Page 34 of One for the Money
Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.
Maybe that’s what I should do, instead of trying to run away.
What would I need to do to stay there forever? For my mind to leave my body behind and exist in the stillness that is my utopia?
“Why the fuck is this light on?” Jude’s rough voice fills the tent, slamming the gate shut on my paddock and forcing me to leave my meadow behind. I jerk out of the water and clamor to my feet in the tub. “You assholes better have a good reason since it woke me the fuck up!” It takes a moment for him to notice me, standing fully clothed and dripping wet on the other side of the tent. I step slowly out of the giant metal basin, my teeth chattering and my arms wrapping around my body.
He’ll think it’s the cold.
Not that it’s very cold outside, and the water was room temperature, but that’s the easiest explanation, and the one his brain will no doubt latch onto.
My medical bag is by his feet, so I stoop to grab it as I pass him. Jude’s massive hand lands on my shoulder, and I can’t hold back my whine as I jerk away from him.
It’s a battle not to run to my meadow again. But I push down the urge, instead focusing on leaning across the fence, peering into the space but not crossing the threshold.
He swears and starts to apologize for touching me, but I don’t hear him over the sound of fresh running water and neighing horses.
I keep walking.
I walk to my trailer, to my nest, and hope that there I am safe.
It appears that I will never escape men who think I owe them something just for existing. It’s always going to be the same.
Same trauma, different territory.
As I climb the stairs to my trailer, I resist the urge to turn around.
I know without looking that Jude has followed me.
Prey always knows when it’s being stalked.
Chapter 13
The metal doorslams loudly behind Alex, and I stare at it for longer than appropriate.
What the fuck was that? What was she doing in that tent?
I look down at my hands, remembering the way she flinched away from them. What kind of pain has she encountered at the end of hands like mine to make her react so viscerally to them?
I’ve seen that reaction before, but I never thought I would be the one to cause it.
I wish she would talk to me. Would tell me why she was in that tent, why she seemed so shell-shocked.
I know better than to assume that she decided to take a three a.m. cold bath fully clothed.
Something happened, and she doesn’t want to talk about it.
Except, we’re strangers. And I’ve not exactly been the most welcoming person. I don’t want to force her to talk, but if something is happening in my circus, with my team, I need to know.
Should I push the issue? Bang on her door and demand that she tell me more about what went down there? I can’t help her if I don’t know what I am protecting her from.
I may not want an Omega here, but I still have to keep her safe, and it’s going to be impossible if I don’t know what the threat is.
Orwhothe threat is.
Anxiety causes bile to churn in my gut, memories of my adolescence threatening to make themselves known. Times when I could do nothing but look on helplessly.
I’m not a fucking moron. The story she fed to me about her parents was probably true… for someone. But not for Alex. That’s not why she’s here. And maybe none of the others have realized it, but if I needed any further confirmation, tonight was it.
