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Besides, who would steal from them, way out here? They never saw me coming.
I give them about an hour after they settle into their tents, to make sure they fell asleep. Then I tiptoe in slowly. If they haven’t caught my scent yet, I doubt it will be enough to wake them now. Instead of dashing in to grab whatever I can hold, it’s smarter to go slow. To carefully look at all the supplies, and only touch what I intend to take. I can’t risk leaving my scent on anything for them to find in the morning.
One of them has hung a heavy-looking jacket outside. I sniff it and get notes of peppercorn, spicy but sweet. I think it belongs to the soldier. I’ll be swimming in it, but it’ll keep me warm and maybe even overwhelm my own scent.
I can’t stop myself from pressing the fabric against my nose. I’m overcome with the sudden vision of cuddling into it, of surrounding myself with the scent back in my shelter. There, it’ll be safe to slide my fingers between my legs and get myself off with the smell of warm steel and peppercorn driving my pleasure higher than it’s ever been before. Just thinking about it sends a pulse of satisfaction through me. To my horror, my panties dampen with my slick.
Clenching my teeth, I mentally smack myself for losing focus.
The air feels thick and heady. Momma warned me how powerful the draw from an Alpha can be, but I wasn’t prepared. I had no idea how intense it would be to get this close to them. It’s like these Alphas are lighthouses, pulling me toward them, even while I know I’ll crash against the jagged rocks surrounding them.
I shouldn’t have pushed my face into the scent trapped in the jacket. I don’t even recall making the decision to do it, it…just happened. I clench my teeth and attempt shallower breaths. Even though I know it’ll make things harder for me, I know I have to wear the jacket to have any hope of covering up the smell of my slick.
I drape it loosely over my muddy shoulders. It’ll be easier to clean if I don’t shove my arms inside, and I’d have to roll the sleeves up five or six times to be able to get my hands out.
The firepit area is my next target. I ignore the tin dishes, but snatch a large cooking pot, a serrated knife, and an airtight container of mixed nuts. They must keep the rest of their food in their packs. I’ll get to those soon enough.
When I pass by the first tent, I’m overwhelmed by the scent of clover and wet stones. My eyes slip closed as I breathe it in, letting it surround me. It feels comfortable, yet wild. The power of waves crashing against stone, mixed with a soft cloverbed. I recognize it as the chatty Alpha. An image of his sweet, crooked smile flashes in my mind.
My body aches to reach for the tent zipper. I could crawl inside and bury my nose in his hair, let him wrap his long arms around me. The texture of his five o’clock shadow would feel so good against my cheek, against my thighs. He’d be so sweet to me, asking me questions, his blue eyes lighting up with every answer, like he was hungry to know everything about me.
Dangerous. These overwhelming scents fill my head and overrule my self-control. They make me want to overthrow the most essential rules that I live by. To stay away from Alphas. Stay where I’m safe, in the shelter where nobody can find me.
Momma would be telling me to run. I’ve walked right into the wolves’ den, and any minute I might feel their jaws snap on me.
I crouch by his pack anyway. I need that ax. It’s what I came here for. I cover my hand with Denver’s jacket before I pinch the zipper so I won’t leave my scent behind. The hatchet is on top, and I slide it in the jacket pocket. I find a few jars of crunchy peanut butter, but there’s not much food in there. He must be planning to hunt and forage instead.
My new supplies get stored in the cooking pot. It’s a good haul—I got my ax, plus a coat and some food and cooking supplies. I could leave now, I realize. I don’t need to search the other pack. Already, this is a success beyond what I could have hoped for.
I have no idea if I can trust my instincts anymore. Not with these mouthwatering Alpha scents surrounding me. I listen to them anyway when they tell me that I have to look inside the last pack. The last one and then I’ll leave. I’ll leave and I won’t track an Alpha ever again. I’ll sink into the cold stream and drink Momma’s special tea to soothe the ache forming in my stomach. To reverse the effects of being too close to something my traitorous biology craves even more than water or sunlight.
The crossbow on top has to be moved before I can open the zipper. For a moment, I contemplate whether I should take it with me. I have no idea how to use it, and I’d probably be hopeless aiming it at a deer. But if anyone finds my shelter, I could probably use it to scare them off. I have no idea if Papa and Grayson are still looking for me. The crossbow might work as a last resort.
My fingers have just closed around the shaft when a huge hand settles on my shoulder.
It’s the Alpha with the bracelet. He’s scowling down at me, his cheekbones casting harsh shadows in the moonlight.
“That bow has a 150 pound draw on it. I doubt you can even pull?—”
I don’t give him time to finish. I duck out from under his hand and run, skidding to a halt when a hulking figure steps into my path. Denver. His eyes glint like a wolf’s.
“Going somewhere?” he growls. “I think you’ve got something that doesn’t belong to you.”
Fuck.
My fingers curl around the edges of his jacket. The obvious thing to do is drop it and run, but some deep part of me refuses to. I have to keep it. It smells like him and it’s mine now. Mine. I need it.
Denver takes a step toward me.
Behind me, the hunter is probably doing the same. Corralling me, the lost little sheep, like the vicious wolves they are.
I freeze, looking around for a way out. I’m blocked on either side by the tents. If I try to get around one, I’m gambling that I’ll be faster than them. That they can’t grab me before I slip through their fingers.
It’s my only hope.
Then, as soon as I turn to the right, there’s the third one. The smiling one who smells like the sea. He puts his hands up, trying to placate me. To convince me he means me no harm.
“It’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt you. See? We’re not armed.”
