by Lizzy Bequin
That’s strange. I’m surprised to find that she willingly worked her way into my arms during the night. But what’s even more surprising is that she was able to do it without waking me up. Normally I’m on a hair trigger. Even the slightest sound or change in air pressure will jolt me awake, claws bared and ready to kill.
But this strange girl managed to snuggle her body against mine, and I didn’t wake up at all. It’s like my primal instincts understood she posed no threat.
In fact, I still can’t shake the feeling that she and I were designed to be together. That we fit each other in a way that goes beyond any normal male-female compatibility.
I dip my face to smell her, enjoying the silky smoothness of her hair against my nose and lips.
She purrs softly in her sleep and nestles her body against mine. That’s when I realize that my cock is as hard as a lead pipe and pressed tightly against her ass. Stiff with arousal, it has popped out of the fly of my boxers, and the top of my shaft is now wedged tightly against the soft warmth of her mound.
Still asleep, she wiggles her butt against me, and my cock pulses with desire to be inside her. It takes every ounce of my self control to keep from taking her right here and now on the floor while she sleeps.
But I can’t do that to her. Not now. My churning hunger to claim her flesh is overridden by my overwhelming instinct to protect her—and that includes protecting her from myself.
Once I give in to my urges, there will be no turning back.
I fear that she couldn’t handle it. I fear that I would break her.
Gently, so as not to wake her, I scoot my body backward, leaving Amrita covered by the warm blanket. A soft exhalation of pouty disappointment escapes her sleeping lips, and she mumbles again in her sleep.
Scooping up her bundled body, I carefully place her back onto the bed, positioning a pillow beneath her head. I watch her sleeping for a while, my heart hammering with protective feelings for her.
In fact, my feelings for her are so strong, I totally forgot about the pain of my gunshot wound. I peel back my bandage to check the wound, and find it almost completely healed already, although I still have a deep ache running through my insides along the path that the bullet traveled through me. I pull the bandage off completely and drop it in the trash bin.
As I’m going around the cabin in my underwear, opening the wooden Venetian blinds to let a bit of light in, my stomach rumbles.
I head kitchen area at the far end of the cabin. I have a small refrigerator and freezer that run off the solar panels installed on a nearby rocky outcrop that gets plenty of direct sunlight. There is also a sink with running water pulled from a nearby pond and heated by a geothermal pump. The sink water is not potable, so I also have a well nearby for drinking water.
As I look over at the small wooden table, I find the remains of Amrita’s late-night meal and discover that I made the right decision buying extra food at the drive-thru. She must have eaten three cheeseburgers and a pile of fries in the middle of the night.
Hungry little kitten, isn’t she? Considering that she didn’t eat back at the hideout in the city, it makes sense. And that’s not to mention her sudden…growth spurt.
Fortunately, the slabs of bacon that I set out last night are good and thawed. If it were just me, I would have no qualms about just digging in and eating it raw. Messed up, I know, but my Alpha stomach craves raw meat.
But I’ve got company this time, so I decide to pretend to be halfway civilized.
Fortunately, despite my primal ways, I still haven’t lost the taste for a good old-fashioned bacon and eggs breakfast. I crank up the gas stove, and taking a cast-iron skillet down from the wall, I set it over the heat and get to work crisping up a whole mess of bacon. The smell of the sizzling meat fills the cabin, making my mouth water.
By the time Amrita finally starts to stir on the bed, I’ve got a heaping pile of bacon ready, and I’m whisking up some eggs to scramble in the hot fat that’s in the pan.
“Mm, smells good.” she says as she sits up and squints one sleepy eye at me.
God she looks so sultry like that with her tousled, pale-golden hair hiding hanging down and covering half of her gorgeous, naturally beautiful face. As she slides out of bed and stands up, she stretches her arms high over her head. In the process, the rumpled men’s dress shirt that she’s still wearing raises up, exposing a flash of the golden fur between her legs. She notices my downward glance, and when she suddenly remembers that she’s not wearing anything on her lower body, she quickly lowers her arms and tugs the hem of the shirt down to cover herself again. The most adorable shade of pink blooms on her cheeks.
