CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Della
A thunderous press of emotions loomed, rumbling like a distant avalanche and filling her with just as much terror.
It was the sex. The sex ruined her. His seduction so skilled and covert, Cal had sliced her open with surgical precision, the cut so quick and sure she hadn’t realized till it was too late. Emotions she’d sought in the pages of her photo album hemorrhaged out of her in gush after spurting gush. For decades they’d stayed dormant only to return at her most vulnerable moment. Not at home in her cozy cabin surrounded by safety and security when she might be able to process them, but bared before this Alpha, unprotected as he snooped around the walled-off corridors of her heart.
Pain flooded those hidden cloisters and dimly-lit coves, collecting anguish she’d sequestered for the people she’d lost. Family, close and extended, friends, colleagues, acquaintances, young and old, men and women alike, but Cal hadn’t asked about them. He’d stuck his finger in the wound and asked about Rakesh.
Rakesh, her loving husband whom she’d not thought ofonceas she’d fucked this Alpha on a dirty cave floor in the middle of nowhere. Guilt crested like a crimson wave. How could she? How could she talk about Rakesh with combined slick and semen still slippery on her skin? How could she even whisper his name when Cal had driven his knot so deep he’d pushed out the memory of any other cock she’d ever known?
Even worse, how could she force the damning words past her lips? Rakesh hadn’t failed to protect her;she’dfailed to protecthim. Like she’d failed her father and brother and staff and every single other constituent who’d voted for her and every single one who didn’t.
Pressing her fingertips to her eyelids to avoid Cal’s compelling gaze, Della labored to stanch the bleeding. It was the past. It would always be the past. Only the here and now mattered.
Solve the problem, solve the problem.
Things had gotten out of hand. Her sense of smell, this transformed Omega business, her own lust, all of it diverted her attention from her goal. She needed to rewind this unspooled mess to get back to safety. She needed to gohome. Whatever connection they’d forged in the course of the lovemaking—no, thesex, just sex—had to be severed.
As if fleeing a predator, Della scrambled off Cal’s lap and reached for her discarded shirt. “I’m tired,” she said, stuffing her head into the garment. Eyes averted, she pushed arm after arm through, yanking it as far down as she could to cover her lower half. It didn’t go nearly far enough.
“Della.” Displeasure crept into his voice. “Della, look at me.”
She folded her arms over her chest and refused his command by turning her head to stare out the cave opening. “This isn’t what you think it is, Cal.” Determined to fix this, she spoke with as much confidence as she could muster. “You seem like a nice enough man,”—she paused to purse her lips—“for a kidnapper, I suppose, and maybe bedding an old woman is interesting to you as a novelty. But, beyond that, there’s no happiness to be found with me.” Della clenched her jaw. “I don’t have anything to give you.”
“No.” He barked the rebuke. “That’s not true.”
No? Not true? She wanted to laugh. He didn’t care for her inquisition? Didn’t appreciate her attempt to get to know him and devise a solution to this mess that would serve both of them? Hethoughthe wanted her, but only because he didn’t know any better, didn’t know what a gnarled, dried-up wreck of a person she was.
Well, then, the gloves were off. Squaring her shoulders, Della charged headfirst into a reckless new strategy: blatant, painful, unhinged honesty. “You said you wouldn’t lie to me, so I’m giving you the same respect.” She cut him a side-eyed glare, not backing down at the hardened set of his mouth. “Sex is all I can offer. There’s simply nothing else.”
After a single taut second, he sprang into action. Groping for his pants, Cal heaved himself to his feet, glowering as he fastened his fly, his patience seemingly exhausted. Hazel eyes flashed with accusation and... hurt. The look chilled her, and a tense quaking started in the muscles between her shoulder blades, a biting discomfort at his obvious irritation.
Alpha is unhappy.
A sweet, feminine voice crooned inside her head, and Della smacked her palm against her brow. Was shehearingshit now? More concussion symptoms or a sign of impending insanity? No shit, he was unhappy. This was the AfterEnd; who in the fuck got to be happy?
He won’t hurt you. Take care of Alpha, and he’ll take care of you.
She stifled a snort. Ignoring the irritating voice and its smug declarations, Della snatched at a blanket that unfortunately reeked of their union and covered her lower body. Cal seethed, his hostility like the pounding surf against her weary spirits.
“Listen.” Heaving a great sigh as if fighting for serenity, Cal squatted before her. The heat of him seeped into her as if the thin layers of clothing ceased to exist. Della shuddered, remembering the touch of his skin crushed against her own, his weight on her body, his knot sealing them together. Coffee-cinnamon scent braided a web of deliciousness around her, his aroma somehow more complex and wonderful after their joining.
More, that cloying voice said.You want more.
No. No, shedidn’t.
Cal interlaced his fingers so tight the knuckles cracked, thankfully distracting her from those base physical musings. No more of that shit tonight. He cleared his throat. “Whatever happened, exactly none of it was your fault. No one would expect you to do anything more’n survive. You did that, and I’m grateful for it because it brought you to me.” His chin lowered, and his voice took on a warning tone. “But that don’t mean you get to dictate what you are or aren’t doing for me. Not now, not ever.”
Heat shot to her head like a volcano blast. The fucking gall of this guy. Even for an Alpha, it strained believability. He had no difficulty telling her all the things he wanted from her: be an Omega, be his mate, take his knot, blah blah blah. But she didn’t get a say in any of it?
Fuck that. Fuck it all the way to hell.
“I’ll tell you whatyou’redoing for me,” she sniped, diving into the conflict like a pilot on a suicide mission. “Tomorrow, you’re taking me back home to Morris Hill.”
“Like hell I am.” Cal spat the words out.
His constructed calm shattered, and the pungent scent of Alpha anger spiked the air. Della wrinkled her nose against the stench as two things became apparent. One, he didnotlike her telling him what to do. Two, although his ire peaked to a new level, it failed to rouse any kind of fear response in her body. Just like that first night, she felt safe with him, even if it made no sense.