Page 15 of A Pack of Honey
Sean and Sally give their accounts of how they found the pole barn and I answer some questions. As I do, I watch Hunt and Luca get in their car and leave while Jess goes into the farmhouse and Cole stays nearby. His presence should annoy me, but his scent makes me feel grounded, and it helps me get through the questions with the police. Ultimately, I know who did the damage, no matter how much I lash out at Cole and his pack. I reiterate my beliefs to the police, but without proof, there's nothing they can do. Their hands are tied. Cole's not close enough to be eavesdropping, so at least there's that.
The police leave. Sean and Sally hover by the porch. It's long past their shift end.
"It's okay. I'll see you both tomorrow," I say.
They look at each other and do that psychic twin thing.
"We can stay to help," Sally offers.
I shake my head. "If I need you, it can be done during your shift tomorrow. Thank you for your help today."
Sally hugs me, and they both head to their car. As they drive away, I make my way to the porch swing. While growing up, this was my favorite place to spend time. It still brings me comfort that I can't find anywhere else. I lean back and rest my head on the back of the swing, allowing my feet to absently push me back and forth.
Footsteps echo across the porch's wooden planks before stopping in front of my swing. I open my eyes to Jess, holding a first aid kit I keep for emergencies, a clean washcloth, and a bowl of water.
His brown eyes scan me from head to toe. "Can I help you?"
"I can do it," I say, reaching out for the supplies. He doesn't make a move to relinquish them to me. Even though they’re mine and he had to have gone through my cupboard drawers to get them. Snoop.
"You can, I know,” he admits “But after all that… my alpha would feel much better if I could help you."
I want to tell him to fuck his alpha. His alpha isn't in charge of me, and I don't care what he needs. But that's patently false. He's looking at me with so much vulnerability and so much hope, I know that Idocare. I'm upset with Cole, but I'd like to think I'm not cruel. As an omega, I know all about my instincts insisting I need things and do things that, if ignored, can be torturous. But if embraced, can be magical. It's annoying and a blessing at the same time.
Finally, I nod. With painful-looking care, Jess kneels just in front of me. This close, his scent wraps around me like a cool embrace. It works into my muscles and has my eyes closing in bliss. He wets the cloth and takes the heel of my bloody foot in his hand to lift it so that he can examine the wound. I notice the tattoos along his arms and peaking out of the collar of his shirt. They’re beautiful, swirling designs.
His fingers curl around my heel, warm and gentle. He swipes the cloth along my foot to clean the bleeding cut. He shoots me an apologetic look but it hardly registers. I've built up a pretty high pain tolerance being around bees my entire life.
"I'm sorry. I'll be quick," he whispers.
When our eyes meet, an electric current snaps between us. Very reluctantly, he looks down at my heel and cleans it up. I bite my lip and try not to jerk my foot away. Then, he applies topical cream and two large bandages. I think he's done and begin to stand when he places a hand on my hip, stilling my movements and making me stay where I am. I almost ask him what he thinks he's doing when he takes my other foot in his hand, my non-injured one, and starts to wash it.
"You don't have to," I begin, but the protest is cut off with a soft moan when he rubs the inside heel with his thumb in just the right way that sends a wave of pleasure up my leg.
Jess keeps intermittently washing and rubbing. I'm guessing he didn't rub the other one because it's injured. I cannot bring myself to make him stop. It feels so good. My eyes are closed when he puts my foot down, and I hear him walking away. I deny any disappointment I may feel.
Cole is on the porch, leaning against the rail and looking at me when I open my eyes. Would he just let me be?
"Who's threatening you?"
Apparently not.
I rub my eyes. "It's personal."
His gaze darkens, and a dominant alpha growl rumbles up from his chest.
"An ex?" His question is at the edge of a bark, and it makes my omega stand up and take notice. Dominant alphas have a much harder time not barking, but they can curb it, and I won't tolerate being barked at by anyone, especially in my own home.
"No," I reply coldly. I've had several boyfriends in the past, but none lasted more than about six months. They were fine. It just never seemed necessary to try long-term.
Cole visibly untenses—just a little. He seems like he’s always at some level of tension.
"Who then?"
I roll my eyes. "Again, that's not really any of your business."
He pushes off the porch railing and walks up to me. He hunches forward, placing one hand on each arm of my porch swing, stilling me. His jaw clenches and unclenches as if he's chewing back a bark.
"Someone is threatening our mate." His voice is soft and strained. He's clearly struggling for control over his alpha. "Please, let me help you." It's the second time Cole’s said “please” in less than an hour. Another word I was sure didn't pass through his lips often.