“I don’t guess you have any pants I can borrow?” she mutters.
“Top drawer,” I nod toward the rough-hewn pine dresser in the corner.
Amrita totters over, pulling out a pair of my sweatpants, which are obviously way too big for her. But she pulls them on anyway, cinching the drawstring as tight as it will go around her narrow, hour-glass waist.
Although she totally tries to hide it, I catch her discreetly checking me out. Her eyes catch for a brief moment on my chest where my gunshot wound has all but healed.
“Hope you’re hungry,” I say as I dish up some bacon and eggs for her, along with a glass of water and a cup of coffee.
“Starving,” she answers as she plops down at the small table.
She’s not kidding either. I set the heaping plate of food in front of her and she goes to work on the bacon. You’d have no idea that she had a midnight snack of three cheeseburgers and fries.
I fix a plate for myself too and take a seat across from her. But as soon as I glance across the table, I see that she has somehow not only managed to clear her plate already, but she has also guzzled the entire glass of water I gave her. Now she’s looking up at me with those big round lavender eyes.
With a sigh, I push my plate across to her.
“Oh, I couldn’t,” she says, “Really, Conway, I’m full. I—“
“Shut up,” I grunt as I stand back up and refill her glass from a big jug of well water. “You know you want it. You’re a growing girl. I’ll fix more.”
She concedes and starts eating her second plate of bacon and eggs. At least this time she’s not inhaling it. I grab some more eggs from the fridge for myself, realizing that the food supply is probably not going to last as long as I had calculated.
“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so hungry,” she says between chews.
I crack more eggs into a bowl and start whisking them together.
“Your body has changed a lot, and it’s still changing a little,” I say with a shrug. “I guess that requires fuel.”
Amrita stops munching on her bacon and looks down at the bulge of her bust, which is straining against the fabric of the wrinkled, slept-in dress shirt. It seems like that shirt might be fitting even slightly tighter today.
“Conway, what is happening to me?” she asks, a hint of real worry in her voice.
The mixed eggs sizzle as I pour the viscous, pale yellow liquid into the skillet.
“No clue, sugar. I guess you’re just a late bloomer.”
Shit. As soon as the words have tumbled out of my mouth, I realize just how insensitive they sound, and I wish I could grab them and shove them back inside.
I glance over at Amrita. She’s stopped eating, and she’s glaring at me, her eyes wet with trembling tears, her cheeks red, her chin dimpling as she struggles to hold her emotions inside.
This girl’s been through living hell these past few days, some of it at my own hands, and all I can think to say is some dumb, insensitive joke? Nice, Conway. Real nice.
“Listen, Amrita, I’m sorry.”
I step toward her and rest a conciliatory hand on her small shoulder, but she jerks away as if my hand is on fire.
“Don’t touch me,” she snaps as the tears start rolling down her cheeks.
The loathing in her eyes and in her voice hurts me like a t
wisting dagger. In the past couple of days I’ve been shot twice and I’ve had one knock-down, drag-out fight with my former partner. But none of it hurts half as much as the spite she feels for me now.
And I deserve every bit of it.
Letting my hand fall to my side, I hang my head, unable to look at her accusing, tear-stained face a moment longer.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, “It was a shitty thing to say.”
“Your eggs are burning,” she says coldly.
Shit, she’s right. I didn’t even smell it because I was so focused on her. She’s been having that effect on me a lot recently. And that could be dangerous for both of us. I need to keep my mind clear.
Leaping back to the stove, I yank the skillet off the heat, scalding my hand on the hot handle in the process. I wince as I pull it away. That’s what I get for being a prick, I guess. I slip my hand into an oversized oven mitt before touching the handle again. Then I scoop out the overcooked eggs onto a dish, grab some bacon and take a seat at the table once again.
