Page 95 of Stalked By the Alphas
I pull up in front of the Victorian house, scanning the area to make sure no one sees me. The last thing I need is for word to get back to Hazel that I’m here. Quickly, I hop out of the SUV and make my way to the side gate, letting myself into the back garden.
The package is there, half caught in a hedge. I grab it and tuck it under my arm before heading back to the car.
For half a second, I debate if I should go to her now, but I stick to my own plan. Showing admirable restraint, I set off back to the hotel, nervous about seeing Hazel tomorrow and dreading the twenty-four hour wait until I can set my ego aside and lay my feelings for her on the table once and for all.
54
HAZEL
Openingthe front door to my house, my legs are still shaky from what transpired with Zach a couple of hours ago. What have I done? After everything, how could I let myself give in like that?
But God, it felt so good. So right. For those few blissful minutes, I forgot all the pain and betrayal. I was just an omega with an alpha, revelling in the pleasure and connection. I get it now, and it’s not something I can deny myself any longer. But.
But, but, but.
I feel bad about leaving Delia to close up the shop, but she was her usual helpful self and even looked pleased rather than worried that I’ve left her in charge. I was so worried that the other two alphas would arrive that I had to get out of there. I don’t think my restraint, such as it is, would hold out against all three of them after that encounter with Zach.
I collapse onto my sofa, my mind whirling withconflicting emotions. Part of me wants to call Zach, to feel his arms around me again. But another part is screaming at me to run, to protect myself from further hurt.
My body still tingles from Zach’s touch, and I can smell his scent on my skin. Part of me wants to scrub it off, to erase all evidence of my moment of weakness. But another part wants to wrap myself in it, to lose myself in the memory of his hands on me, his cock thrusting deep inside me.
“Stop it,” I mutter, standing up and heading for the kitchen. I need a shower and a stiff drink, not necessarily in that order.
It’s only when I get to the kitchen doorway that I freeze and remember that only two days ago, I was abducted, shoved in a cupboard, stripped, assaulted and a witness to two brutal murders.
My knees give way, and I clutch at the wall for support. Leah. I need to ring her to see how she is. Even in my state of shock and terror, I could see that she has suffered, worse than I have. Doing what I do best, I shove the trauma into a mental box and sigh when I realise, I don’t have her number.
Someone I know does, though.
Noah.
Too bad, I don’t have his number either.
God, this is a shitshow. In a huff, I pull the bottle of vodka out of the cupboard that I opened last Christmas. Uncapping it, I pour a generous glug straight up into aglass and lift it to my lips. The sharp scent hits my nostrils, but I take a deep breath and knock it back.
The vodka burns as it goes down, but I welcome the sensation. It’s something real, something I can focus on besides the mess in my head. I pour another glass, but this time, I sip it more slowly, letting the alcohol warm me from the inside out.
As the vodka takes effect, my thoughts drift back to Zach. The way he looked at me, like I was the most precious thing in the world. The feel of his hands on my skin, his lips on mine. For a moment, I allow myself to imagine what it would be like if things were different. If they hadn’t betrayed me, if we could have had a real chance.
But one moment of passion doesn’t erase all the bad, no matter how good it feels.
And yet... I can’t deny the connection I felt with Zach. The rightness of it, even in the midst of all this chaos. It’s like my body recognised something my mind is still struggling to accept.
I groan in frustration, downing the rest of my drink. Why can’t things be simple? Why can’t I just hate them and be done with it?
A knock at the door startles me out of my reverie. For a moment, panic grips me. Is it Zach? Or worse, all three of them? I’m not ready to face any of them right now.
Cautiously, I approach the door, peering through the peephole. To my surprise, I see Leah standing there,nervous, wringing her hands as she waits. I yank open the door and stare at her.
“Leah. Fancy a drink?” I ask and step back, already on my way back to the vodka, as she hesitates and lets herself in.
“Sure,” she murmurs.
“Vodka okay? I’m downing it neat.”
“Sounds ideal.”
I pour us both a shot that sinks the level in the bottle to under halfway and hand her the glass. I raise mine. “Here’s to being free.”
