Page 15 of Into the Fire: After
Hence the need to slice open my omega like I was gutting a damn fish.
“Broooooks,” she said, impatience in her tone.
“Can’t we just stick it under your tongue? Up your butt like in the movies?”
“While normally I’d jump at any chance to let you fondle me,” Taryn said, “there’s no way I’m not getting searched, so the obvious places—vag, butt, mouth—are out. So we create—”
“A less obvious orifice,” I intoned. “Right.”
A tiny slit behind her ear. Hidden by her hair, hopefully where they wouldn’t look too hard. Just big enough to slide the teensy shrink-wrapped microchip into. Any bruising or swelling, the cut itself, could be explained by the whole ordeal of fleeing into the woods mid-heat.
The thing was no bigger than my pinkie nail. The cut needed only to be that size. Still, the thought of intentionally harming her had me ready to puke like it was my first day of med school all over again.
Taryn sighed, turning to face me. She put her hands on either side of my face and leaned in to give me a gentle kiss. When she pulled away, her eyes were kind, all airs of mocking or impatience gone.
I swallowed. “If I do this,” I whispered, voice hoarse, “it means I’m really letting you hand yourself over to them.”
She nodded. “It means we’re both doing everything in our power to get our alphas back,” she replied, voice equally soft. “If they’d actually snatched me back at the cabin, I know all four of you would be tripping over yourselves to get inside and get me out. I can’t do any less for them now.”
Damn, she was sexy when she was making sense. Infuriating, sure. But sexy as hell. I kissed her again. Once on her lips, once on her temple. Then I gently turned her back around with a hand on her shoulder. She pulled her hair out of the way. With a deep breath, I thought of England and raised the knife again to prick her skin.
She gave only the slightest flinch. Good. I couldn’t have carried on if she’d done any more.
“Tilt your head a little more,” I muttered through a thick throat, guiding her to bend more so her hair would hang out of the way. Her blood stained my fingertips as I did my best to gently glide the tiny rectangle into the newly formed skin pocket behind her ear. And did my best to ignore the small sounds of discomfort that Taryn was now unable to stifle.
“Okay,” I said a minute later. “I think you’re set.”
I helped her stand up, making sure that she didn’t get a head rush from readjusting too quickly. I dabbed at the red trail of blood marring the skin of her neck and finger-combed her hair,inspecting to see if the wound was visible. I gave a nod, my stomach churning. “Well.”
Taryn sighed, squeezing my hands. “Well.”
I pulled her into my chest, burying my nose in her dirty hair and inhaling as deeply as I could. I wanted her scent imprinted on my soul. “Out of the pan, as they say.”
“And into the fryer,” she finished.
I wanted so badly to laugh.Fryer, huh?I’d say.
Hell yeah, fryer,she’d respond.If I’m burning, you best believe I’m gonna be fried like an onion.
Or a cheese stick,I’d laugh.
Either way, I'll be hot and delicious.
The jokes, the banter wouldn’t come. Couldn’t come.
She pulled back, eyes damp. “Promise me you’ll stay and find Brea,” she said.
She’d been worried the bad guys had found Brea, but considering we hadn’t yet been swarmed by goons with guns, that seemed unlikely. Which opened up an entirely different can of worms of what could’ve happened to our alpha.
I nodded. “I won’t leave without her.”
She nodded again. “I love you, Brooks.”
I swallowed, looking downward to hide the tears stinging in my eyes.
Damn you, Taryn.
“Yeah, well, I guess I like you fine,” I said, striving for something resembling cheeky.