I nibble at the bacon thoughtfully, crunching the crispy meat between my teeth. I’d forgotten how good cooked food can be.
Amrita smears away her tears with the back of her hand and sniffs back her emotion, stuffing it deep down inside again.
“Listen,” I say, picking at my burnt eggs. “I’ve been thinking about what’s been going on with you. With your body. The best I can figure is that these changes are some kind of innate genetic traits that have been suppressed all this time by the medication your father was giving you. When did you first start taking that medicine?”
She shrugs silently, eyes on her plate, and scoops a forkful of eggs into her mouth. She’s still pissed at me. Understandably so.
“By any chance, was it around the time you started menstruating?” I ask.
Amrita damn near chokes on the eggs she’s eating. I push her glass of water toward her. She ignores it, choosing to drink her coffee instead. Lavender eyes glare at me over the rim of the cup as she takes a big gulp.
“Twelve,” she says, setting the empty mug down with a clunk on the wooden table. “So yeah, I guess it was around the time I got my first period. Do you have any other embarrassing personal questions for me?”
I nab her empty cup and walk back to the stove to fill it up again.
“I’m just trying to get to the bottom of this,” I say as the hot liquid gurgles into the mug, tendrils of steam curling from the surface. “What about your mother? Does she have any unusual traits?”
I place the coffee in front of her and sit back down. Amrita just stares into the black, steaming surface of the coffee like it’s a window to the past.
“Amrita?”
She blows away the curling steam and drags the cup toward her, not drinking it. Just clutching it in both of her small hands.
“Mom died when I was really young. I don’t remember her.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. When she doesn’t respond, I prod her a little more. “You must have seen pictures of her. Did she look like you?”
“Yes, I’ve seen pictures,” Amrita says angrily. “If you’re talking about my magical overnight boob job, then no, she didn’t look like that.”
She’s still pissed, and she’s taking it out on me any way she can.
“I wasn’t talking about anything in particular,” I say. “I just meant in general. Do you favor her or your dad?”
She shakes her head and takes another thoughtful sip of coffee.
“I didn’t look anything like her,” she says. “Mom was Indian. She had rich, brown skin and long wavy black hair. She was really beautiful. At least in the pictures I’ve seen.”
“Indian?”
“Yeah,” she says with a faint smile. “That’s where I got my name.”
While it’s certainly possible, I find it a little hard to believe that the fair-skinned girl with wheat blond hair and lavender eyes sitting across from me came from an Indian mother. I’ve seen her dad, and she certainly doesn’t look like him either. His hair and complexion are dark. I guess it’s possible. But it seems like something is up.
“Could you be adopted?” I wonder aloud.
Immediately I wince, realizing I’ve just been insensitive again. That’s a touchy as hell question, and I just blurted it out like it was no big deal. But to my surprise, Amrita doesn’t seem upset.
“I guess I kind of was” she says. “When I was younger, I thought the same thing you did. When I confronted my dad about whether I’d been adopted, he told me that my mom had problems with infertility, so they did in vitro fertilization.”
“A donor egg implanted in your mother?”
She nods.
“Yeah, something like that. I guess I don’t know exactly how it works. So anyway, I guess technically she wasn’t my biological mom, but she still carried me and gave birth to me. Dad even has pictures of when she was pregnant and pictures of her holding me at the hospital after I was born and everything.”
She gets a little choked up and looks away. She’s probably thinking about her dad and wondering if he’s looking for her. I figure that now would be a bad time to press her on the source of that donor egg. Hell, she probably doesn’t even know anyway. I decide to lighten the topic a little without changing it completely.
“How did your parents meet each other? Do you know?”
“Before my Dad became a doctor, he was a scientist,” she says, nibbling on her last piece of bacon. “So was my mom. They were working together on some kind of project. For the government, I think. I don’t know all the details about it.” She shrugs again. “Anyway, that’s how they met.”
