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H olding Cora close to my chest, I carry her back to my tent where my med bag is. She complains that she can walk just fine, but I’m not having it. It’s more than the jackal. Someone broke into our camp. They didn’t just break in, they did it with a weapon. And they’re probably still here. My men are scouring the perimeter along with Roman and half the crew, but there’s no way I’m letting go of the little omega right now.

Besides, she feels nice in my arms. Her hair is still wet from the shower, and she’s only wearing the professor’s button-up. It’s swimming on her and comes down to her mid thigh, but the slit near the bottom teases me with what’s hiding a little higher. God damn, she has nice legs.

Forcing myself to behave, I set her down on the front edge of the new cot I set up earlier, her feet dangling off the side so I can clean and bandage her wounds.

A genuine smile lights up her face as she looks around. “Bear, did you set this up for me?”

Gripping the back of my neck with one hand, I reply. “Uh, yeah. I did. I hope that’s ok?”

“It looks so comfy! Where did all these blankets and pillows come from? The cot in my tent only had one sad pillow and some scratchy sheets.”

I frown. Omegas should have more comfort items than that, even if we're out in the desert. Maybe especially because we’re out in the desert. And after her ordeal tonight, I wish I’d found more. She deserves a proper nest where she can curl up and decompress. “I took them from the supply tent. There were extras in a trunk.”

“And you just took them?”

I smirk at her. “Who was gonna stop me?”

She flinches a little as I take her foot in my hand and examine it. The teeth marks are surprisingly shallow. It’s the type of bite an animal might use to haul something somewhere, or carry its young. Strange.

I pour some rubbing alcohol on a cotton swab and dab it at the cuts. In an effort to distract her from the burn, I ask the first thing that pops into my head. “So, what’s your favorite comfort item in your nest at home?”

Shit that was way too personal. But to my surprise, she laughs.

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Cross my heart.”

“A rubber duck.”

I try to cover my laugh by blowing on her foot, waiting for the skin to dry. “Aren’t omegas supposed to like soft cuddly things? ”

“Yeah, well, my dad’s a computer programmer and he used to have a rubber duckie on his desk. I thought it was funny, but then he told me about the concept of rubber ducking. Apparently, a lot of computer programmers will keep a ducky on their desk and talk to it when they get stuck. Hearing about the problem out loud gives them a new perspective and helps them solve it. I thought it was cool, and I was kind of a lonely kid, so I took his rubber ducky. You know omega hoarding instinct and all. He didn’t mind. But now, I just wish I could break the habit of talking to myself.” She laughs. “So, not exactly the most omega-like comfort item, huh?”

“Eh, it’s not that weird. You could have said something really strange like a rake.”

“A rake?”

“It was the first thing I thought of.”

“Who would sleep with a rake?”

I shrug. “I once heard of an omega keeping burlap coffee bags in her nest with her.”

She shakes her head with a smile. “At least that would smell good.”

I blow on the cuts again, even though they already seem dry. Goosebumps pop to life around her ankle, traveling up her calf to her thigh before I lose sight of them. Are they pebbling her skin under Roman’s shirt, too?

“You ever seen a jackal before?” I blurt out, in an effort to think of something other than her smooth skin and what she keeps in her nest.

“Never. In fact, I’ve never really seen a wild animal before. ”

“What?” I pull back. “Not even a squirrel while out hiking or something?”

“Okay, yeah, I mean, I’ve seen squirrels. But…” She shifts her weight. “I’ve never been hiking, unless you count walks in city parks. This is my first time camping. Nothing like jumping right into hard mode, right?” She laughs like that’s a joke, but it cuts off when she looks at me.

I probably look horrified. Having grown up on a farm, I spent a good bit of time out in nature and around animals, some wild, some domesticated. I knew the little omega was academic, but I can’t imagine never having gone for a hike.

“My parents are more red-wine-and-reading people than out-in-nature people, you know? I didn’t really mind. I’ve never been athletic anyway.” This time, her laugh has a self-deprecating ring. “I’m sure you noticed how clumsy I am. Not exactly the graceful omega I’m supposed to?—”

I squeeze her calf, and it cuts her off. “You’re perfect.”

She blinks, like she doesn’t know what to do with those words. Has no one ever told her how great she is?

New mission: compliment Dr. Cora Whitlock at least once every day.

She grabs a pillow and holds it to her stomach as she whispers, “Thanks.”

My palm drags down her soft calf to her ankle. “No need to thank me. I’m just saying it like it is. You’re pretty special, and I like how clumsy you are. It’s cute. Besides, we can’t all be good at everything, right?”

She doesn’t say anything, so I focus on covering the cuts with a clean bandage. But once it’s done, I don’t want to stop touching her. My hand trails down to the sole of her foot, thumbs digging in a little, massaging. She deserves to be pampered after all the hard work she’s been doing and what she went through tonight.

She moans in pleasure, but her eyes immediately widen like she’s shocked she let the little sound out. She pulls away. “Oh, you don’t?—”

I tighten my grip on her foot and keep rubbing. “How are you liking your first camping trip?”

