Page 37

SNEAK PEEK

PEACHES

I thought I was safe here.

Secure.

But today, as I sink into the soft grass, watching Charlotte’s baby toddle toward me, my chest feels hollow.

The sun is shining, the flowers are blooming, there’s a soft breeze blowing in the Texas spring day. It’s really a perfect afternoon; I’m with my friends, playing with their adorable babies, not at all wishing I had one of my own.

I’m happy, aren’t I?

“You gonna come see me, lovebug?” I hold out my hands, and little Daisy stumbles forward, her chubby fingers wrapping around mine as she flops into my lap. She squeals, delighted, curling into my arms.

“You’re spoiling her,” Charlotte teases, settling beside me.

“That’s my job.” I grin, pressing a kiss to the soft curls on Daisy’s head. “I’m her favorite auntie, after all.”

Maggie shifts on her blanket a few feet away, her newborn tucked against her chest. “I thought your job was to help Suyin in the infirmary today,” she chides.

I bite my lip. “I can multitask.”

Maggie hums, rocking her baby gently, but there’s a hint of tension in her face.

“She’s a little squirmy today,” she murmurs, rubbing slow circles on her daughter’s back. “I think she feels the shift in the air.”

She’s not talking about the weather.

I glance toward the fence, barely visible through the trees at the edge of the den. It’s been weeks since Colt warned us all about rumors the Gulf Pack was going to make a run at us, and still, omegas aren’t allowed beyond the walls. Reyes’ orders.

“We all feel it,” Charlotte says softly. “Elijah’s been nervous too.”

“Oh…they need to calm down,” I say. “It’s not like they’re going to send an army out just for little old me.”

Maggie sighs. “They’re right to be worried, Peaches. Colt says the Gulf Pack won’t just let you go.”

The words should send a chill through me, but they don’t.

Because this is not the Rig.

I escaped. I’m safe.

I let out a long breath, smoothing my fingers over Daisy’s soft curls. “Nothin’s happened. No one’s scented anyone. And besides—” I smile, trying to break the weight in the air. “You think I’d let someone take me? Not a chance.”

Charlotte snorts, reaching out to tweak my ear. “You’re cocky for a little thing.”

“I’m scrappy,” I correct, setting Daisy gently back onto the blanket. “And I’m gonna go pick some flowers. Anyone want some?”

Maggie gives me a long look, then shakes her head. “Just be careful, Peaches.”

“I’m always careful.”

She doesn’t look convinced.

But I’m not worried. Not here. Not home.

I get to my feet, dusting off my denim shorts, and start toward the fence.

The wildflowers are blooming—the first brave things to rise from the grey of winter. Tiny bursts of color peek out between the tall grasses, delicate blues and yellows dotting the landscape just beyond the fence. I breathe in deep, filling my lungs with the crisp, earthy scent of the changing season.

Beyond the fence, the prairie stretches open and endless, the kind of space that should feel like freedom. Instead, it’s off-limits. I am off-limits. Ever since Maggie’s mate, Colt, showed up and told us we were on the Gulf Pack’s radar, Reyes and Tilda have kept the omegas inside, convinced that someone is lurking out there, waiting.

All’s been quiet, though. No strange scents. No signs.

I wrap my fingers around the fence, feeling the metal give slightly under my grip. I understand why they’re cautious, but the feeling of being penned in, watched, protected—it itches at me. Reminds me too much of a place I swore I’d never return to.

The Rig.

A fortress on the water, all rusted steel and towering platforms, dressed up like a castle to disguise what it really was: a prison. It’s where my mother died, and where I was born, the first and only daughter of the Gulf Pack’s Alpha Prime, Gideon.

I escaped years ago.

But the fear stays with you.

I fight it every day, just…trying to stay positive.

A burst of laughter snaps me out of it, bright and carefree. I glance back toward the den, where Charlotte has scooped up Daisy and is spinning her in the air, the little girl squealing with delight. A few feet away, Maggie is murmuring softly to her newborn Luna, swaying on her blanket as the baby fusses.

It’s safe here.

I shake off the lingering tension in my chest and focus on what I came out here for.

A flash of color catches my eye—a bright purple mountain laurel blooming just within reach. I grin and move toward it, standing on tiptoe to pluck a single blossom from the tree. The scent is sweet and heady, a sharp contrast to the earthy green tang of the other plants I’ve already gathered. Weeds, Suyin would call them, but to me, they’re little pieces of beauty, worth saving.

I kneel to pick a few more, running my fingers over soft petals and sturdy stems, letting the scents mix and swirl around me. A breeze rolls through, rustling the grass, carrying the sound of voices—someone calling out near the entrance of the den.

I glance up and spot a small group moving down the dirt road, their arms laden with supplies. Will’s broad figure is easy to pick out, a crate balanced on one shoulder as he waves to someone at the gate. Grant, coming down from the watchtower to help out, claps him on the back, laughing as they pass through the entrance.

The den is always in motion, always alive with people coming and going. I know, without a doubt, that someone is watching me. Not in a trapped way, not like the Rig. Just…pack.

I turn back to my flowers, rolling a sprig of mint between my fingers, letting the scent of crushed leaves rise up around me. My heart has finally settled, and for the first time today, I feel calm.

Then the fence rattles.

Just a whisper of sound.

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

The breeze stirs the leaves, shifting the scent of earth and green things, but something about the air feels wrong now. I swallow, straining to listen. The fence isn’t moving anymore, but I know what I heard. A rattle, just for a second, metal scraping against metal.

It’s probably nothing. A gust of wind. A squirrel darting through the grass.

And yet?—

I turn my head slowly, scanning the prairie beyond the fence. The horizon is still, the sky pale and open, the grasses rolling in gentle waves.