Her pretty eyes get a little rounder, and I see those lovely, lavender irises narrow as her pupils dilate.
“Is that what this is all about?” she asks. “Were my parents involved in something…top secret?”
“Maybe.”
I push my chair back and stand up, rubbing the short growth of beard on my chin. The government research angle certainly seems meaningful. Maybe the doctor knows something he shouldn’t. Or maybe he’s got some knowledge that Omicron wants to get hold of. But then why kidnap the girl? Why not just nab the doctor himself?
I need to think.
More important, I need to check the perimeter to make sure the property is secure. I have placed motion sensors and cameras covering an approximately ten acre span around the cabin. I don’t think anybody would ever fuck with me out here. Hell, I don’t even think anyone knows about this place.
Then again, you can never be too safe.
I go to the dresser and start getting dressed—a pair of jeans and a henley shirt. As I’m lacing up my hiking boots, I glance up to see Amrita watching me.
“When you’re done eating, just put your dishes in the sink,” I tell her. “I’ll wash them later. Don’t drink from the tap. If you get thirsty, you can drink from those glass jugs. That should be enough water for now. I’ll grab more from the well later.”
“Where are you going?” she asks. She sounds more nervous than excited about the prospect of being left alone.
I stand up and walk toward her, placing my hand on her shoulder again. This time she doesn’t jerk away from me.
“I’m not going far,” I tell her. “Just gotta check some things around the property. Can I trust you not to do anything stupid, like trying to run away?”
She nods, her eyes big and full.
“Why don’t you take me with you?” she asks. “I promise I won’t get in the way.”
“Sorry, kiddo, but I want you inside the cabin where it’s safe.”
She rolls her eyes.
“It’s not like I’ve never been in the woods before,” she groans. “Are you worried I’m gonna get eaten by a bear or something?”
I grab my heavy flannel shirt that’s hanging by the door and pull it on.
“Look, I’m ninety-nine percent sure that nobody knows we’re out here,” I say, “But I don’t want to take any chances. If so
mebody tries to ambush us again, I don’t want you to get caught out in the open.”
She sighs and rests her cheek on her hand, pouting.
“So what, I just have to sit in the cabin all day?” she asks.
“It’s for your own safety,” I tell her as I tuck my pistol into the back of my jeans.
I pause, trying to think of the best way to phrase the next things I want to say.
“Besides, you’ve got your…you know…your needs to attend to. You should take care of that while I’m gone. Can I trust you to do that for me?”
That beautiful, deep, rosy blush enters her cheeks again, but she nods.
“Good girl.”
I pull on my camo ball cap and open the door. Before I step outside, I turn to her one more time.
“If you try to run, I’ll track you down and catch you,” I say with a hint of growl in my voice. I don’t like scaring her, but I need her to stay put. “We’re miles away from anyone else. I can follow your scent, and I can move a hell of a lot faster and farther than you. There’s nowhere for you to run. Understand?”
She just stares at me. The look on her face makes me think she’s fantasizing about jamming her fork straight into my eyeball.
“Understand?” I repeat.
I put a bit more snarl into my voice this time, startling her enough to make her jerk in her seat.
She nods again, still pouting.
“Yeah,” she answers in a hushed voice. “I understand.”
CHAPTER 17: AMRITA
As soon as Conway has shut the cabin door behind him, I shoot the bird in his direction.
For my safety? Give me a break. That sounds just like something my dad would say.
Then again, I remind myself, my dad was pretty much right to be paranoid about my safety. I disobeyed him one time and sneaked out of the house, and just look at the mess that has landed me in. All of this crap could have been avoided if I had just followed the rules.
You know what? Fuck that actually. Whatever this is all about, it was obviously bound to happen sooner or later. And I can’t shake the feeling that my dad was hiding some details about my past.