Her giggle is infectious. “Well, it’s been exciting.”

My thumbs must hit a spot she likes because she sighs and her eyes roll back. That’s it.

After gently massaging her injured foot for a few minutes, I switch to the other, working over the tender muscles and up her tight calves. I don’t think she realizes all the sweet little noises she’s making. It would be so easy to work my way higher, make her feel really good, take away all the stress and fear of the night with my touch.

No. Nope. I need to get myself under control and not grope the pretty professor. We’re not exactly colleagues, but we are working together, and I’m basically forcing her to sleep here with me. I don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable.

I already slipped up and broke my rules with Archer. Fuck, that was a good kiss. The memory of how he felt against me makes my cock give a little jump, which is really not what I need right now. Not while I’m holding Cora Whitlock’s dainty little foot in my hands, the soft skin of her legs tempting me.

Not once, in years of working in this career, have I ever broken my rules and gotten together with someone on a job, but now, I’m tempted to throw it all out the window for not one, but two people I can’t seem to stop fantasizing about.

Carefully, I set her foot down on the floor. Yeah. Distance is good. Touching is bad. Keep it together, Bear .

“Oh, um… thank you.” She moves a strand of hair behind her ear and tucks her feet up under her as if she’s embarrassed I was just rubbing them.

“Figured you could use a little relaxation after all that.” I shrug indifferently, even though I’m feeling anything but indifferent toward Cora Whitlock. No, I’m feeling down right distracted and hard as a fucking rock. Not indifferent at all.

“I’ll let you get ready for bed,” I turn away from her as I stand, so she won’t glimpse the hard-on pushing against my pants. No need to freak her out.

“Um, I don’t think I’m going to… well, I’m pretty tired.” She pulls back the covers. “I’m just going to sleep in this.”

Huh, wonder what Dr. Slate would think of her sleeping in his shirt. I nod with a smile. Maybe the omega doesn’t dislike the professor as much as she tries to pretend. Her creamy legs slip under the blankets, damp hair fanning over the pillow as she lays down.

I take a seat at the card table set up near the door.

“You’re not going to sleep?” she asks.

“Nah, not tired yet.” Truthfully, I’m exhausted. But there’s no way I’m going to sleep when someone out there has taken an interest in our little omega. Sure, they might have saved her tonight, but the way they silently and efficiently killed that jackal just means they’re dangerous. Not someone I want anywhere near Cora.

“Is the light going to bother you?” I ask.

“No, I’m fine. I had a roommate in college who always slept with the light on. I got used to it.”

Since she’s alright with the light, I take out my gun and start cleaning it. There’s silence for a while, and I think she’s asleep, until she whispers, “Bear?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“What… what do you think about scent matches? Do you think they’re real?”

What’s with everyone asking me about scent matches all of a sudden? Do I look like an expert or something? I’ve never met anyone who’s scent matched. Not once. I chuckle softly. “Truthfully? I think it’s kind of beautiful. The idea that there’s someone out there who’s perfectly suited for you, body and soul? Yeah, I like that thought.” I snap the last piece back on my gun and tuck it into the holster. “But that kind of thing’s rare. You can be happy with lots of people other than your scent match. Just comes down to what you choose.”

“But…” There’s a hesitancy in her voice that has me leaning forward, peering toward the dark corner of the tent where she’s tucked under a mound of blankets. “What would you do if you found your scent match, and they weren’t someone you… knew, or trusted? Would you pursue it? Or walk away?”

I scratch my beard. “Well, I can’t say for sure. But I think I’d want to see what fate had up her sleeve, you know? I’d want to get to know them a bit first. Though, from what I hear, the bond is pretty intense and makes it hard, at the beginning, to do much other than… well, you know.” I waggle my eyebrows at her to take the awkwardness out of that statement.

Even in the low light, I’m sure she’s blushing.

“And what if… they aren’t… um… good?”

This time I bark out a laugh. “In bed? Damn, Cora, hell if I know. I ain’t never had bad sex.”

“No!” She squeaks. “I didn’t mean it like that! I meant…well, what if they, like, murder people or steal or break the law in some way?”

That sobers me a little. “Huh, guess I never thought of that.” I lean back in my chair, staring up at the ceiling. “I’ll tell you, I think good and bad, right and wrong, are a lot more subjective than people think. I did some things during my time in the military that I’m still not sure were right or wrong, and I had to find a way to live with that. Does it make it any more right than the actions someone without orders may take?” I shake my head.

She sucks in a breath, and suddenly I’m seeing memories I don’t want to see.

I pinch my eyes shut. “Guess what I’m saying is, I’d give fate a chance. At least, I think I would.” It’s not lost on me that I’m giving this little omega the same advice I gave Dr. Slate…while she’s wearing his shirt to bed.

We’re both quiet for a long while after that. Finally, I lay down on the stiff cot, still awake, but resting. When she thinks I’m asleep, she creeps over to the table and picks up the bandana. The one she found this morning. It’s only after she tucks it under her face that her breathing finally becomes steady and she drifts off.