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The one in the front is the shortest, if you can say “short” in the same sentence as “at least 6 feet.” His wavy dark hair stops above his shoulders. There’s a leather bracelet on his thick wrist that I want to steal. A necklace, too, something braided with what looks like a talon attached to it. The masculine accessories stand out against his practical cargo pants and overstretched t-shirt.
Behind him, a taller, lankier Alpha strides confidently. He’s smiling, a gorgeous crooked smile that makes my heart beat faster. He seems at ease here, his long legs easily moving from rock to rock down the creek as his mouth moves, speaking animated words to the others that I can’t hear.
Bringing up the rear is a soldier. He has to be—his movements are precise and regimented, and he’s alert, checking carefully behind him like it’s his responsibility to guard from approaching enemies. I spot some kind of gun strapped to his back. He’s the broadest, with huge muscled shoulders and thighs so thick, they might be as big as my waist.
They’re all stunningly gorgeous in vastly different ways. I stay crouched and still, unable to tear my gaze away from them. Each of them could use their powerful bodies to run downstream, but I sense that they’re choosing to move slowly. They’re here for the long haul. They need to conserve energy.
These are no day hikers. Before it gets dark, they’ll be making shelter.
I’ll have to be careful and observant. The soldier’s on the lookout, ready for intruders like me. The one with the bracelet is quiet, too. I have a feeling he notices everything. His eyes are slightly squinted, shifting as he walks like he’s looking for tracks in the hard packed dirt under his feet.
At least the smiling one seems like he’s not a threat.
As they follow the bend in the river, their voices become audible over the babbling of the water, but only just.
“Did you know they’ve got flying squirrels out here?” the one with the bright smile asks. “Never seen one in the wild. They’re more common than you’d think, but they’re nocturnal, and pretty good at avoiding predators. Maybe if we douse the campfire, we can see one.”
The soldier grunts. “If you want to see a flying squirrel, you’ll have to keep your mouth shut for at least ten minutes. Haven’t proven you can do that yet.”
The smiler laughs. Doesn’t mind them making fun of him. Either he’s got a self-deprecating sense of humor, or they know each other well. “Actually, I can do a whole fifteen quiet minutes. I’ll show you later, Denver. You’ll be amazed.”
So the soldier is called Denver. It suits him.
They keep going for a while and I move slowly alongside them with the wind, trying not to breathe too deeply. Everyone’s quiet now, even the smiler. By the way he keeps peering up at the trees around him, I’m guessing he’s hoping for the flying squirrel sighting. I find myself hoping he sees one. I like his smile enough when he’s just talking, but I’d love to see what it looks like when something makes him really happy. I bet he lights up like the sun.
The creek merges with a small river, the water running fast and hard now. Crossing it would be possible, but tough; fortunately, the Alphas decide to stay on the same side as me. If they’d crossed, I would have had to double back to cross without them seeing me.
By dusk, they still haven’t pulled out headlamps or flashlights. I wonder if they’re confident enough in their senses to keep going once it’s fully dark—I rarely do it myself, and I know these woods better than my own reflection.
“Hold on a sec,” the smiler says, pausing.
I freeze in my tracks. He couldn’t have scented me, could he? I’ve been so careful! Plus, he was distracted, chatting about nonsense.
Then he points. Right in my direction.
Fuck.
It was too dangerous. I shouldn’t have come. They’ll find me, and they won’t let me go. They’ll force me to bond with them—even if they’re decent Alphas, if I go into heat, they might not be able to stop themselves, just like Grayson. Or worse, they’ll drag me back to civilization.
Right back into the arms of Grayson and Papa.
Before I can panic, he keeps talking.
“How about setting up camp there?” he asks. “Close to the water. There’s enough space, and we can gather rocks for a firepit.”
He’s right; it’s a good spot. If they’re smart, they’ll camp here. Which means it’s time for my escape.
I wait until he looks back to the other Alphas for approval before I dare to take a step back. Nobody notices while I move back behind a low copse of bushes.
They stop to drop their packs and divide their tasks. The smiler stays there, keeping his pack nearby while he clears space for a firepit. The others go out to scavenge, maybe for firewood or tonight’s dinner. They’re not close enough for me to hear, but thankfully they don’t head in my direction.
With the smiler right here, I’ll have to wait to raid their bags. It’s fine—going after they fall asleep was always Plan A.
While his back is turned, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and watch as one of the backpacks shifts. The Alphas were careless. The rock where the other two set their gear isn’t as flat as it looked; one of the packs falls, tumbling to the ground. The one with a massive crossbow attached.
A loose black case falls from a side packet, toppling to the river’s edge. The water catches it, and it floats downstream, buoyant.
I briefly wonder if it’s worth chasing after. A waterproof case might be nice to store matches, or anything I need to keep dry. But I dismiss the thought immediately. If whatever the case had inside was important, they would have packed it more carefully.
