Page 78 of Secret Heart
TRISTON
Iawake all at once like a pebble dropped into the lake. I gasp as I sit up, ignoring the way my head spins. There’s a lingering ache behind my eyes, and my body feels like I’ve been riding nonstop for days, the soreness in my limbs more intense than even the longest days in the saddle moving the Monroe cattle through the mountains. The room is dark, only a small light a foot above the wall to my left casting shadows. It’s so similar to how I woke in April after the Drop that my body has phantom spasms. I clench the blanket around my hips and breathe deeply. I need to pull myself together, figure out where I am and how I got here.
Vague memories push their ways to the surface of my mind. The mad gaze of Tyler as he tightened his hand on my throat. The murmuring of voices and the bright lights of a white room. The pounding in my head from the fast beeping of a machine. Or had it been an alarm? I can’t remember. Warm arms that weren’tmywarm arms, weren’t either of the ones I crave in my sleep and have haunted my dreams for two years. A deep voicethat wasn’t the one that sent thrills down my spine and a flush to my cheeks. Lavender and… and vanilla. My stomach clenches.
“Triston?” Emily’s warm voice is tired, only a bare whisper. A palm presses into my thigh. “Are you all right?”
Vanilla surrounds me, bringing the promise of comfort and safety. I tip my head back and let my eyes close, breathing in the heady scent. A soft weight moves beside me, and then there’s a hand cupping my cheek, tipping my head forward. I don’t open my eyes, too exhausted to do even that much despite just waking up. Lips press against mine, soft and full and sweet.
My own scent swirls around me, potent but not overwhelming.
“The edge is gone,” Emily whispers, her lips brushing mine. “Do you need me?”
Always.
But that doesn’t feel like the right answer.
Edge to my scent? Another memory pushes to the forefront. A small needle with the cap broken. A trail of blood on my arm. A wracking cramp that had me gasping for breath. A trigger medication forcing my heat to surface while at dinner with Lance. My stomach twists, stealing my breath. The lips are back, pressing harder than before, a tongue tracing along them. The vanilla gets stronger, soaking into my bones.
“Emily?”
“It’s me.”
Hands skate down my sides and wrap around my waist. It’ssohard to keep focused. Despite everything, my dick hardens, responding to her scent as much as her touch. She hums and then runs her lips along my jaw. She pulls the sensitive skin just behind my ear between her teeth, pulling hard enough I gasp.
“Where’s Beau?”
There’s a long, heavy pause.
“At home,” she whispers.
“Home,” I echo. Her hair brushes against my cheek as she nods. I blindly reach for her, palming the nape of her neck and twisting my hand into her hair, trying to anchor myself. More memories swirl, mostly blurry. A swath of light that hurts my eyes, Emily’s voice reverberating through me while she talked to someone else. The latch of a door. I can’t manage to arrange any of them in an order that makes sense.
“I… I don’t understand,” I finally admit hoarsely. Her tongue traces my Adam’s apple. I swallow heavily, tightening my hold in her hair, terrified this is some strange delusion from a Drop.
“That’s okay,” she says. “They said you might be confused when you woke up. Triggered heats can cause that.”
Triggered heat.
The memory slams into me, clear and concise. My clove scent lashes out, acrid with my fear. Emily croons, wrapping her arm around my waist, pulling me closer until my chest is flush with hers. I let my legs fall open, and then she’s there, too, her knees pressing into mine.
“You’re safe, Triston.” The words are a whisper that floats toward me. I desperately latch onto them. “Someone tried to bond you, but Lance got to you in time. We’re at the Haven in Billings.”
“Billings.”
Her head bobs with another nod. Her tongue traces the hollow of my throat. My dick jumps. I can’t help but groan and pull her away from me. I force my eyes open, soaking in the sight of her, my Alpha. Her eyes have deep circles under them, and her mouth is swollen. Her hair falls straight down her back, newly cleaned. Her arms and back are scratched to high heaven, like she went traipsing through the underbrush of the mountains without a shirt. I slowly trace one of the cuts, and she shivers. Her eyes blow out, and her vanilla scent wraps around me.
“What time is it?” My voice is even more hoarse than before. Compulsively, I clear my throat.
She turns, looking over her shoulder. I follow her gaze and notice a small digital clock on a dresser beside the door to the room. Three in the morning.
“How long?”
“Five days.”
I swallow.
She continues, “The Haven called me when you got here after the doctors said you were stable. Caleb flew me in the dead of night. It… it was too long, though. You were going to be hurt if I made you wait for me to get here. So I…” Her cheeks flush. “I gave them permission to let you be with another Alpha so you wouldn’t risk Dropping.”
