Twisted (Savage Alpha Shifters 2)

My heart is pounding hard against my chest wall as the door shuts and locks.

As I stuff my dirty underwear and jeans inside the bag, I hear, “Baby.” And the sound of his voice sets off something in me that feels like an alarm.

I steel myself against the strange sensation and look over my shoulder, seeing him set the watch and thick silver chain down on the console table across from where I’m squatted.

It’s a man’s watch. A man’s necklace. She was returning those to him. An ex-girlfriend?

I swallow and it’s as if something ugly has slithered down my throat into my gut. My hands are shaking as I rifle through my suitcase.

Maybe she’s not any more of an ex than Rick is. Maybe she’s his current girlfriend and he’s just dumped her because he thinks I’m his fated mate. Maybe that gorgeous redhead with the motorcycle would be his actual soulmate if not for my aunt’s meddling.

If so, no wonder she looked at me like that. If Mason was mine and some bitch stole him from me, I’d file my nails into points and go for her face with them.

Maybe she heard through the grapevine that her guy just had sex with some girl because he ‘smelled’ her and thought she was his destiny.

And Rick’s face flashes through my mind, the face I imagine he might make finding out that I’ve spent the whole day getting fucked by another man. My engagement ring that he had made for me lost. Not only lost, but that I’m awful enough to have felt relieved to have it off my finger for the first time in months.

A hollowness spreads through my chest and I burst into tears. And it’s audible crying, ugly-crying, nothing lady-like or pretty about it.

He’s lifting me. I’m trying to hold my blanket sarong around myself, wanting to communicate that he should put me down, that his blanket is going to be soiled with the cum that’s got me all sticky, but the noises I make just come out as crying-blabber, which is impossible to understand.

He moves us back to the couch and arranges me on his lap.

I bring the hankie in my hand to my face to deal with the tears and realize it’s not a hankie. It’s a pair of clean panties.

Shoot.

He pulls my face into his chest, murmuring, “Wildberry.”

“Le-let go,” I finally manage.

“I don’t wanna let go. Amelia. Not ever, baby.”

I make one of those horrible hiccup-sob sounds. Oh God, I’m a walking disaster.

Mason’s deep, purring vibration noise moves over, around, and through me. It gets louder and louder and I soon find myself melted. A puddle of Amelia-goo in his lap, my cheek against his chest as I’m absorbing the sensation. The sound. His smell. His warmth.

Amelia’s anti-anxiety medication. Organic, holistic, calorie-free.

I bet the beautiful redhead wishes she could be comforted by this sound right now. Did he make this noise for her when she was upset? Did he hold her like this yesterday before he smelled me?

When all this is over, I should get a cat. Okay, so I hardly think a little feline will be able to purr the way he does. And a cat won’t be able to hold me, making me feel so… safe. But the sound of a purr once in a while might be nice.

Moments later, I’m still in his arms, snuggled close, and the vibrations stop because he speaks.

“She’s nobody,” he says, stroking my hair.

“I could not care less,” I reply, but even as I say it, I know I don’t sound very convincing.

“Serious. I met her not long ago and it was just a quick –”

“Stop.”

“…Evening. I left some jewelry behind and…”

I scoff again. “I saw. You don’t owe me anything, Mason.”

He keeps going, “I didn’t know you existed and if I had, it wouldn’t have happened. She shouldn’t have come here. I wasn’t returnin’ her calls and she decided to drive down here. She’s a shifter so she certainly should’ve turned her bike around when she caught that scent.”

“Scent?” I lift my head off his chest and look at his face. Mistake, because the look of concern and warmth in his expression makes me want to burst into fresh tears.

“The day an alpha mates for the first time, his first knot triggers his claiming scent. That covers the territory he’s in. It’s prevalent for at least a good mile around this place right now. She knows what that scent is and should never have come here.”

I guess that explains the fact that I keep smelling what I can only describe as Christmas morning. And who can resist that smell? Certainly not me, evidently.

“You don’t owe me any explanations, Doggo. You can let go of me now.”

“I feel you, Amie. I feel something’s wrong right now. Talk to me.”