Page 67 of Feral Alphas

The guys swear behind me, but Mufasa’s tongue simply dips out to lick my forehead. He doesn’t even try to grab me, just like at the arena.

Colt jerks me backward, quickly inserting himself between me and the bars. Mufasa growls faintly and everyone lets out a collective breath.

“Rose!” Colt scolds, squeezing my shoulders, but I stare at him defiantly and he turns away to swear into his fist.

“I’ll be damned,” one of the prison guards says, drawing our attention. “That crazed alpha broke a man’s arm two days ago, and there he is licking her forehead.” He wipes sweat from his temples. “I thought for sure she was a goner. But ma’am, I cannot take you to see the other one now.”

A cry slips through my teeth and I sag.

Colt shakes his head. “I’ll restrain her, officer. We’ve come all the way here, so even if it’s only a walk-by, please let us see him.”

The fact Colt gets his way tells me his rank holds quite a bit of sway in this world. It’s a good sign that we’ll be able to bring the feral alphas home, I think.

We’re taken into another part of the facility underground, and the security gets even tighter. Every door is doubled, monitored by cameras and someone operating the doors externally. We all have to say our names before the inner door even opens.

Colt holds my shoulders as we stop in front of Scar’s cell and my breath sputters as I hear the jingle of a chain. His legs are shackled together and I press my fingers to my numb lips. Of course it was the silent Scar. His bleached head twitches, acknowledging our presence, but he doesn’t come to the front.

The cell is only a few feet deep so he’s still close.

I clear my soggy throat. “Hi, Scar. It’s me, Rose. Do you remember me?”

Colt grips my shoulders tighter, and I can’t blame him. But I wouldn’t approach Scar the same way I would Mufasa. I thought he’d have darker regrowth by now considering the shade of his brows, but maybe his hair turned white-blond from stress or damage instead of bleach. The light catches on the old wound marks ringing his neck.

“You probably won’t understand a word I say, Scar, but you need to stop causing trouble. I know why you’re in here instead of up there with Mufasa, but you need to stop hurting people. We’re gonna try and bring you home with me, but you need to be a good man, not a fighting alpha.”

For a moment he does nothing, then he tilts his head to the side and his chest heaves with a deep breath. I could even swear his taut shoulders relax. He recognized my voice, even if he can’t understand what I’m saying.

The guard wipes sweat from his forehead and announces time is up. He’s clearly uncomfortable just being in the same room as Scar.

It hurts to leave, but even more heartbreaking, on the way out I hear Colt mutter under his breath when he thinks I’m occupied, “Why’d it have to be that one?”

Chapter twenty-six

Luka

The silence feels strange after two days with more people in the house. It’s odd enough to have Colt home from work, but Kye’s added footsteps have made me twitch in alarm several times.

So far, he’s been quiet, although I think he’s enjoying a bit of company. He wasn’t keen on the state of his 1950s room at all, and promptly got new blinds fitted and bought a new bed.

We loaded the old one into the garage, which is almost bursting with stuff from Colt’s grandfather’s estate which he never got around to sorting through. He threatened a few years back to haul it all off to a second-hand store, but I know there’s antiques in there that need appraising, so I told him to leave it.

But now we might need to deal with it and make another living space, or at least get Kye’s $200,000 car out of the weather.

My mouth dries up as I switch on my laptop. Reece from the therapy group recently went through his rut and he said he used haze and a cam site called ICU to help him through. Today I’m checking out that site because cleaning house and having a big erection are my only talents. Not counting maiming people—we don’t count that anymore.

I stretch my fingers out several times before I create a new profile. I’ve stayed away from porn for years since Colt always took care of my needs, but I recall obsessions with it when I was younger.

The disclaimers on the site are a mile long, and then I get a simple orientation lesson, which is pretty useful. Everything’s categorized by viewers and creators, which seems like a pretty fancy name for people willing to go live on camera with their body parts. I chew on my lip as I connect my Alpha Cash payment portal.

Seems simple enough. Switch on a camera, show your junk, wait for viewers to log in. I do a quick sweep through the top creator rooms. Some only allow viewers to log in through a pay wall, and some have a free preview which times out after a minute. Since I don’t have a name for myself, I try that option, and disallow voice recorded messages.

There’s a lot of people thrusting their hands into pussies, and a few pairs at work too, which seems pretty bold. But there are fewer cocks than I expected, and certainly few advertising as alpha.

I might suppress everything alpha about myself, but there’s no hiding my alpha-sized junk, especially not with my condition. The idea of whipping it out for any reason while Colt’s not here already has my cock growing with naughty anticipation.

“Shit, Luka, you’re gonna get yourself in so much trouble doing this!” I groan into one fist.

Doubting myself, I do another lap of the bedroom and bathroom to make sure everything’s tidy, and then I catch sight of the overdue land taxes, and I suck in a breath.

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