Page 120 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys
That Beta from Eros said I was lucky.
Most Omegas would be happy to have ‘found’ their mates.
But… that wasn’t me. Not if I couldn’t have what my grandparents had. Not if I couldn’t have that wonderful ‘this is how we met’ story to tell at every gathering. I wanted forever with one right person. I wanted to find a house together and fill it with laughter, quirky purchases, beloved photos. I wanted a daughter who danced. I wanted a son who played chess.
And I wanted those things when I was ready for them. When my ballet career had been full and long and come to a natural close.
Since I couldn’t have those things, then I’d rather pretend to be a Beta forever. No expectations from society. Different limitations, but ones I welcomed. I’d make enough to live comfortably. I’d find happiness solo.
I couldn’t even have that kind of life.
Because fate was fashioned from unfailing viciousness. It was a sadist, through and through.
I’d been harvested, applied a market value, and sold to deep pocket buyers. An Omega bride, to complete their pack. To do my duty. Match. Mate. Mother. This line of thinking made my jaw clench, teeth grinding together.
Maybe I should just pee on the floor. Maybe I should jump out of the window again.
Maybe I should just hold my bladder until something foul happened to my body. Urine toxicity. Was that a thing?
I pressed my forehead against the cool wood of the door, listening. Soft, steady breathing. Someone was definitely out there. My humiliation from last night crystallized into fresh anger. They really were still guarding me, treating me like a prisoner after forcing all that bullshit about respecting my autonomy and after seeming so scared for me last night. They’d acted so relieved that I was safe. Wade had so tenderly cleaned my wounds and wrapped them after my bath, yet to them I was still their plaything, caged for the keeping. Last night, the way Levi had given me his jacket arrowed to my heart, piercing irrevocably, yet now it made me feel betrayed.
God, I hated this. I hated them.
Fuck them. Fuck the "protection" and the fake "concern" and the gentle hands tending my wounds! If I had to piss, I was going to piss, and I wasn't going to cower in this room until my bladder ruptured just to avoid them. And if I wanted to try to run away again, I’d just be smarter about it. I’d plan more carefully. I’d lull them into thinking I was willing to stay. And, when their guards were down, I’d bolt. Hell, I’d find where they kept the truck keys. That would be so much easier.
I yanked the door open, chin lifted defiantly, ready to glare down whoever stood watching.
My plan died at the sight of Boone. Seeing him sent a pang through my heart that had nothing to do with fury. I couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop it.
He sat on the floor directly across from my door, long legs crisscrossed. His head was tilted back against the wall, eyes closed and thick lashes casting shadows on his high cheekbones. His glossy black hair was pulled over one shoulder in a neat braid, the end of it curling against his lap. He wore a plain white shirt and loose jeans. Massive arms crossed over an equally impressive chest; the muscles defined even in repose. He was a mountain of a man. Nothing soft in sight. As he slept, his glands were producing the loveliest scent—campfire, dark cocoa, cinnamon and a salty undertone of sweat. I found myself inhaling deeply despite myself, my inner Omega pushing me to get closer.
Boone hadn’t stirred at the sound of the door opening, his breathing rhythmic. My gaze lingered on his face, though I tried to look away. I wanted to run a finger down the bridge of his carved nose and plant a kiss on his full lips which were slightly parted while sleeping. His expression was unguarded, free of the fluctuating emotions I’d seen on it since meeting him. He was incredibly handsome.
A primal part of me responded with fluttering awareness that infuriated me. I’d come here against my will, and I had the distinct feeling that if I leaned into my Omega desires, I’d stay by choice. And that wasn’t fucking happening.
I had to remind myself that his looks and my desire didn’t excuse what he’d done. What they’d all done.
And yet, looking at his sleeping face, I couldn't summon the burning hatred I wanted to feel. Just exhaustion, resignation, and the increasingly urgent need to empty my bladder before I embarrassed myself completely.
I eased out of the room, taking a right. I whispered down the hall with the practiced silence of a dancer, my toes gripping the floorboards to distribute my weight evenly. Still, the floor creaked slightly, as floors in old homes tend to do. I went to the restroom I’d snuck into yesterday during the day, not the different one from last night.
No one appeared as I made the short journey.
I wondered where the other men were. The house felt too quiet.
Though I was trying to be light-footed, a floorboard groaned loudly beneath my weight. The sound shot into the silence. I froze, heart hammering, and glanced back at Boone. He was still caught in sleep, peaceful and unaware of my movement. The man was exhausted, even his Alpha instincts dulled. He should have heard that sound. He should smell my anxiety.
But if he was sleeping so soundly, and the other Alphas were nowhere to be seen, maybe I should find those truck keys. They wouldn’t expect another escape attempt so soon, especially not in the daytime.
If my freaking bladder wasn’t screaming at me, I’d do it.
I really hate my body sometimes.
I continued forward, pushing into the bathroom.
Slipping inside, I locked the door with a soft click. I darted to the toilet, struggling to pull down the taut swimmers and knotted boxers. Finally, ass settled on the toilet lid, I allowed my body to relax. The relief of emptying my bladder was so intense it bordered on painful, my body trembling as the pressure released. Physical relief flooded me, momentarily overshadowing everything else—the ache of injuries, the confusion of my situation, the burning determination to escape.
Before in this bathroom, I’d been in such a hurry that I hadn’t looked around properly.
