Page 109 of Run Wild Omega

The crisp, sweet scent of apples that engulfed her earlier is still there, but something sharp and acrid has crept in. It’s the bitter, metallic tang of distress. Sour, cold, and laced with adrenaline.

My analytical brain clicks into gear instantly. I slide the ruler out and set it aside, leaning over her, my hands resting on either side of her hips.

“Tess,” I say, my voice dropping an octave, laced with quiet concern. “Are you okay?”

She blinks up at me, her cheeks flushing, but the distress in her scent grows stronger, conflicting with her calm expression. She swallows hard, looking away toward the dark window.

“I… yeah,” she whispers, her throat working. “Just… a bad nightmare.”

“What was it?”

She shivers, pulling the duvet tighter around her chest. “The avalanche,” she says, her voice barely audible. “Being back in that crevice. The snow burying me alive. The cold… I couldn’t breathe, Miles. I woke up and I thought I was still under the slide.”

The vulnerability in her voice cuts right through me. I remember reading her SAR rescue file—the broken radio, the sub-zero temperatures, the sheer terror of waiting in the dark for a rescue that almost didn’t come in time.

I look at her for a long moment. “Do you want me to drive you home?” I ask gently. “To your parents’ place? Or Mara’s?”

Tess looks up, her eyes locking onto mine, completely stripped of pretense. She shakes her head slowly.

“No,” she whispers, reaching out to touch my wrist. Her fingers are slightly cold. “Actually… can you just hold me for a bit?”

My heart does a strange flip in my chest.

“Yeah,” I say. “I can do that.”

I shift on the mattress, swinging my legs up onto the bed. Tess moves immediately, sliding over to make room. I lie back against the plush pillows, and without a second of hesitation, she curls into my side.

I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her flush against my chest. She rests her head over my heart, her good leg draping over mine while her cast rests on top of the duvet.

The acrid scent of her fear slowly begins to dissipate, replaced once again by her sweet, familiar scent as she melts against me. Her breath slows, fanning warmly against my ribs.

I rest my chin lightly on the crown of her head, my fingers tracing soothing circles on her upper arm. The quiet of the mountain night wraps around the apartment, heavy and peaceful.

Tomorrow brings the legal chaos, Rourke, the emergency pack filings, and the complicated reality of the situation we’ve created. But right now, as her breathing turns deep and rhythmic and she drifts off to sleep in my arms, none of that exists.

I close my eyes, breathe her in, and let myself fall asleep.

Tess

Iwake up warm, a full-body, radiating heat that seeps into my muscles and melts the tension right out of my bones. A heavy arm is draped across my waist, a broad chest is pressed flush against my back, and a steady heartbeat thumps against my shoulder blade.

For three blissful, disoriented seconds, I have no idea where I am.

Then the events of last night flood back in a hazy, tequila-scented wave. The Bluejay. Karaoke. Miles driving me here. The chips. The crying. The thumb in my mouth and the grinding on the sofa and the embarrassing, glorious mess I made of him.

Oh god.

And now, pressed firmly against the curve of my backside, unmistakable even through the fabric of his sweatpants and my jeans, is his erection.

It is substantial.

My breath catches. I blink at the gray morning light filtering through the high bedroom window, my brain warring between the urge to stay perfectly still and the impulse to bolt. Miles’s arm tightens around my waist, pulling me closer, and his hips shift in his sleep. The hard length of him slides against me, sending a jolt of electricity straight between my thighs.

I need to get up. I need to pee. I need to process what the hell is happening to my life.

I move carefully, sliding my hand down to lift his arm. I shift my weight, trying to swing my good leg off the mattress without jostling the cast. My feet barely touch the floor when his arm snaps back around my waist, yanking me backward against his chest with a firm tug.

“Stay,” he murmurs, his lips pressing against the back of my neck. The word is sleep-rough and muffled, vibrating against my skin. He trails warm, open-mouthed kisses along the column of my throat, his nose brushing the sensitive spot just below my ear.