Page 23 of Outback Heat
We walk in silence down the centre of the empty road. The whole town is asleep, just the sound of the wind blowing through the gumtrees and the buzzing bugs bouncing off the only streetlamp. The slap of our boots echoes off the surrounding buildings and despite the exterior stillness, my internal thoughts are loud.
She explained to me how her aura sickness works. Told me in crystal clear language she channels other auras, yet I didn’t make the connection that she was feeding off me. My recklessness. My impulsivity. My utter lack of respect for my life. It didn’t matter when it was just me – I truly didn’t care if I ended up dead because of my actions. I damn well care about her, my sweet and sensitive Omega.
When we reach Ida’s front door, Matilda keeps hold of my hand. I let her, despite feeling like I’m tainting her with my touch.
“You’ll come back in the morning?” she asks, her voice still shaking from the adrenaline and biting cold.
I nod, looking everywhere but at her. “I’ll be here.”
“Why do I feel like you’re angry at me?”
My eyes snap to hers and I feel like an asshole when I see a deep crease between her brows and the confused sadness in her gaze.
“No, Spitfire. You’ve done nothing wrong, I just need to get my head straight.” I rub my thumb over the back of her hand to soothe her. Who am I kidding? There is nothing soothing about my presence. I’m all heat and fire and action. The opposite of what her aura sickness needs.
She makes a little sound of understanding but the furrow of her brows remains.
“Go inside, it’s freezing out here,” I say, gently pushing her hand towards the front door.
She sighs and shuffles backwards, her eyes still searching mine. She can tell something is wrong. It’s probably coursing through my swirling aura directly into hers, but she doesn’t press me further.
“Goodnight, Murphy,” she whispers as she slips through the unlocked screen door and disappears inside.
I listen to her take off her boots and then pad down the creaking hallway.
I scrub my hands over my face, stopping when I smell her scent on my skin. Like a deranged creep, I cup my hand over my nose and inhale deeply.
Fucking hell, she smells like every wet dream I’ve ever had, but also like home. It’s been a very long time since I’ve craved a home.
I skulk down Ida’s front steps, down the garden and out into the stillness of the night. The gate slams shut behind me, making the chain-link fence rattle loudly.
The last thing I feel like doing is sleeping. My head is full of racing thoughts and my emotions are spiralling out of control.
I’ve always been flexible with what counts as a bed, content with simply having a place to lay my head at night. Hell, tonight I’d planned on sleeping in the small bunk in my horse trailer. Matilda’s scent makes me want a proper bed. A big king sized bed with all of her nesting material and her scent woven into every fibre. I want my pretty little Omega curled up in her nest in my bed. I want her to be home.
I shake my head. I’m a fool. That’s not going to happen as long as I’m a danger to her. And yet, I know I can’t walk away. I’m her Alpha and she’s my Omega. If it was just me I’d be hurting, I wouldn’t hesitate, but it’s not just me anymore. I have to think about her. I’ve done a shitty job of protecting her so far but it’s not too late to step up and be the Alpha she deserves. I can give her what she needs.
I wander down to the rodeo grounds and rest my forearms on the fence of Bubbles’ enclosure. She eyes me with suspicion, probably wondering why I’m determined to harass her, but I feel a kinship to this horse. She’s wild, untamed and reckless.
“What am I going to do, Bubs?” I ask the horse. She blinks back at me and nickers. I nod my head like she’s given me sage advice.
I don’t need a horse to tell me what I need to do but it helps to have a living being validate my decision.
If I want to keep my Omega, I have to leave her.
Eleven
Matilda
Iwaketothesound of a magpie singing outside Ida’s guest bedroom window. It warbles a delightfully upbeat tune that doesn’t match my sullen mood.
I thought I wouldn’t be able to sleep after Murphy left last night, expected I’d stay up tossing and turning, thinking about the Alpha who’d turned my whole world upside down. However, the second my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light.
The bedroom is already being warmed by the sun, and the sheets stick to my damp skin. The spinning ceiling fan barely creates a breeze, and I let myself lay in the single sized bed to watch it turn lazily.
I thought I had Murphy figured out. He wasn’t a complex guy. I’ve always been excellent at reading people and understanding their motivations, even before my aura sickness twisted until it broke.
The moment I left Bubbles’ pen last night, I felt Murphy’s bright, sparkling aura turn sour. It was like a switch had been flicked and the light-hearted jokester was gone.
