My Female Alpha

EIGHTEEN

emery

The leash saws against my palm, making the translucent skin red and welted. Three feet ahead of me is Kibbles, my parents' year-old chocolate lab.

Nose to the ground, he jerks me around as he pisses on every mailbox and bush he can. I grunt as he leaps for a squirrel, nearly popping my shoulder from the socket.

Why did I think this would be a good idea?

I trod along behind him, jerking with each of his lunges. He wants to smell and chase everything. Ignoring him, I look around at the houses of this neighborhood—homes I've grown up looking at. Nothing much has changed. Kids go to college and never come back. People get new pets and cars. Sometimes a house gets a facelift and surprises everyone. But that's as wild as it gets.

A wave of panic surges through me. I miss the steadiness of southern suburbia. And it annoys me that I miss it. What annoys and panics me even more is knowing that if I don't get my shit together, I will be back in this town. I can't do that to myself.

My thoughts drift to Lenora. She is the definition of ruin for me. She's unlocked parts of myself I didn't know were under lockdown. Everything about her is enticing. Not only does she want me, but she can handle me.

I dismiss those thoughts with an aggressive head shake. I can't look to her for a solution. These are my life problems. I don't even know who she is or what she wants from me. If she can't treat my friends with even a little amount of respect, how can I expect her to treat me? It doesn't matter how much she wants me if she is only going to use me as a toy.

My chest throbs. I want to be back at my apartment. I want to curl up next to her and I want her to go away. Some weird things are going on with her and Denver and whoever else lives in that big ass house. So why can't I write her off as a tantalizing mistake?

As Kibbles and I turn onto our street, he starts to tug on the leash.

"Woah, easy bud." I tighten my hold on the leash and sigh.

Without warning, he darts forward, jerking the leash out of my hand, and sends me crashing down to the asphalt on my hands and knees. He takes off down the street, barking like a rabid animal. My hands and knees burn but all I can think about is him chasing after some little kid or something.

"Shit! Kibbles!" I yell, pushing myself up.

My skin aches where it caught my fall, little indentations in my palms and kneecaps. I brush my hands against my shirt as I start hobbling after him. But when I look around the street, he's nowhere in sight.

"What the fuck?" I hiss, hurrying along.

His deep bark draws my attention to a yard three houses down. He's standing in the road under a hefty, leaning oak tree while yapping at something up in the tree.

"Kibbles, come!" I call after him.

He is completely focused on his prey, though, and doesn't even spare me a glance. Damn this dog. I grit my teeth and start jogging over to him. The squirrel in the tree scrambles up the trunk at the loud grind of a silver minivan peeling out of its driveway.

Of course, at that exact moment, Kibbles seems to remember that he's a domesticated dog who has been very disobedient. He leaps away from the tree and starts loping toward me, heading right into the path of the minivan.

"No!" I shriek, lurching into a flat-out sprint.

My mind goes blank. All I see is him, the depiction of innocence, about to be run over. Adrenaline pumps through me and I push faster.