Page 62 of Pack Choice

“But not in a more … satisfactory manner?”

“Do you know anything about satisfying an omega?”

He yanks back the gear stick and shoots us out of the parking space.

“I know how to make an omega wet.” He isn’t lying, this conversion is having just that effect.

“Getting an omega wet is one thing. Satisfying a need, a different one altogether.”

“I like satisfying a need, sweetheart, but if I’m honest, I also like dragging that need out for as long as I can, until I have her pleading, and begging, panting for release. I like taking her right to the very edge, lifting her higher and higher and higher, until she can’t breathe, until her body is so taut it might snap, until all she wants is my tongue, my fingers, my fucking–”

A car slams into us from the side.

I’m thrown forward in my seat. My head hits the dashboard. My ribs catch against my seat belt.

Metal crunches and the car somersaults through the air.

15

Molly

“Molly? Molly? Can you hear me?”

I open my eyes.

The scene before me makes no sense. Upside down, back to front. Nothing in its rightful place.

“We need to get her out. Now.”

“Is she hurt? Shouldn’t we–”

“Now!”

I hear a click and then the bind holding me upright releases and I slump down, my body screaming with pain.

My eyes flick open. I’m in Colt’s car. There’s the cream leather. The wood of the dashboard. The gear stick. But it’s all mangled and bent out of shape. The windscreen shattered into a million pieces.

Two pairs of arms reach inside the tight space, wrapping around me and heaving me out. I scream in agony and then I am out in the rain and the dark night.

“She’s bleeding,” Colt says, peering down at me with concern as he swipes wet hair from my face.

“What happened?” I ask, dazed, my head thumping. I blink through the rain at the crumpled wreck of Colt’s car and gasp.

“We need to get her out of here,” Ford barks.

Then he lifts me into his arms and runs with me. I bounce against his chest and I can hear Colt’s shoes slapping on the wet road as he sprints to keep up with us. We reach Ford’s vehicle and he bundles me into the back of the car, following in after me and yelling at Colt to drive.

Colt jumps through the open driver’s door and roars the car away before he’s even closed it behind him.

“They came out of nowhere!” he says, his voice full of tension, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror.

“I know,” Ford says, his whole body alert with tension. “That’s why we need to get the hell out of here.”

Colt nods, slamming his foot on the accelerator and the SUV jolting forward with more speed.

Ford yanks his phone from his pocket as he cradles me in his lap, not letting me go for even a moment, and starts barking into the receiver.

“This is Falcon. Butterfly’s been attacked. Car rammed her vehicle off the road. I have her safe in our vehicle. We’re heading home now. Approximately twenty minutes out.” He glances down at me. “Also, she’s injured. We’re going to need a doctor.”