Page 44 of Feral Alphas

My heart plummets.

Chapter seventeen

Luka

Two hours after his normal home time, Colt throws open the front door, pouring alpha musk. I flinch as the door bounces off the wall and he throws his bag down on the table.

“Not tonight, Luka,” he says as he stalks past me.

He slams into his office, and I cock my head, listening as the cabinet doors open. The rattle of glass sounds a moment later and I realize he’s pouring himself a scotch. Not the cheap one on display in there for when visitors come, which is our private joke because visitors never come, but the good stuff he keeps behind a false wall in the old-fashioned cabinet. His grandfather’s good stuff.

The patriarch left a legacy for the rest of the world, but only a rundown house and a few bottles of top shelf scotch for his grandson.

The only other time I’ve known him to reach for it was when his partner got shot. Not Felina, but the one before. He lived but couldn’t return to work. Thankfully Colt’s practical enough not to have got too caught up on the idea of it being his fault.

Something crashes in the office, and I wince, feeling his pain through the wall, even when I don’t know the cause.

I hang my head and lean on my knees, flexing my toes under me. I know he said not tonight, but this lifestyle isn’t a game I can switch on and off like he does. If I break my routine and start thinking for myself, what happens if I end up on that slippery slope that leads to murder?

It’s okay during the day when the sun’s out. I have my housekeeping app that keeps me on task and organized, and the one day of the week when a service picks me up to drive me to therapy at the Alpha Center. I also take care of the bills, with Colt never asking how I use his money. I know what my role is.

But once night falls, so too does the inner darkness. That’s why I need someone to guide me. Not just anyone, but Colt. A sane person would stand up, go find something to do to occupy themselves, but I’m not a sane person, so I wait for my master to come back and give me guidance.

I roll from my knees to my butt and lean against the wall, the old carpet prickling my naked ass cheeks. He’ll come back when he’s ready.

I lose track of time as I rest my head on my arms, until suddenly I recognize a deviation in the pattern that governs my life. Colt didn’t put his gun away in the kitchen.

Shivers run down my spine as I mentally track back through my memory. No, it wasn’t that he didn’t put it away, he didn’t have one on him when he came home. And that can mean only one thing.

Agent Colt Nesters was suspended.

Tears catch in my lashes, and I swipe them away. He works so fucking hard, and he went through an ordeal in the last week, and they sent him away empty-handed? That’s like putting his pride through the shredder.

In fact, it could even have been helping the omega that started this. He was antsy when he left this morning, and by the burnt citrus scent lingering around me, he’s even more worked up now. I think I caught other alpha scents on him, which makes it worse.

Is this my fault for telling him to go through the omega’s heat with her? If I’d said no, he would have listened to me. Colt’s like that.

Fuck, I hope it’s not an unpaid suspension! I haven’t been able to pay the property taxes yet, and they won’t give me any more extensions. I’ll defer getting the grass cut this month, and that’ll leave us fifty dollars for groceries, but if there’s no pay after that, we’re a sinking ship.

My fault again because I’m leeching off him. When I first became his rehabilitation ward, at least I received a settlement stipend, but that ended after five years. People are supposed to be able to acclimatize by then.

I’m not people. I still get the bloodlust.

I feel it now thinking about the morons who just caned my dom. Which is why I sit here on my hands and do nothing, because I can’t blow the only chance I’ll ever get at a normal life. Not when the alternative is euthanasia.

I lean my head back on the wall and stretch my back out with a sigh. If Colt’s irritated because he’s found his matched omega, there’s an even bigger problem. There’s nothing here to offer one, except his beautiful soul. If the Center calls him with a scent match, I’ll have to leave.

Technically the rehabilitation contract was for five years, so as long as I check in with the Alpha Center, I’m free to leave Colt’s protection.

But the concept and actually setting foot outside this door are worlds apart. Plus, I need to find a way to make money. Both ideas terrify me, and I count through my breathing, settling into a numbing trance before I end up spiraling.

“Oh fuck, Luka! Why didn’t you—?”

I jerk with shock as his voice sounds over me.

Colt snaps off his question and closes his eyes, massaging his forehead. He shakes his head. “No, this is on me. I’m sorry I failed you, Luka. Can you get up?”

Relief floods through me at the careful control in his voice. My master is back. “Yes, Sir.”

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