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My eyes widen, and some strange noise escapes me. It takes me a second to recognize it as a laugh. I haven’t laughed in so long, and the sound is rusty and short.
Camden grins down at me, that crooked smile making my heart pound faster.
“I promised myself I’d figure out how to make you laugh. That makes eating all those worms worth it. Yes, I really survived on worms. It was pretty gross, but hey, I did what I had to do. They eventually found me after three days out there. You’d think the whole thing would make me never wanna go outside again, but all it did was make me want to learn how to survive. I wanted to know what plants I could scavenge, and how to make a shelter. My teen years, I was practically obsessed with surviving outdoors.”
Listening to him talk, I remember all my walks in Olympic with my parents. I took it for granted that they knew about berries and mushrooms and starting fires. Really, they gave me a rare gift. The things they taught me were more valuable than I ever knew.
The forest is full of treasures, only people like Cam and I can see. It makes me want to hold him even tighter. Inside me, I can feel his knot starting to soften, and I realize I could move if I really wanted to. But I wait. I want to hear how his story ends.
“I started challenging myself to see how long I could make it outside. I beat my three day record pretty quickly. When I didn’t have school, I’d go out for weeks at a time. Eventually, when I was 21, I went on this TV show where they drop people in the wilderness and watch them try to stay alive. I won—thirteen weeks.”
He sounds so proud of himself, but he forgot one thing.
“No, I win,” I whisper.
His loud laugh warms my heart. “Yeah, sweetpea, you beat me. What is it, thirteen months? It’s fine. I’ll give you my title. You’re the Ultimate Survivor.”
Camden’s knot finally slips out of my body. Now, neither of us can deny that there’s a world outside. My fever has finally lowered, but it’s not gone.
FIFTEEN
—
M E M P H I S
My boots have started wearing through the grass as I pace back and forth outside Brooklyn’s shelter. With the fire so close, it’s too dangerous for me to go out for a walk by myself again. But I can’t sit quietly and wait, like Denver’s doing right now. I’ve got too much pent-up energy to stay still.
I can’t bear the reality. Brooklyn’s being knotted by another man not twenty feet away from me.
Pure jealousy courses through my veins. I wanted to be the one to care for her, not him. It should have been me, goddammit. I don’t give a flying fuck that he’s the one who’s been with an Omega in heat—Brooklyn doesn’t fucking belong to him. I should go in that shelter and throw him off her. Prove that I’m the one who can take away her pain. Not Camden, me.
Then I remember her wide, frightened eyes at the campfire.
She doesn’t want me. She’s fucking terrified of me. And why wouldn’t she be? All she’s seen me do is snarl and run from her. It’s my own fault.
I’ve never felt anything like what I feel for Brooklyn. Like there’s some invisible tether between us, drawing me right to her side. It’s all-consuming, almost an obsession. I care for her so much that it’s driving me insane, and she has no idea.
I might know in my heart that I care more about her, but Cam’s the one who was able to actually prove how he feels. He talked Brooklyn down that first night when she wanted to run. He’s the one she looks at without fear in her eyes. People feel comfortable around him, and when Denver and I were gruff and overbearing, Camden stayed cool. He’s the only reason she didn’t make a break for it right away.
I know I’m not that guy—I’m not calm and kind, and nobody has ever called me disarming. I’m a loner. I have no practice charming strangers, and before today, it wasn’t a skill I missed.
Now, it feels like a fatal flaw.
Because Brooklyn doesn’t have a clue how badly I want to take care of her. Technically, I didn’t start tracking her until we walked in the forest. But I feel like I’ve been searching for her since the second I saw her picture. Taking care of her is now the only thing that matters. If I want her, I’ve got to figure out how to show it.
I’m no good with words, but it doesn’t matter. My actions will prove to Brooklyn that she’s safe with me. I’ve got to figure out how to control my response to her scent. Remembering the mint we used last night, I go to my pack and rummage through until I find some leaves. I rub some under my nose then start chewing on them for good measure.
Even though I want to keep pacing, we’ve still got a long way to go today. I should conserve my energy. I take a seat on a fallen log next to Denver.
“You good?” Denver asks me, setting his hand on my shoulder.
“I’m fine,” I tell him.
I must sound convincing, because he doesn’t push like he did before.
The log we’re sitting on faces the door of the shelter. Brooklyn probably moved it here herself, someplace to sit when she cooked outside. It probably weighs more than she does, and I wonder what clever trick she came up with to move it. The fact that she built the shelter by herself is remarkable.
Finally, the tarp door rustles and Camden emerges. He looks too fucking smug to me, smiling and sated. Behind him, Brooklyn peeks out. Thank God, she’s strong enough to walk on her own now. She changed from her little shorts into blue jeans. She’s still weak and trembling, a far cry from the lithe, limber woman we saw last night. Her heat hit her hard, and I feel a sharp pang of concern.
