Page 19 of Vitreous Girl (Lensverse #1)

I had not been getting nearly enough sleep for this bullshit. Being on the road and already exhausted didn’t do a thing to dampen my nightmares, and having a vicious, whispered argument with my pig-headed brother for half the night made everything worse. On top of everything else I felt physically sick, crampy and feverish, as if the gods had decided mild food poisoning was the perfect icing on my shitty, shitty cake.

We hadn’t even tried to escape. I’d been willing to at least make the attempt, but of course Sir Petrichor turned out to be some kind of super mage. Ivan had refused to leave, saying the barrier Sinclair had raised around the camp was impenetrable and would repel us like rubber balls thrown on a stone wall. When my brother wasn't ordering me to escape by myself, he had been drooling over how powerful the wards were.

He even got me to try to escape them, just to shut me up, even though he knew Sinclair was on watch. I'd crawled over to where the air was faintly blue and sparkly and gingerly prodded it with a finger. Not only was it unyielding, I saw Sinclair’s head snap around in my direction the instant I touched it. Convinced, and appropriately terrified, I had hurriedly stumbled back to our tent and a smug Ivan. Thankfully, Sinclair left us alone. Although I had the creeping feeling that the man was always watching me.

So, escaping at night was an impossibility. That still didn't mean that I should escape by myself.

“If we're both on your horse, it will slow it down,” Ivan had said, at least a dozen times. “No matter what kind of distraction I try to deploy, they will catch us within wicks.” Ivan had sounded way too calm. As if he’d been expecting every argument. “I’m no match for Sinclair. It would be like a barn kit trying to fight a swamp cat.”

“I’m not leaving you behind, Ivan!” My throat was still sore from my tantrum earlier in the day, and whisper-yelling did it absolutely no favors. “I won't do it. You've already sacrificed so much for me.”

“What's one more thing?” He asked, his voice quiet. “You want to make all my other sacrifices meaningless, Rosie? I'm not the one in danger here.” He lowered his voice until it was almost a growl. “You've heard the rumors about this pack. They aren't taking us to the king… We have no idea what they'll do to you once you’re in their fort.”

“What they'll do to me ? What about what they’ll do to you! You’re the godsdamned-”

“Hush,” he snapped as my voice began to rise. Fear and frustration shot through me and I lowered my voice again.

“You’re the godsdamned omega, Ivan. Anything you’re imagining they’ll do to me, they’ll do to you too, if you stay with them.”

“I'm only an omega because you're still here ,” he whispered harshly, his voice breaking. “You aren’t listening to me, Rosemary. Once you go, I'll be safe.”

I choked back a sob. Maybe he was right. The idea of running away, of leaving him in the clutches of slavers… it felt wrong . But I was the problem, wasn't I?

I had always been the problem. The tether that kept him from walking away.

Maybe now he could be free.

Besides, no matter how many rumors I’d heard about this pack, the reality was different. Deep in my heart, I couldn’t believe that Cantor or Bastian, or maybe not even Lynter, were capable of hurting a beta for no reason. If I was gone they might punish him, but they wouldn’t enslave him or kill him.

I was holding my brother back.

In a broken voice, with a broken heart, I'd finally agreed with his plan and then sank into a restless sleep.

***

By now, I knew coffee was good for sleepiness. What I did not know was that it wasn't good for nerves. I figured out that useful little fact when I was halfway through my third cup and Cantor tried to pry it from my hands.

“That’s enough, little Starling. You already look as fretful as a bunny on a marble floor.”

I stubbornly continued to sip, refusing to relinquish my clay mug. Most of the pack was striding around our camp, looking oh-so-important, and bullying the beta soldiers into packing up all the tents and feeding the horses. Cantor, Bastian, and I were still sitting around the ash-filled firepit, finishing the last of the morning coffee. To my irritation, Ivan was following Sinclair around like a puppy, probably asking about the bloody wards.

“Why don’t bunnies like marble floors?”

