Page 8 of One Way Out

“Come on now, mate,” Conrad calls out from his cell. “Don’t get yourself into an even worse bind. And don’t hurt the pretty lass that fucker just locked you in with. That’s the last thing you’d want if you were yourself.”

Valor growls.

“Fucking lunatic.” McCabe raises a hand, flipping him off.

“He’s sick!” I snap, jabbing a finger at the bars. “Don’t talk about him like that!”

The guard mutters something under his breath and heads for the exit.

I frown and cross my arms over my chest. My toes curl and unfurl as my fingers twitch. I rock on my sore heels, trying to calm down enough to stop myself from stimming. There are very important things going on. I don’t have time to give in to the urge. It’s a coping mechanism and a way I self-soothe, but once I get into the stim too deeply, I tend to zone out.

That can’t happen right now.

McCabe said the doctor is on her way, meaning it’s an emergency to get Valor’s attention focused back on me.

My feet are freezing from standing on the bare concrete, and my gaze bounces between the terrible bed and the blanket McCabe shoved through the bars.

I bet a little of Valor’s body warmth would help tremendously.

My thoughts end up a jumbled mess as I try to determine how to make him let me get close…without him accidentally hurting me.

Alphas purr to comfort omegas.

Omegas, in turn, have special pheromones we can release to soothe ourselves or our chosen alphas. Closing my eyes, I focus on taking several deep breaths while concentrating on wanting to calm myself and my alpha.

I’ve tried over the years but never managed. At the time, I attributed my inability to produce those pheromones to the fact I was taking suppressants.

God, I hope that’s the case.

Maybe I’m just broken, and I’ll never be able to have that particular skill?

No, stop it! Focus, dammit.

Several long seconds pass, and a warmth fills my chest, echoing out through my nerve endings.

A slow smile crosses my face as my nose twitches. Based on the fact I can now smell my pheromones over the overpowering stench of human blood, I think it worked.

Valor’s back is still to me, and I approach slowly, but not quietly enough. One second, I’m eyeing the back of his head, and the next, his tattooed hand is wrapped around my throat. He lifts me into the air, and my back slams against the bars of the cell.

I squeak, my hands flying to his forearm as I claw at his skin. His hold tightens on my neck, and I fight against the overwhelming fear.

“Hey,” I choke out.

The bars don’t feel great against my backside, but he didn’t use his full force. I know that much without a doubt.

He slides a knee between mine, and it only takes another second to realize he’s not strangling me. Sure, he’s applying a decent amount of pressure to my throat, but I can still breathe.

“Bad move, little omega,” he growls in his thick Scottish accent. His nostrils flare as his head tilts, and he gets close to my cheek. I’m torn between being grateful he formed actual words and concerned over why he’s baring his teeth so close to my face. His nose teases down my cheek as he applies firmer pressure to my neck. “You smell…wrong.”

The sides of my vision go hazy, but I’m still able to breathe if I take shallow breaths. Every instinct in my system is buzzing and trying to convince me to panic and flee, but they can shut the hell up. I have a job to do.

His hold on my throat tightens, and it’s clear I have to do something.

“Valor, you know me. I came in here to helpyou,” I manage to rasp out.

“But you reek of another alpha?” His free hand lands on my hip, and he yanks my bottom half closer to his pelvis while keeping hold of my throat with the other.

He pulls back enough to stare straight into my eyes, and I grimace, not because of his words but because of the black eye he’s still sporting from when he saved me the first day. The cut in his eyebrow was staying closed on its own before he got into the tussle at the court, and now it’s open again, along with one on his other cheek.

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