Page 22 of Omega Untamed
I scrambled awkwardly to a standing position, hopping once as my sore toe throbbed from any weight put on that bare foot. My broken finger was numb, luckily. Dazed, thirsty, I still had the wherewithal to back as silently as possible behind the tree and move away from the clearing. I ducked behind a large bush with little white flowers. I had no idea what the plant was, or even if it might be poisonous, but I had bigger problems right now.
If the thing in the forest was Bast coming back for me, that would be wonderful. Or, if not wonderful, better than nothing. But I couldn’t count on that. My trust in anything good happening for me right now was running low at this point.
He did say he’d be back. But he was also a gangster. Someone who committed crimes and looked out for himself first. And obeyed his boss’s orders.
I crouched down, wincing at my toe again, my body shivering from the adrenalin of what I might see come crashing into the clearing. My face itched. My body felt grubby and hot, yet cold and damp at the same time. My jeans were totally soiled, but dry at least, and I was beyond being embarrassed about that right now.
I waited. The sounds went soft, then loud again, as if whoever it was hesitated. I held my breath and closed my eyes, counting to ten. It was a stupid habit but it had helped me through bad times when I was a kid, and now counting seemed like a good idea.
I heard it come into the pile of leaves at the break of the clearing where Bast and I had stumbled along. Slowly, I opened my eyes.
The Alpha stood there glancing around, a sour look of disbelief creasing his forehead and narrowing his eyes. His knee-length coat had been cleaned—or it was a brand new one—and he had changed his clothing underneath as well. The shirt and trousers looked new and shiny black.
“Fuck!” The word reverberated through the air like a shotgun blast.
“Bast,” I croaked. I started to stand up.
He cocked his head in my direction. “Kee?”
“I’m over here.”
He ran toward me just as I came out from behind the bush, and steadied me with a hand on my upper arm. It squeezed tighter than was comfortable, but I took comfort from the touch anyway.
“What are you doing?” He practically growled.
“I heard something coming. I wasn’t sure it was you, so I hid.”
“Of course. Yes. That was smart.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you well? Can you walk with me out of here?”
He wasn’t one for niceties, I noted. Straight to the point.
“I don’t know.” My feet were bare and hurting. And I was dying of thirst. I couldn’t recall how long it had taken us to hike in here from the road. Ten minutes I might be able to do. An hour? No.
Bast let go of me and stepped back, swinging a small pack from his shoulder. He deftly opened it and handed me a bottle of water. “Here. Drink this.”
I grabbed it with my good hand but fumbled to unscrew the cap.
“Give it to me.” Bast grabbed it and opened it for me.
I downed almost three-quarters of the contents in a few long gulps.
“Slow down a little,” Bast said.
I was half-hung over and tired and in pain. And probably still in shock. I couldn’t slow down if I tried.
Bast brought out something that looked like a candy bar. My stomach was unreasonable about that, tightening at the sight of it, upset as if I’d eaten a meal that didn’t agree. I shook my head.
“For instant energy. It’s here if you need it.” Bast threw it back into the bag, then reached in and pulled out a pair of blue, soft booties.
For a moment I thought I was dreaming. Not a nightmare—or daymare—this time. But a real dream of something soft and comforting. This man had obviously brought these slippers with me in mind. And they were brand new because the tags were still on them.
“These should cushion your feet for the walk. I wasn’t sure you’d be ready for shoes and anyway I didn’t know your size. These are a large.”
“They will be fine.” I tossed my empty water bottle aside, which Bast immediately picked up with a frown, and took them, reaching down and putting one on my sore foot to see how it felt.
