Page 147 of Feral Alphas

The black-haired agent snorts and pops his chin on his fist. “Don’t think I’m a shrinking violet, okay? When I was eighteen, I lost the love of my life. His name was Harrison and we went to school together.”

Hard to say how I know, but pieces click together in my mind. “An omega?”

“Yeah. After that, all I wanted to do was protect omegas, but without any of the connection. It hurts too much, you know?”

He shrugs like he didn’t get his teenage heart torn to shreds. “But Colt’s the kind of man it’s hard to look away from, and I saw what he was willing to go through for you, and how hard you were fighting to claim back your life. It got me thinking that love and pain always go together hand-in-hand.”

Liam leans his fist against his mouth and clears his voice, before dropping his hand back to the table. “Sappy huh? Just boils down to the fact I’m a coward.”

His vulnerability hits me in the chest, and I rest my hand on top of his for a moment, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine.

“You’re a good fellow, Liam.”

The agent keeps eye contact as he provocatively licks up the length of his fork, brows lifting for good measure.

My shoulders pulse with a silent laugh. “Yeah,goodmight be pushing it,” I mutter, heat running through my cheeks as I remember the things this man has typed while watching my ICU feed. I adjust my ass on the chair and focus on my food before this damn tempter makes me forget about waiting.

Chapter fifty-six

Luka

Six people makes for a very full house, especially with Liam dropping by as often as he does in the weeks that follow the home invasion. He swipes my spare house keys and lets himself in whenever he pleases. Sneaky bastard is growing on me.

Getting shot in the shoulder fucking hurts, and I have to add physiotherapy to my outings, which I’m not impressed with. But the pain tells me I’m still alive.

Liam pretty much manages the house for three whole weeks while Rose is in heat, wringing every last ounce of energy out of all her alphas. At least I caught the last week of it and helped her to finally break free of her own pheromones.

The biggest surprise comes from our ferals. They both stay with Rose in the nest, and we teach them how to shower themselves and tend to her. Since Colt bonded Uno, he hasn’t tried to attack any of us and the only time he goes back in a cage is when Colt’s work partner Felina comes by, bringing batches of cooked meals and omega vitamin boosters.

Uno completely ignores everyone except Rose and Colt, like we don’t exist, but that’s a good alternative to venting his murderous instincts. By comparison, Zane revels in affection, catching up ona lifetime of missed hugs and kisses from anyone who will accept them.

And now that Rose’s heat has broken and we’ve caught up on some sleep, we’re trying to reorganize ourselves and get on with this strange new life of ours.

“What have we got, Colt?” I ask, sticking my head into the garage where he’s sorting through the storage after work. We decided it’s time we got this space back.

“Let me see?” Kye says, gently pushing past me.

Colt crooks his finger at the musician and he goes to his side and rolls up his sleeve. Our pack master inspects the bond bite and licks it a few times. It healed over a while ago, but Colt’s taking no chances and from the way Kye’s face droops, it’s a relaxing sensation. I want my own, but I’m not quite ready to ask. Plus, I know Colt and Kye have a different kind of relationship.

“All this furniture can go to the secondhand store,” Colt says when he’s done tending the bond wound.

“Hold on a second,” Kye says, peering at an old-fashioned writing desk with drawers and a pull-down cover. He inspects all the sides. “This is Peressian Design walnut. See the maker’s stamp here in the corner?”

Colt looks at him blankly.

Kye sighs. “It’s over two hundred years old, Colt. They’re valuable antiques.”

Our pack alpha shrugs. “Well, I’ve got no use for them and they’re taking up space. Some bastard left them here when we got the house.”

Kye throws his hands up as Colt and I share an amused look. The musician scowls at us both for not taking this seriously. “I’ll take the desk into my room, and I’ll get someone out to value the rest.”

“Fine. You have two weeks,” Colt says and switches his attention to our boxes of tax records, sorted by year. “We can throw these out if they’re more than ten years old, right?”

“Yes.” I step forward to lift a box, but Colt growls at me and waves me off.

“Stop. Back away. No lifting for you! Go see if Rose is ready for our movie night.”

I lift my hands in surrender and step away, nearly tripping on another pile of boxes.

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