Cantor smiled at me, but maintained his grip on my mug. “They have furry feet, not pads like a cat or dog. It’s too slippery for them. They go pshooh .” He gestured with his hand, a bunny falling on its rump and sliding along, and for the first time that morning a smile crept onto my lips.

Cantor almost glowed with pleasure at the sight of it.

“Let her finish the mug,” Bastian said, without looking at me. He looked almost as tired as I was and I wondered if taking the watch with Sinclair had disturbed his sleep. However, his voice was as light as ever when he continued, “but I wouldn't recommend drinking any more. You're already wound tighter than Lynter’s purse strings.” His eyes twinkled but they still seemed… off. Like it hurt him to make eye contact with me. “Not to mention you'll be off your horse five times before lunch to crouch in the bushes. That kind of delay would drive Davos insane.”

I debated having another cup anyway, just to spite them both, but Bastian took the decision out of my hands by emptying the remainder of the pot into the grass.

Besides, the last thing I needed was a full bladder while I made my escape.

In spite of the stimulating effects of the coffee, my heart was weighed down by grief more than fear as we climbed onto our horses and rode off for the day. Ivan had asked to be in his carriage and Davos had been more than happy to accommodate him.

Cantor and Bastian each tried to keep me company, but my sullen silence and snappish retorts eventually drove them away. Even from a distance, I could still feel their eyes on me. My thoughts chased circles in my head. How could I leave my brother? How could I do this to him when he had done so much for me? The only one who had cared, the only one who had stayed, and yet I wouldn't stay. I couldn't, not if he were to have a chance at freedom. The best thing I could do for him was disappear. But how could I leave my brother?

I comforted myself with the small chance that I could find him again, but I knew that chance was as good as nothing.

We were at least two days ride from wherever it was the pack was going and presumably they would not release my brother immediately after I ran off. Perhaps they wouldn’t let him go for weeks or longer. It would be obvious that he had pretended to be an omega for a reason, and Sinclair knew the truth. They would figure it out. Then they would probably hope I’d return for Ivan.

Even if I could track them to where they lived, which was very unlikely, they all knew me on sight and my spellstone would run out almost immediately with no access to Ivan’s magic. There was no way I could linger in an unknown area for an indefinite amount of time without being caught. And if I wasn’t caught, there was a strong possibility I would die of exposure or starve to death. I knew most common wild foods around my village, but the landscape around us had been steadily changing as we rode. I didn’t recognize these trees around us, or even the grasses and wildflowers. It was getting cold at night, colder than it ever got in our village. Ivan had explained that Fort Madder was nestled in the foothills of a mountain range, and the local plants and animals there would be even more different than these were, to the swampy forests of our home, and the nights would be freezing.

I had been so angry at Ivan, I’d barely spoken to him that morning before we left the tent. And I was starting to realize, as our horses plodded ever onwards towards my fate, that I would probably never see him again. Right now he was in a rattling carriage, only a few paces in front of me, but he might as well have been in a coffin, about to be lowered into the ground for all it mattered.

Except that he was still alive. I clutched that truth to myself.

I almost missed my chance, when it happened, so consumed was I with my own despair, but the distraction Ivan made was so flamboyant it snapped me out of my dark thoughts. First, the carriage horses screamed and reared as if they had been stung by flaming insects, and then they took off, crashing into the riders in front of them. The carriage bounced after them for half a second before something cracked, and the big, wooden structure twisted and fell on its side.

I gaped at the chaos for too long, while everyone behind me suddenly sped up, rushing past me to get to the accident, and then my heart lurched and pumped my body full of crackling energy. Without pausing to look around or doubt myself, I turned my horse towards the lightly-forested fields on the side of the road and urged her into a run.

It was my first time going over a trot and I was surprised and relieved by how smooth it was in comparison to that jagged gait. I didn’t try to steer her at first, just clipped her sides with my feet and let the mare run. She seemed all too happy to leave the wild mess Ivan had caused behind us.

We flew into the wild, through grass that rose to my knees which gripped Marybell’s sides, past young trees that had barely sprouted to replace those taken for wood by some nearby village.

