Page 25 of Snows Sinful Seven

I don’t want to leave her. I don’t want her out of my sight. She’s my mate. My omega. And I guess my whole packs’? My brother might not have said anything, but the guilty look on his face is all the confirmation I need. She’s his mate, too.

Whatever happened to her last night, it’s my fault. Of all the nights I choose not to go to the palace wall, she gets hurt. I feel gutted—a guilt so strong it hurts.

I won’t let that happen again.

Chapter 7

Snow

That just might have been the best night's sleep of my life. There’s a smile on my face, and I sigh happily, my eyes fluttering open as I slowly wake up.

As I stare at the ceiling, I blink, then frown.This isn’t what the ceiling in my bedroom looks like. Did I end up falling asleep elsewhere?

I take slow, shallow breaths, and an unfamiliar scent fills my nose. Why do I find it oddly comforting? It’s like a cedarwood and jasmine mix.

Moving to sit up, my eyes go wide when I realize not only am I not in my room, I’m not even in the palace.

Everything comes crashing back down on me like a wave during a violent storm. Regina coming to my room to tell me the horrifying news. My father wanting me dead.

Her helping me leave, the guard finding us, me running through the forest lost for hours.

Then me stumbling into this cottage, tired, wet, and hungry.

My heart starts to race as worry fills me. Are the people who live here home? Did they see me and call the police? Oh gods, I hope not.

As panic starts to slowly fill me, I take a look around the room. It’s large, like big enough for a giant.

Okay, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but whoever’s room this is, they must be a big person.

The walls are made of wood, and there are a few pieces of furniture, but otherwise, it’s empty. I glance down to the blanket covering me and smile. It’s a red knitted blanket. It looks like whoever made this put a lot of time and love into it.

Bringing it up to my face, I snuggle into the softness, sighing happily at the smell. I love soft things. Blankets, socks, you name it.

My room back home is littered with pillows and a number of different blankets.

My room. Home.

Sorrow hits me hard as my shoulders droop. I very well may never get to see those things again. I know they’re just materialistic items but they were special to me.

As melancholy fills me, I pull the blanket off and slide out of the bed. I shiver, the cold air hitting my skin, and I remember I’m only in my bra and panties. Very dirty bra and panties.

Biting my lip, I look around the room for something to cover myself. Not seeing anything, I grab the blanket off the bed and wrap it around my body.

Opening the door slowly, I peek my head out, listening to see if anyone is out there. I’m met with only silence.

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