Pop. Something inside my brain gives. The intense pressure recedes, and I straighten, resisting her. Her eyes widen, and she doubles down.
“Postulate before your better.” The command behind her voice is hypnotic.
I want to obey. Betas follow, not lead. A broken component inside me refuses to lie down and show her my belly.
“Sick pup. You’re all mixed up. But I’m going to change that.” Her power lashes out, burying its hooks into me. “Come to heel,” she yells.
My ears throb along with the pulsing in my temples. Vision tunneling, I stumble. Sharp points dig into my aura. Ding Dong. The doorbell breaks her concentration.
“We’re not finished here.” She promises, replacing her spite with the mask of cheer and propriety.
One day I’ll strip back that façade and show the pack the ugliness that lies beneath. Today, all my energy goes to surviving.
Leaning on the thick bedpost, I catch my breath. Going toe-to-toe like that was new and exhilarating. Things are going to be different this time. Small victories.
The heavy front door opens. I listen.
“Fell, you sweet boy. What are you doing here?” I cover my mouth to hide my gag. Confusion and anger swirl together.
What the hell is my ex doing here? I’m not ready to confront the plethora of emotions he invokes.
“I just heard. Is Ylva okay?” What the hell does he care after shattering my soul? Heat washes over my skin, filling my cheeks and crawling up my neck. I’m not ready to see him.
I spent the past four years wondering why he never showed up to help me drive to college. Now, the prospect of being face-to-face has me sick to my stomach.
Thoughts of his piercing pale green gaze, soft, light blond locks, and thick muscular frame fill my mind’s eyes.
Years of bliss came to an abrupt halt with no explanation. I hate the concern his rich baritone possesses.
I’ve had enough mind screws for one day. A smart woman knows when to attack and when to retreat.
Walking to my window, I peer down the side of the building at the ivy-laden trellis. Self-preservation isn’t cowardice.
I lift the window, swing my shaky legs over, and make my escape. On the ground, I walk away from the towering white Victorian that never felt like home.
I strip off the graduation robes, roll them into a ball, and pitch them into a garbage can at the end of the driveway. The sun sets turning the sky into a painting. I retreat to the woods, starved for comfort.
Tall yellow flowers with orange-tinted centers reach toward the sky alongside bright violet-colored blooms with black centers.
I trail my fingers over the flora and fauna, allowing the warmth of the familiar species to welcome me home. Crossing Gerda’s property line into the wooded area, tension slips from me.
I grew up among the colossal timbers, playing, exploring, and running. Trailing my fingers over the bark, I walk the well-worn path, using night vision to avoid the thick roots springing up from the ground.
Most homes here back up to the woods. A pack with no means of cover is like a sitting duck.
Moving deeper into the woodland, I admire the stars overhead and the rustling of animals moving about in branches. Eyes glow up at me from the ground as small nocturnal creatures stir.
They sense I’m a predator. Wood crackles from a fire ahead. Smoke drifts up into the air. The sound of whimpers and moans reaches my sensitive ears. I giggle.
I’m not a stranger to nights spent in the woods away from prying eyes.
“Who’s there?” A masculine voice asks.
“Sorry; just passing through.” I walk into the light of the fire, and my stomach plummets. This is not my night.
Douchebag extraordinaire and Daddy’s entitled brat, Bo Jensen, stands in front of a large white tent with built-in windows in the front flaps. He’s always looked like a model with his dark hair, dark eyes, and chiseled body.
But his attitude left much to be desired. His cupid’s bow lips part, revealing even, white teeth. I want to slap the triangular-shaped face perfectly sculpted with sharp cheekbones, a firm jaw, and thick lashes.
“If it isn’t the resident fire starter back from the land of the humans I see.”
“Looks like,” I say continuing to move.
He steps in front of me with supernatural speed. Here we go.
“We’re not kids, Bo. I won’t put up with your bullying anymore. I’m done playing games.”
This time around there’ll be boundaries. Lying back and taking everything the pack wanted to throw at me like I’m the town dump is off the table.
“You think we’ve forgotten who you are? That you’d come back and slip in undetected?” He quips.
Bo grins, showing his sharp teeth. “No. Freaks like you should expect to be called out. If we’re not careful, your insubordinate ways and weakness might spread.”
They hate me for not fitting in. “Being a beta is not a crime.”
“No.” His quick agreement is startling.
“But you ruined family legacies, didn’t you? First, the fire only you survived.” He holds up a finger. “Then against all odds, you become the first in centuries not to present as an alpha.” He tsks. “Not even an omega. Just a lowly beta. The last of the great Eskildson family holds none of their powers. He sighs loudly. “Two great bloodlines wasted on a useless beta when the pack needs magic desperately.”