My breathing was harsh in my own ears, my heartbeat so loud I couldn't tell if anyone followed, but a quick glance behind seemed to suggest that no one had.

Not yet.

Perhaps not ever, I thought, since all they want is an omega. They think they already have one. So why waste time on me?

And why did my heart twist at that thought? No matter. It was all too late now. We had cast the die.

I kept going until my poor mare was frothy and heaving, until I couldn’t stand to push her any further, and even then, I made her walk until I could see the dark, bruised edge of the true forest ahead of us. It was the Gallen Woods, just as Ivan had said.

As soon as we were within a few paces of the shadows between the trees, I brought my horse to a stop and looked carefully behind me. I tried to listen past the air that was still pumping urgently in and out of my lungs.

I could hear nothing but the wind and the birds. No one was chasing me. They probably hadn’t even noticed I was gone.

And that pain in my heart was all for Ivan, I told myself.

I moved all my meager supplies (which consisted of a bit of food stolen from dinner and a skin of water Ivan had been given in the carriage) into a single saddlebag and strapped it to my back, then directed the horse away from the forest and slapped her sharply on the flank. She ambled reluctantly away from me. I could tell she wouldn't go far, but hopefully far enough that my total lack of pursuers would be fooled.

I didn’t run. I kept my pace fast and even, every slow step a reminder that no one was looking for me. The fact that I cared about this so much shamed me, even as I tried to ignore the bitter taste of it.

My father had shown me my worth more than once. As an omega I was worth plenty. As Rosemary, I was worth nothing at all. Why did it even matter? So a few alphas had been nice to a pitiful beta. I should be grateful they cared so little. If they were to chase me it would only be for the sake of my brother.

No, not even for him. For the sake of the omega .

I was burying myself in bitter guilt when a crack sounded through the forest. A branch breaking under a foot. The sound came from only a few paces behind me.

Suddenly it didn't matter at all who was chasing me or why… Fear streaked through me.

I ran.

Running through the woods seems like a thrilling activity when you’re reading fairy tales about nymphs and monsters, but the reality is not so exciting. Every step put my face level with a stinging branch, and every cantankerous root tried to roll my ankle. Tearing through the unforgiving terrain, I couldn’t spare a single step to turn around and see who chased me. Scrambling up hills felt like the worst part until it came time to careen down the other side, and my knees wanted to pop outside my flesh from the thudding strain.

My body screamed at me to stop, but I couldn’t. Not when I could hear the steps behind me. So close, that branches I flung back were whomping into the body of my pursuer, his breath loud and rough and alpha . My instincts wouldn’t allow me to be caught. He might rip me apart.

He was close enough that the skin of my back crawled, knowing that in moments he would grab me.

Heavy fingers scrabbled at my neck, tugged at my hair, and I swerved, hoping to throw him off. I only threw my own weight off balance and fell, crashing to my knees.

I scrambled to my feet, sure I would be crushed to the ground any second, but somehow I kept going.

It took a few moments for that to sink in. He should have caught me. Was he toying with me?

I was an omega. The weakest designation. Even if my body wasn’t still suffering from years of confinement, my muscles wasted and weak, there was no way I could outrun even a beta, let alone an alpha. I swerved again, this time deliberately allowing myself to slow. To get closer to my pursuer. Still, he didn’t catch me. I took the chance to suck in as much air as my wretched lungs allowed me.

A whisper of his scent crept in and my brain finally registered its origin. Cucumbers, and borage flowers, crisp and sweet. Bastian . It was Bastian whose heavy footfalls were slowly, deliberately gaining on mine, yet not quite reaching me.

To my shock, a thrill shot through me. Bastian was chasing me. My alpha… wanted to catch me . My omega brain wanted to start cheering. Not because he was chasing me… well, not just that. But because he had not yet caught me, even though… even though he could. The alpha was drawing out the chase. He wanted to play with me.

The part of me that had been bitter and angry for all the wrong reasons during this escape was suddenly purring.

I didn't know what it meant. I was too tired, too much in shock to really think at all. I only knew that something dark and twisted in me was stretching, eager, urging me on. Make him earn it, that part of me said. Make him earn the right to claim me .

