Page 111 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys

“I don’t know. I think all those numbers are turning you into a human calculator.”

Levi extricated one hand from a pocket and tugged Cooper’s braid.

I watched their exchange in total fucking confusion.

How in the hell were they acting so flippant when I was standing here, right in front of them? Their stolen mate. I could feel the forced smile fading away, the first tears pricking my eyes. I blinked quickly, backing into the bedroom.

Boone didn’t ignore the elephant in the room.

He cleared his throat pointedly, causing Cooper and Levi to look at him. Once they did, he jerked his head towards me. The other two sobered at the sight of me.

“Hope you can rest, Nelly.” This from Boone. “I’ll close the door for you, so you don’t drop the tray.”

“Thanks,” I murmured, no longer able to keep up a façade in hopes of lulling them into complacency.

Over the next four hours, I bided my time.

The dinner sat untouched on the dresser.

The sun disappeared below the horizon, and the moon rose into silvery view. I laid down on the bed for a heartbeat, then got up again. I unfolded and refolded the quilt at the end of the bed, running my fingers over the stitch line. It made me think of grandmother’s quilt, made me want to sob.

The grandfather clock continued tolling, announcing each hour.

When the house finally settled into the heavy silence of night, I decided to take my chances.

The bears and the bobcats…

And the rattlesnakes…

Had to be better than staying here with five Alphas wanting to own me.

My body ached from the tension of waiting, muscles coiled tight.

I’d head straight for the long driveway. I’d paid enough attention to know that led to a dirt road. We’d taken a right onto the property, so I’d take a left when leaving. I thought back to the road signs, unsure if the next turn had been Goldenrod or Prairie. The longest road, the one that lead into Pinedale, had definitely been Highway 191.

I slipped from beneath the covers, pressing my bare feet against the cool wooden floor with practiced silence. Years of dance had given me the muscle memory to distribute my weight and move without sound. I never thought I’d turn ballet into a prison break. Yet, both required precision, patience, and pain.

Moonlight slanted through the thin curtains, casting everything in silver ribbons and shadows. I softly moved towards the door, pressing my face against it to hear better. At first, I thought they were guarding me. I thought I could walk right out the door and never look back, but then someone cleared their throat and dashed that pipe dream.

My only other exit option was the window.

Moving quickly, I crawled onto the bed.

The window’s lock was a simple latch, rusted with age and disuse. My fingernails dug into the crusty metal as I worked it back and forth, each minor jiggle sending flakes of brown onto the sill. I had to repress my instinct to clean it off, my grandmother’s voice nudging my consciousness about cleanliness and godliness. My bruised wrists protested how Iwas wiggling them as I fought to release the lock. Seconds ticked by, with each one stretching my nerves thinner, but finally I won.

The catch gave way with a metallic scrape that seemed deafening in the silent room. I froze, holding my breath, listening for any reaction from elsewhere in the house. Nothing. Small favors.

I gripped the bottom ridge of the window frame and lifted. It didn’t initially yield, years of paint caked in the crevices, but firmer shoving gained me an inch, then two inches, then about a foot of freedom. Each victory was met with a muffled groan of wood against wood. I probably should have paused, waiting to see if I’d be caught, but my pulse was thick in my mouth and all I could think was:I have to get out! I have to leave!

Instinct had me shoving arms through the gap before my brain thought better of it. When I remembered that I was still wearing the thin Eros dress, I pulled myself back into the room. It wasn’t enough to protect me from the Wyoming chill. Running in the dark in the dumb, delicate sandals wouldn’t work either. I’d stripped those off yesterday and I refused to put them back on again.

Back off the bed, I padded to the closet. Inside smelled so heavily of Cooper that I had to cover my nose. Not because it was foul, but because it smelled so damn good to me. Trying to take shallow breaths and keep my nostrils pinched, I fished through the clothing and pulled out drawstring joggers and a shirt. I had to use both hands to strip off the dress and change, causing Eau de Cooper to slam into me, nearly making my knees buckle. I forced myself to focus, yanking on the pants and cinching the drawstring as tight as possible. I rolled the waistband over twice, creating a bulky knot at my stomach but at least keeping them from sliding to my ankles with each step. The blue tee hung off one shoulder, exposing more skin than I wanted. Most shifts I’d been partially clothed at Club Midnight, yet this vulnerabilityfelt different. The Alphas in this home wouldn’t get kicked out if they got handsy. I closed the closet quickly, trying to dampen the intense Alpha smell inside it.

Now for shoes…

My gaze landed on a dusty pair of worn leather boots tossed against a wall. I stuffed my feet into them, feeling ridiculous as they engulfed my feet. If I tried running in them, I’d bust my ass. But what choice did I have? I’d just have to go slower, take careful steps to avoid tripping. Not ideal for an escape, but the loose boots were better than the Eros sandals or barefoot across that damn gravel driveway.

Turning, I gazed around, wondering if there was anything else I should do, or anything else I could take.Something for protection maybe?I began searching, trying not to make too much noise. When I nearly knocked over a wobbly floor lamp, lurching forward to catch it and nearly falling in the process, I stopped the hunt. A makeshift weapon wasn’t worth alerting the guard dog in the hallway. I crept back onto the bed, sticking my head through the foot gap and checking outside. The ground looked farther away, the darkness making it a patch of shadow that could hide rocks, or holes, or God knows what. My horse for a kingdom, or in this case a city streetlamp casting its annoying golden glow over everything, blocking the stars above and never allowing my apartment to fully darken. But I wasn’t in Seattle, though getting back there was the exact reason why I was about to hurl myself out a window into the scary Wyoming night.