sure?” I ask, because I’m scared. Maybe Faith was right. I feel an intrinsic bone with my fellow omega.

I feel complicit

She shrugs isn’t that all alphas on and off the island?

Can’t argue with that

She nods, braids loose, skin flushed and hot to the touch. “When I didn’t jump, I made my choice.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, because it’s too similar to my own situation. Wasn’t I boasting about how I’d die before I was raped? And yet…

“Le bonheur est parfois caché dans l’inconnu,” she states, eyes drifting towards the door.

It takes a second for my mind to catch up and translate what she’s said. But when she does, I clench my jaw and hang my head.

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