Page 60 of The Butcher

My mother explained that not all alphas, not all men in general, were like the ones we dealt with at the ranch. She said my father was nothing like them, and neither was her father from what she could remember. Mother told me that there are good men out there, ones who would never even dream of putting an omega through the things we experienced, but I had a hard time believing that.

After what I went through, I honestly decided that it was next to impossible.

Then I found myself in Obsidian Falls.

I’m trying to keep things in perspective; I keep reminding myself that this entire situation is a fluke, and it could easily mean the kindness of the men I’ve met here is the same.

I should have my guard up, I should be leery and cautious. I never should have let Mona leave me alone with male strangers who have a dangerous air about them, but I did. She left, I barelytried to stop her, and ever since then, I’ve experienced things that prove my previous line of thinking wrong.

That should scare me, they should scare me, but that’s the furthest from how I’m feeling, and I can only hope that I don’t live to regret it.

Shaking my head, I reach for the pencil that the note was wrapped around, and write my response with butterflies in my stomach.

I would loveto have dinner with you.

I don’t addanything else, I don’t even sign my name, but just as I take a deep breath and get to my feet, ready to slide the invitation back out into the hallway, something inside me flips.

It isn’t nerves. I have them, sure, it isn’t like I’ve ever been asked to dinner by anyone before so that’s where they’re coming from, but that’s not what I just felt when I stood up. It was like… it was like my stomach dropped all the way down to my toes then shot back up into my throat before my hands start to tingle. That almost felt like a response to fear, or even pain. One that I haven’t felt since I’ve been here, but had regularly when I was at the ranch.

It doesn’t feel like it should be happening here, though.

This place, this little town, it’s new and that is a little scary, but overall, I’ve never felt safer than I do now. The way my insides dropped? That is something to be afraid of, and I don’t like it one bit.

Swallowing hard, I try to breathe through whatever this is, one hand flat against my stomach while the other clutches the note and pencil so tightly I hear the wood start to crack. I don’t like this feeling, don’t like how it came on so quickly, and how it’s so strong that I almost feel sick.

Maybe I need some more water.

It’s possible that’s all this is, not keeping myself hydrated enough, and after such an eventful day, it isn’t shocking that I’d feel somewhat out of sorts.

That must be it.

So, I shake the feeling off while I keep trying to convince myself I’m thirsty, exit my nest, then move to the bedroom door.

“Indy,” Clayton shouts at the same time I bend to send my note through. I jump backward, my heart racing even though hearing his voice puts me at ease a little. “Indigo, are you awake?”

I crack the door and peek out into the hallway. “I was just about to send your invitation through.”

He gives me a smile but it’s all wrong.

Clayton’s smiles are bright and full of life, they’re loud and charming, just like him. His entire person lights up when he smiles, but that’s not happening right now. No, right now this man almost looks like he’s going to be sick to his stomach, too.

He looks exactly like I felt a moment ago.

I pull the door open all the way as my brow furrows. “What is it?”

“I…” he says as he shakes his head. “Indy, I hate to drop this on you, especially in this kind of way, but you’re going to have to meet Bramley tonight.”

“Why?” I all but gasp as my guts roll. “He doesn’t like me. He wouldn’t?—“

“He’s hurt, we don’t know how bad, but we have to go to Nan’s place, and I don’t want you staying here alone. Neither of us do.”

I can appreciate that, I don’t particularly want to be alone, but I’m not sure meeting the man who seems to loathe my existence is a great alternative. “I could always just sit in thetruck? Maybe? I don’t need to…” My words trail off as the full scale of what he said registers. “He’s hurt?”

Clayton nods. “He took off after he and Nash fought, most likely decided to go hunting, and since it wasn’t planned at all, things went south.”

That’s not a phrase I’m very familiar with but judging by his expression, it isn’t good, and I don’t like seeing that look on his face. So, I nod my head and turn back to where my flannel is hanging by the fireplace.

“If he’s mean to me?—“

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