Page 48 of Stuck with my Pack
My stomach clenches, and intense cramps wrack my body, making me double over.
No. Not now.
Not here.
I stumble forward, trying to focus, trying to push through the weight pressing down on my chest. My hands shake as I grab onto a low branch for balance. My breath comes faster, ragged, my vision swimming.
I whimper, my body reacting before my mind can catch up. Heat coils low in my belly, desperate and needy. The thought of Ethan, Tyler, and Brodie finding me like this makes my thighs press together involuntarily.
I need to get back. I need to?—
My foot catches on a buried root, and suddenly, the ground disappears.
I’m falling for what feels like forever.
The impact knocks the air from my lungs. The cold rushes in, swallowing me whole.
Snowflakes land on my cheeks, melting instantly against the fever burning beneath my skin. My limbs feel too heavy to move, my body shivering violently now.
Get up. Move.
But I can’t.
The heat is pulling me under, sinking into my bones. My scent is everywhere, clouding my thoughts, calling for them.
I can’t?—
A voice, faint and distant, drifts through the trees. My name.
Then darkness.
21
BRODIE
The second I step into the inn, something feels wrong.
I expect to see Sophie curled up by the fire, her scent thick in the air, waiting for me. But the room is empty, the hearth still crackling, and the space feels too still.
I inhale deeply— her scent should be everywhere—sweet, grounding, thick with that tantalizing edge of heat she’s been fighting. But it’s faded. Too faint.
My muscles lock up, instincts flaring sharp and vicious.
She’s been gone too long.
My head snaps toward the door. Cold air rushes in as I step outside, the sharp bite of winter doing nothing to dull the fire roaring through my veins. Then I smell it—her.
Not just her scent. Her heat.
It hits me like a fist to the chest, thick and uncontained, weaving through the snow like a beacon. Fuck.
My instincts propel me forward, lethal and possessive. My pulse pounds against my skull as my nostrils flare, trying to track where she’s gone. She’s out here—alone. In heat. Vulnerable.
I call her name once. My voice comes out rough, more growl than words.
No answer.
The silence claws at me, worse than any nightmare I’ve ever had. My fingers tighten into fists as I yank my phone from my pocket, my breath coming fast, fogging in the cold air. My thumbs move on instinct, every second stretching too long.
