Page 11 of The Feral Alpha

The alpha blinked. He worked his mouth a few times as though he was trying to speak, but no sound came out. Eventually, when Olson was on the verge of picking out a name for him, the man said, rustily, “Rex.”

“Rex?” Olson echoed faintly.

There was only one other person he knew by that name. Rex had been a kid in a fast food restaurant, antsy and wild. Olson would’ve forgotten him if not for that bonding mark Rex had sunken into his wrist.

I’ll come back to marry you. Don’t die.

Time and again, Olson wondered where that kid had ended up. He had to be... in his late teens now, maybe early twenties?

Rex had never come back. Olson refused to think about the bad, niggling feeling he got whenever he lingered too long on those words.

Don’t die.

It reminded him a little too much of George.

He shoved those thoughts out of his mind. This had to be a coincidence. “You’re called Rex, too?”

Rex nodded and wrapped his fist around Olson’s wrist, pressing his thumb against the bonding marks.

Olson’s breath hitched. Just a coincidence. “You don’t happen to be the same Rex, do you? The one who bit me at Fast Fries.”

Rex stared blankly at him. Not the same person, then.

Besides, that other Rex had been chatty. Bright and brash. So different from this alpha.

Rex squeezed Olson’s wrist. He brought it up to his lips, dragging his teeth over the bonding marks on Olson’s scent gland.

Olson snatched his hand back. “You won’t put your mark on me.”

Rex growled. “Mine.”

He took Olson’s hand again, opening his mouth like he was about to bite Olson’s wrist.

“No!” Olson glowered and yanked his hand away. “Not yours!”

The alpha scowled.

Then he ducked his head, and the next thing Olson knew, sharp teeth pressed against the crook of his neck, over the scent gland there.

Rex bit down so hard that pleasure jolted through Olson’s body.

Olson stared at him in shock. Anger flared hot through his veins; he shoved at the alpha with a snarl. “Fuck! I told you no!”

“Mine,” Rex growled back. “All mine.”

When Olson touched the bite, his fingers came away with blood. Fuck! Rex had left a godsdamn bonding mark right over George’s.

“That was my alpha’s bonding mark!” Olson cried, shoving at the alpha again. “Damn you! That’s all I have left of him!”

Even though it had been twenty-one years, it still hurt.

Rex hesitated, pulling back. But he didn’t look sorry about the bite at all. “Mine,” he growled.

“I’m not fucking yours,” Olson hissed. He shoved so hard that Rex leaned back.

Maybe they’d been knotted long enough; Rex’s knot receded. The moment Olson got his arms and legs between them, he managed to push the man bodily off him.

He rolled to his feet and began yanking his clothes back on, hopping awkwardly on the forest floor.

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