Page 57 of Ruled By The Alpha

Chapter 3

Riden inhaled deeply and smiled to himself as a familiar, delicate scent tickled his nose.

The little Omega was still here, in his territory.

After their first encounter, he hadn’t seen her for several days. He imagined she was trying to decide whether to trust him. He gave her no reason to think she couldn’t, but the Alphas before him obviously had. It was hard to resist the instinctive urge to track her, but he’d restrained himself. He certainly hadn’t wanted to chase her off.

When she’d shown up in camp with a meager offering of berries to contribute to a meal the next week, Riden was secretly thrilled. It was likely her empty stomach had more to do with the return than his charming personality, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She’d come back, and that was all that mattered.

She came almost every night, now. She didn’t always bring food, but she never came empty-handed. It was obvious she felt more comfortable bringing something to trade, so he watched his firewood pile grow beyond what he needed for the time he’d be here, and thanked her for each armload she brought.

He hunted harder, ranged further every day. Dwindling game wouldn’t stop him from trying to feed the hungry woman who was tentatively beginning to trust him.

Companionship aside, Riden was glad she stayed close. He still hadn’t learned why she was out here alone, but whatever the reason, she wasn’t safe. Never would be, either. Not so long as she was unbonded. At least inhisterritory, she’d have someone looking after her.

Riden whistled, contorting the call to mimic a type of quail that inhabited the area.

A few moments later, some three hundred yards to the east, a similar call echoed back.

Riden smiled again.

Toward evening when he returned from a long day’s foraging and hunting, he’d taken to calling her to let her know he was headed back to camp when he got close. She was a fast little thing, and sometimes beat him there and started the fire.

Tonight would be a good night. He’d caught a beaver and two fish at the river down-mountain, and found a handful of blackberries on a small, dwindling bush that the woodland creatures seemed to favor, given how few were left. Maybe with a full belly, she’d be comfortable enough to tell him a bit more about herself.

He could always hope.

It infuriated and saddened him to think about how she came to be out here, all alone. Omegas were resilient, but they were also fragile. Their dynamic was gregarious and outgoing, and they rarely did well without family and friends, or at the very least, a mate, to meet their emotional and social needs. Whoever had deprived her of the security and happiness of a normal life deserved a slow and painful death at the hands of a hungry lowland pack.

Riden picked his way through the undergrowth, redirecting his murderous thoughts to the infinitely more pleasant knowledge that he’d see Syra again today.

She didn’t talk that much, but when she did, she was clever and thoughtful. The few times he’d made her smile, he thought it was the sweetest thing he’d seen in ages. He was certain there was an engaging, humorous woman hiding in that suspicious shell of hers. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to see if he was right.

As he broke through the undergrowth above camp, Syra struggled out of the brambles on the opposite side of the small clearing. Riden bit back a smile as he watched her right herself and brush off her clothes, not wanting to embarrass her by laughing at how clumsy she’d been in her rush to beat him there. Her hair, she couldn’t tame, even with the insistent smoothing of her hands. She always tried to wrangle it into a braid, but the effort rarely contained her wild brunette waves. It was one of the things Riden most enjoyed about her. She was a sun-kissed, unapologetically feral beauty.

Syra didn’t have many clothes. He’d seen her in a weathered brown tank top and grey tee, both of which emphasized her tiny waist and the flair of her hips and announced her dynamic as clearly as her scent. She only had one pair of pants: fitted black jeans that were so worn, every seam looked ready to give way. Today was the tank top.

With fall approaching, Riden made a mental note to find her something warmer to wear. If he couldn’t, he’d give her something of his. The idea of her wearing his clothing made his stomach clench and an uninvited warmth bloom low in his core. He cleared his throat loudly enough for her to hear and smiled when she met his gaze.

“Evening, Syra.”

He was far enough away, it was hard to say for sure, but Riden could swear her pupils dilated when he said her name. The corner of her mouth lifted in the suggestion of a smile, but she glanced away hurriedly, busying herself with the bag on her shoulder. “Evening.”

“Good eating tonight.” He declared proudly as he lifted the carrying strap from his shoulder and showed her his day’s prize. Ever the Omega, her expression graciously morphed with the appropriate level of appreciation.

“Wow!”

“I thought so too.” He agreed with a chuckle. “What have you found today?”

She shifted her bag and held it open for him to see. The interior was full of walnut fruits. They’d be a bitch to hull, but Riden nodded his approval.

“Nice haul. Come on, let’s get to work. I’m starving.”

Syra fell into step behind him as he made his way down the incline and into camp. She sat her bag down and went to work on building a fire while Riden went to the cliff’s edge to clean his catch.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, the fire crackled to life behind him, and he heard her seat herself and drag her bag over. With all those walnuts to hull, he thought it was as good a time as any to attempt conversation.

“I can’t help wondering, Syra. How is it you came to be out here alone?” He asked, careful to keep his tone neutral. Not wanting her to feel cornered, he didn’t turn to look at her. He just kept right on with what he was doing and waited to see if she’d respond.

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