Page 180 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys

Into town...

The twins exchanged groggy glances. At the same time, something sparked in their eyes.

They’d have to delay talking to the contractor, but the idea of going into town with Nelly filled them with possibilities. They could show her the bakery where Cooper got their favorite bear claws. They could take her to the handful of fashion boutiques to pick out clothing. They could even eat lunch at Shorty’s, which had a very different vibe and clientele during the day.

Maybe she’d love the little town. Maybe it would be another selling point.

Both Wyatt and Wade tried to ignore the possibility that she’d refuse to go.

42

NELLY

How long have I been here?

Am I really free to leave?

I stared at the ceiling, watching shadows from the moonlight dance across the mottled surface.

For hours, I’d been searching for patterns in the texture.

A rabbit. A four-leaf clover. A misshapen dog.

A star.

Stupid star.

Sleep evaded me like a stubborn dance partner refusing to follow my lead. My body ached for rest, but my mind pirouetted through endless circles of doubt and desire, each thought spinning into the next without resolution. The sheets twisted around my legs, damp with sweat despite the cool Wyoming night air filtering through the half-open window. Every time I closed my eyes, their five distinct Alpha scents found me. Why had the smell of them become as familiar to me as my own natural perfume? Why did it feel so right to exist in a house with walls saturated by their cologne?

I kicked the sheets away, frustrated by their confinement.Freedom.The word that had thundered through my mind since dinner now felt hollow, meaningless.What good was freedom if I didn't know what to do with it?

"This is ridiculous," I whispered to the empty room. "You weren't even supposed to be here in the first place."

The rational part of my brain knew I should be packing already. Signing the contract without properly reading had been an act of stupidity. I’d never wanted this. I’d never explicitly agreed to be an Omega bride for five Alpha ranchers in the middle of nowhere, Wyoming. The Eros Institute put me here, through underhanded tactics and fine print. So, right now, I should be outraged, indignant, rushing toward the exit now that the door had mysteriously swung open.

Instead, I lay here, marinating in Alpha pheromones and indecision.

I rolled onto my side, burying my face in the pillow that still held traces of Cooper’s cinnamon bun and smoke scent. My body betrayed me instantly, a wave of warmth flooding my lower abdomen, my pulse quickening. My Omega biology didn't care about contracts or consent or rational decision-making. It only knew that five compatible Alphas were within arms’ reach, their protective instincts and vitality promising safety, security,pleasure.

"Stop it," I hissed, flipping the pillow over. But it didn't help. The room around me breathed with their presence. I couldn’t drive it away with words.

I sat up abruptly, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I looked down at my feet, hovering just above the hardwoods. They’d healed fast, thanks to Wade’s care. All that was left from the damage was a bit of skin discoloration, a few sore spots, and the tingle that ghosted to life every time I remembered Wade touching me so carefully as he applied first aid.

The worn quilt folded nearby on the floor caught my eye. Though it was completely different than Grandmother’s laboriously stitched starlight one, it sent a pang of missing her through my heart. I was going to call her tomorrow with the cell phone. I glanced over at where I’d abandoned it right after getting it from Levi.What time should I call Serenity? Wyoming was an hour ahead. Would nine be too early? Would Grandmother be awake at eight? God, I missed her.

If I stayed at Sagebrush Ranch, how often would I see her? Tacoma to Wyoming wasn't an impossible distance; flights didn’t take very long. But she was the only family I had left. Could I really live hundreds of miles away, building a new family, while she aged alone, progressively losing more of her mind?

I closed my eyes, trying to picture her face.

Downy hair brushed back, face bathed in sun as she sat by a window. But that was as far as I could envision her. I couldn’t remember the location of each laugh line, or the exact shade of her eyes.

One thing I’d realized, after the initial shock and anger of being here wore off, was that the fuck heads at Eros took my things from the club. My bag. My wallet. My keys. My book... And, inside that book, the photo of Grandpa and Grandmother I’d had in my work locker. Without it, I found myself forgetting little details of their faces. More than anything else back in Seattle, I missed my boxes of pictures. I'd moved everything worth keeping to Tacoma; most things sat in a storage facility a few blocks from the Clairemont. But the truly important items were tucked safely in my apartment. Mementos from my ballet career that I’d tried to discard but couldn’t find the strength. My first pair of pointe shoes, along with my last. The little porcelain ballerina my grandmother gave me for my sixteenth birthday. The barre Grandpa handmade for my bedroom when I wasyoung. That love-worn quilt I was too scared to wash. And the thousands of photos, irreplaceable fragments of my history, in an apartment I could return to now.

Assuming it was still mine, and my things were still tidily placed in cabinets and closets.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I wiped them away with the back of my hand, annoyed at my own weakness. I’d cried so damn much since coming here. I was tired of it, but thinking of the faded photograph stolen by Eros made me unable to fight the emotions.

"Get it together, Nelly," I muttered, pulling my legs onto the bed and turning around to face the partially opened window. Crawling the short distance to the glass, I gazed out, shivering as a sudden gust of chilly air hit my skin. Outside, the ranch looked silvery beneath the light of so many brilliant, blinking stars. Soft, peaceful sounds of livestock flowed to me, sounding nothing like nighttime in the city. No constant traffic hum, no sirens wailing, no shouting and occasionally, pulse-quickening gunfire.