Nothing moves.

I release a breath and force myself to relax, rolling my shoulders. Maybe Maggie was right about the air shifting—maybe it’s just me feeling restless.

I crouch back down, reaching for another sprig of mint. The second my fingers brush the leaves, a twig snaps.

I whip my head toward the sound.

The prairie is still again, but I know what I heard. A crack, sharp and sudden, somewhere just beyond the fence.

A prickle of unease creeps up my spine.

There’s no scent. No sign of anyone.

But the silence is heavy now, like something unseen is pressing against the world, just waiting to shift.

I rise slowly, my heart hammering against my ribs. The flowers in my hands feel absurdly delicate now, fragile things crushed too easily.

I take a step back.

The grass ripples.

Not from the wind.

Something is there.

The movement is subtle, just a whisper of motion between the stalks, barely enough to notice unless you were already looking. But I am looking.

My breath catches in my throat.

I should run.

The thought is quiet, instinctual, curling in my gut like a living thing. I don’t know why yet, but every nerve in my body screams that I shouldn’t be standing here, shouldn’t be lingering at the edge of the den, separated from the others.

I take another step back, the fence at my heels, and that’s when I see it.

A flash of black through the grass.

A shadow moving low.

Then—eyes.

Bright blue-green, unnatural…a wolf’s eyes. This wolf…he’s huge, bigger even than Reyes. An alpha. I still can’t smell it—him—and that throws me so much I don’t scream.

That’s my first mistake.

The wolf lunges out of the grass and takes me down with him. I hit the ground hard, the wind knocked clean from my lungs as the tips of the tall grass close in overhead. For a moment, all I can register is him.

Heavy. Hot. Unstoppable.

Before I can even think to move, teeth sink into my sweater at my shoulder. The wolf looms over me, his weight braced against my body, the sheer force of him pinning me down. Not rough—not yet—but firm, inescapable. I twist, kick, trying to throw him off, but his grip tightens, a low growl vibrating through my bones in a command that my body insists I listen to.

His scent—I can’t smell him, but I can feel him.

Something about that unsettles me almost as much as the weight of his body. Almost as much as the voice in my head that doesn’t belong to me.

Mine.

No. No, no, no?—

I lash out, twisting violently, trying to claw at his eyes, but he jerks me back down before I can get leverage. The moment stretches, my pulse hammering in my ears, every instinct in me screaming to fight.

I try to kick off the ground, but suddenly he moves—teeth yanking me up, dragging me across the dirt.

No.

I thrash, snarling, biting, kicking, but he’s stronger, his weight overwhelming mine as he rips me toward the fence. He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even slow. I curl my toes, partially shifting to try and get traction on the dirt, but he just shakes me like a dog correcting a pup and keeps going.

I reach for something—anything—but my fingers only catch cold metal as he drags me straight through a gap in the fence, the cut wire snagging on my skin and my sweater, making me bleed.

He’s taking me.

He’s taking me.

No no no!

I throw my whole body into the fight. My elbow slams back into solid muscle, a strangled grunt breaking from his throat. His grip loosens—just for a second—and I’m up in that moment. I rip free, half stumbling, half-falling back toward the fence and opening my mouth to scream?—

A hand covers my mouth and pulls me back against a hard, huge, human body.

“Shut up,” he snarls into my ear, breath hot against my neck. My traitorous body melts at his touch, at the press of his muscular thighs against the backs of mine. He’s naked, just shifted—and I want to see, I want to feel, I want to touch?—

“Stay still and I won’t hurt you,” he growls.

My eyes dart to up and to the side and I finally see him in his human form: a huge, tan man with jet black messy hair, a scruff of five o’clock shadow, and impossibly bright blue-green eyes. He’s breathing hard, bare shoulders heaving, his chest streaked with dirt from the fight…and with blood.

My blood.

“What’s stopping you, Javi?” another voice says from behind him. “Fucking knock her out?—”

“She’s burning up,” my attacker mutters.

“She’s in heat, you idiot,” the other man growls. “You going to stand there sniffing her all day or get your damn job done?”

I’m not in heat—I shouldn’t be, anyway. The full moon is still a few days out and the only other reason I would go into heat would be if my mate…

Oh, God.

My stomach flips, nausea and something hotter, sweeter, sharper rolling through me all at once. No, no, no.

Not him.

Not now.

Something breaks open in me, something deep and desperate that should not exist. I shouldn’t want this; I don’t want this.

But I feel him.

The weight of his body. The hard, massive press of his chest against my back. The way he’s holding me in place, like he needs me to stay right there.

The other man comes around in front of me, and my eyes go wide as I see the sharp, vicious needle in his hand. I try to scramble away, but the alpha’s body is hard and unmovinng behind me.

The needle goes in.

I gasp, the pain jolting me, but the drug is already spreading, cold and slow, numbing my limbs even as my heart hammers in protest. I try to move—to run, to fight—but my body won’t listen.

A shudder wracks through me as the heat that had been building in my blood turns to ice. My legs buckle, but before I can crumple, his arms tighten around me. The alpha curses under his breath, adjusting his grip, one arm looping under my knees, the other bracing my back. Holding me.

My breath hitches.

His chest is hot. Solid. My head lolls against it, too heavy for me to lift. I can’t think, can’t breathe, even as I want nothing more than to bury my face against his skin and finally, finally scent him.

I am not afraid.

I should be…but I’m not.

The last thing I hear before the darkness takes me is his voice, rough, raw, shaking in a way that makes no sense at all.

“Her scent…I don’t know if I can do this, Boyd.”

And then?

Nothing.

Read Peaches’ story in STOLEN BY THE ALPHA HUNTER . One-click now and follow Peaches into the dark, desperate fight for her freedom—and the mate she never expected.