To my horror, slick began to prickle the lips of my sex, not quite gushing out, but building under the surface, like saliva might painfully tantalize a dry mouth.

The part of me that realized I was being near-suicidally stupid tried to force my body to greater speeds, but I was utterly exhausted.

I could all but feel his breath on the back of my neck. He began to brush his hands on me, reaching out to pinch lightly at my arms, my buttocks, the nape of my neck. That dark part of me gorged itself on these teasing pats, ignoring the cruelty of it all, to bask in their supposed possessive nature.

Toying with me doesn't mean he likes me, I told myself. The cat doesn't like the mouse, the boy doesn't care about the ants, and Bastian only wants to wear me down to make me easier to capture.

Still, when he finally clutched me about my upper arm to prevent me from running into a tree, and pulled me hard against his body, I wasn’t surprised to feel a true gush of slick, as my scent soared out of me. The spellstone, topped up only a few candles ago, failed immediately.

I perfumed.

The giant alpha wrapped an arm around my waist, shock written in the tense lines of his body, and I shrieked wordlessly and tried to pull away from him, even as that wicked, stupid part of my brain urged me to get even closer.

Now they would all know .

He loosed me, but grabbed my hand. Desperately, I flung up my other hand and thrust it at him, pumping magic into the blow.

With a loud snap , a twisted line of bright violet and orange light flew from my palm and stabbed Bastian in the shoulder, exploding on impact. His body was torn away from mine, and flung into a tree trunk. He slid to rest on the base of it, limp and lifeless.

I blinked at him for a moment, not quite sure what had happened.

“Bastian!” I shrieked again, and somehow I was next to him and clutching at the smoking ruin of his shoulder, trying to feel his breath, urging him to open his eyes, please open his eyes!

Sinclair found me moments later, or candles, I wasn't quite sure, and dragged me away from his packmate. At first I was sobbing too hard to understand what he was doing. Cantor clutched me around the shoulders as Sinclair bent over Bastian, and he was doing something so it meant Bastian would be OK, wouldn’t it? I found myself babbling to Cantor even as he wrapped his arms around me and stroked my hair.

I only came back to myself when Cantor gasped, softly but sharp enough that I knew he had also discovered my secret.

Now I was truly lost, but somehow it didn’t seem to matter as Bastian opened his beautiful amber eyes, and groaned in pain. He was alive.

“Sinclair,” he gritted out. “Why did you make me chase her like that? What was the point ?”

“Omega,” Cantor murmured in my ear as he held me, and his arms tightened so much around me, it was as if I were already chained.

It finally occurred to me to struggle, to at least try to fight my fate, but Sinclair was on his feet and Cantor was gripping my arms and holding me out to him. To the bastard that had apparently ordered Bastian to run me down, because of course it was Sinclair. It wasn’t enough for him to just tell his pack I was an omega. He had to exhaust my spellstone and humiliate me in front of them. He had to weave a web so strong I would never escape it.

Sinclair took me by the hand and peered in my eyes, then pulled me out of Cantor’s grip so roughly I would have fallen on my face without his hand to steady me.

Sinclair used his other hand to crack across my ass.

“What the fuck?” I whispered, my voice too hoarse to shriek again, and as he raised his hand to spank me a second time, I raised my own in response. Magic shot from me, pure violet this time.

It had been instinctive, both the beam of magic and the fact that I aimed it over his shoulder. I couldn’t stand to harm another one of my…

I shied away from the word that tried to form and replaced it with another. Captors . Another one of my captors .

Sinclair growled with frustration and lifted his hand again, but this time Cantor seized it. I threw all my weight against Sinclair’s other hand, which was still clamped around my wrist. A manacle that kept me from escaping these men, who all now knew with absolute certainty what I was. I was a panting, trembling mess, but maybe I could still get away. Maybe if they stayed with Bastian while I… Sinclair’s grip was weakening and I was thrashing like a wild rabbit caught in a trap when a voice lashed over us all.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Davos had found us.