Page 5 of Laurels and Liquor

“You did this.”

“Ungrateful bitch.”

“Omega whore.”

Hands shake me hard around the shoulders, dragging me out from under the fog of sleep. Someone’s screaming, a blood-curdling sound that fills the air. I fight and struggle, but my hands get caught in something. My heart kicks in my chest, the screaming getting louder—

“Omega, stop.”

My body locks up at the command, and it’s only when the screaming stops that I realize I was the one doing it. Alpha barks usually feel like ice water crashing down on me, and while there’s a moment of frigid shock, glowing, soothing warmth takes its place almost instantly. I open my eyes, and I realize I’m on my back, Mateo kneeling over me with panic written on every line of his face.

The compulsion of his bark slides away, and he shakes his head, like he’s trying to rid himself of the sensation as well. My throat is raw and my deep inhales ache. I try to move, but I’ve managed to twist myself up in a blanket, and I don’t know where to begin extracting my limbs. Swallowing hard, I frantically pull and twist as the panic sets in, but Mateo is there, steady hands helping me escape. I try to move away, but a gentle hold on my wrist stops me before I can get far. I look up to see Mateo’s fawn-colored eyes soft with an emotion I don’t dare name. Glancing away, unable to stand it, I find Lucas and Lex nearby, concern pulling at their features.

“You were having a nightmare,” Mateo says simply.

Not looking at him, I instead focus on the emerald green blanket pooled around me, but regret it instantly. This was Rhett’s first gift to me. I try to pull my arm free of Mateo’s grip, but he just holds a little tighter. How can he stand to touch me right now, especially after what I did to his best friend?

“Talk to us, baby,” Mateo pleads.

“Don’t shut us out, sweetheart. Please,” Lucas whispers, shifting closer.

I wince at the vulnerability of his plea, my heart squeezing in my chest. How do I even begin to describe the depths of my failure?

“If we know what happened, we can help you. There’s nothing you can say that will upset us, sweetness,” Lex implores, crawling around Lucas to kneel on my other side.

I contain the hollow laugh that tries to come up, glancing up at her for a moment before I have to look away, face hot with anger and shame. I don’t deserve her comfort, and the kindness in her eyes burns through to the core of me. The words come before I can stop them, pouring out of me like a cathartic tidal wave.

“It all went wrong from the start, like they knew what we were going to do and did everything they could to ruin it. Caleb was stopped at the door, and I couldn’t avoid my parents because of that goddamn receiving line. It looked for a minute like we’d get out okay, but then I fucked up and went to the bathroom by myself. That’s where Darren cornered me. Tried to charm me, gaslight me, the old song and dance. But when I pushed back, he…”

I trail off as my left cheek pulses with phantom pain, and I stop myself from reaching up to check my skin for marks. Lex leans in and tucks a stray piece of my hair behind my ear, and I shiver at the trail of her finger against the sensitive shell. I want to move away, but my pack has me surrounded, no place to run. Yet my primal mind doesn’t panic like before, and even seems to settle a little more. Their scents are everywhere, the calming pheromones I’ve come to recognize as home and safety.

“Then he saw my pack mark, and he pulled out the knife and… he cut my dress—"

I choke back a frustrated shriek behind closed lips and gritted teeth, my eyes burning with tears. Now that the shock has passed, I’m deep into the anger stage. I want to scream and cry and make something or someone hurt like I’m hurting. But I’m pinned here, unable to escape the understanding looks on my pack mates’ faces. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lex leaning in. I want to move, but I don’t react fast enough, and she grabs my hand and holds it tight between both of hers and refuses to let go. And despite myself, her touch and scent of mulled wine and orange peels helps to quiet a little bit of the furious static in my mind.

“Why did he cut your dress, baby?” Mateo asks, words quavering as he struggles to keep calm. I appreciate the effort, but I almost wish he wouldn’t.

“He saw my pack tattoo, and he was going to…” I trail off, throat closing.

These types of marks are only skin deep.

Lucas curses under his breath, and I catch him subconsciously rubbing the place on his left side ribcage where he has his own pack tattoo. Part of joining Pack St. Clair was agreeing to have their motto tattooed on me, and I chose to have mine on my back to cover the scar from Darren’s attempt to force a mating bond. I’d done it to reclaim that part of myself, to turn something ugly into something beautiful. But now the flower and Latin script I’d put there seem like a stupid, reckless move. How could an alpha not take offense to someone trying to cover their mark, even if the bond never formed? I should have known better.

“Is that when Rhett came in?” Lex asks, pulling me from yet another guilt spiral.

I nod tersely. “He and Darren went back and forth. Darren used to be all bark and no bite, so I wasn’t—things escalated so fast. One minute, they were talking, and then… then the next…”

I blink, and I can see the moment again behind my eyelids. A flash of silver as Darren’s arm cranks back and darts forward. Rhett’s barely contained scream of pain. Both alphas locked in hand-to-hand combat, tumbling backward into the stall.

“So that’s how Rhett got stabbed,” Mateo sighs.

“He told me to run, to get to Caleb,” I reply with a nod. “I thought he’d be right behind me, but then I went outside, and I ran into my brothers, and then my mother showed up and—Oh, my God. I’m so fucking stupid. What was I thinking, leaving him there by himself. I should have tried to get Darren off him, or called for help, or—”

My words get faster and faster, as my mind whirls out of control. This is all my fault. Why didn’t I pull Darren back? Or hit him with a trashcan? Or do something,anythingother than just running like the coward I am?

“Rhett is a better trained fighter than all of us combined, baby,” Mateo says, cutting across me. “If he told you to run, then that was the best thing you could have done to help him.”

“But if I’d—if I’d done something, maybe we could have—”

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