Until last night at the fire. Camden shouldn’t have washed the mud off Brooklyn’s body. It was the only thing keeping her scent from getting fucking everywhere. Even the herbs we rubbed under our noses couldn’t keep it out. Cam and I managed to pretend that nothing was happening, but Memphis couldn’t tolerate it. He marched out into the woods with barely a word.
I could see it written across his face—he was tempted. He left because he wasn’t sure if he could control himself. He didn’t come back to camp until Brooklyn was tucked safely in Camden’s tent. He didn’t look like the same quiet, confident hunter. Memphis was rattled.
I’m going to have to keep an eye on him. Memphis doesn’t seem like the type of guy who would force himself on a girl. He’s been nothing but decent and respectful this whole trip. But our biological instincts can still get the best of us. It only takes a split second to let your self-control slip through your fingers. Hell, I’ve seen it happen with my own eyes, more times than I care to admit.
In the U.S., talking heads on TV complain that Omegas don’t have rights. They say the laws requiring they be escorted around in public are too strict and take away their freedom. I’m not convinced. Work has taken me all over the world, and I’ve seen Alphas jumping women in the street with nobody batting an eye. Their screams and tears are nothing to the indifferent crowd around them. Even though it killed me, I couldn’t stop them—it would mean risking the life of my team and cause an international mess.
It sickens me to think about the Omegas I’ve seen, forced to bond to Alphas who took them without asking. Like they’re animals, not human beings.
Memphis might regret it right after, but biology is a beast. Fighting it is fucking hard.
I hear the zipper on Memphis’s tent. Once he crawls out, he’s got circles under his brown eyes. Maybe he just had a shitty night’s sleep. But I recognize his expression from my fellow soldiers after a rough mission. I’m pretty sure Memphis spent the night fighting with his inner demons.
“Coffee?” I offer, gesturing to the pot.
Memphis just grunts and prepares himself a cup. He perches on a stump and throws half of it back in a long gulp.
“You doing okay?” I ask.
He raises a brow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Look, I’m not trying to get you to spill your guts here. But we all saw you leave last night. If being around the Omega is too much, I need to know.”
“I can handle it,” he says roughly.
My eyes narrow as I stare him down. “You sure?”
Memphis meets my eyes. His teeth are clenched, and I can tell he’s probably pissed at me. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m sure.”
While we drink our coffee, I feel the temperature drop. The branches over us are too thick to get a good look at the sky, so I take my coffee and stroll until I get to a good gap. Sure enough, thick, dark gray clouds are rolling in.
We had one day of sunshine. Now, a storm’s on its way.
I jog back to camp, where Camden’s still asleep outside his tent. I shake him by the shoulder.
“Wake up, Cam. We gotta go. There’s a storm brewing.”
Camden squints back up at me. “You mean right now?”
“Right now, assuming you want to get out of these trees before the lightning starts. You know lightning hits tall trees, right?”
“Yeah, yeah.” He rubs his eyes and works his way to his feet.
“Wake the princess up,” I order, headed to take my tent down. “We’re going as soon as we take down the camp.”
Memphis is already banking the fire, and I nod my appreciation. But our work is quickly interrupted by a long, frustrated yell.
“Fuck.”
Memphis and I are at the door of Camden’s tent in seconds. Brooklyn’s not in it. Neither is Cam’s sleeping bag or his pack. And to add insult to injury to the guy, she’s carved a nice big hole in the nylon back of the tent.
“Some guard dog you are, Camden,” I tell him, clapping a hand on his back. “Did she even wait for you to fall asleep before she snuck off?”
“She was fine last night.” Camden’s face is pale, his mouth hanging open with disbelief. “She went right to bed, no complaints. It seemed like she trusted me.”
Memphis huffs out a laugh. “Hey, at least she left your shoes.”
I nudge his worn-in hiking boots with my foot. “Jesus, these are big. You didn’t tell us you were part sasquatch.”