Page 78 of Feral Alphas

He doesn’t flinch, which means he knew I was here. I can’t look at him kneeling without picturing how he greets Colt by the front door each day in the buff. Handsome, keen senses, strong, jack of all trades, and confident; and yet this guy turns into a wallflower the moment Colt steps in the door. An enigma.

“Sure, hold this up.”

I hold the carpet warily and shallow breathe to avoid the dust as he slices the knife along the edge of a taped line. “This is where the second room will go?”

“Yeah.” His tattooed hands flex as he exerts force down on the blade.

“Sucks for Colt to lose most of his office.”

He nods. “It does. We usually spend our evenings in here, but maybe it’s a good thing if he works less. We’ll have an omega in the house, after all.”

I hum under my breath. “I doubt any of us will get a single shred of work done in this house after she arrives.”

He laughs and turns into my feet to cut at right angles. His blond hair swings against his shoulders, brushing across his clean-shaven face. Thankfully he’s fully clothed. During the day he seems as normal as any other quiet fellow I’ve met, except for a near-OCD obsession with his housekeeping routine. His face is familiar-looking, but I can’t place which of my associates he reminds me of.

The blade sheaths into the gray handle as he finishes, and I tug the carpet away. He comes to help, and we drag it out into the pile of rubbish growing steadily in the backyard.

Curiosity tugs at my mind. “Can I ask a personal question?”

“Sure.” He dusts off his hands and knees.

“Are you truly okay with being a submissive? Like, you’re not being forced?”

He smiles. “I’m sure it looks odd to you, but please don’t think that way of Colt. He’s the most respectful man I’ve ever met.” He opens the back sliding door for me to go through first and adds, “I’m the one who asked to be his submissive.”

That catches me off guard. “Really?” I take another look at him while he gets a scraping tool and a bit of acid to clean the carpet glue off the wooden floorboards.

“Yes. I had to beg him for it, since he’s never done this lifestyle before. He took lessons to learn it for me.”

Luka never releases any scent, which I thought was impossible until I met him, so there’s no way to confirm his status, but I have an inkling he’s an alpha. He’s got the goods for it. I’ve never heard of an alpha being a submissive. Yeah, we all expect to acknowledge a pack alpha one day and maybe even take their bond, but that’s not the same as a dom/sub relationship.

My wiry packmate swivels easily in his crouch. “You’re not even aware of it, but you live everyday with the weight of responsibility on you. What you’ll wear today, how you’ll make money, which route you’ll take to the Alpha Center. And more impactful stuff, like what’s your role in this pack, are you the person you want to be? Self-sufficiency.”

I grab gloves and one of the metal spatulas and scrub half-heartedly at the globs of dried glue, which are probably older than the pyramids.

“Decision-making is a normal weight for most people, but for me it’s—” he pauses and tucks hair behind one ear, searching for words. “Not healthy.”

Well, that makes astounding sense when he puts it that way, and I hum under my breath in understanding. “My dad talked once about decision fatigue in business. It’s one of the reasons he wears the exact same suit every day and makes his secretary choose his tie.” Mom used to have that task, before she passed.

“Right.”

And maybe Luka’s a bit lucky, not having to worry about those things for himself, but I know full well there’s a catch. “Guess it requires a lot of trust then.” The dom/sub relationships I witnessed didn’t last long, because at the end of the day people only care about themselves.

“You betcha. Ain’tnobody more trustworthy than Colt Nesters.”

This crappy house and weird pack is such a far cry from the grand composer Rephnelium Nesters that I really wish they didn’t share the same surname, but what’s a guy to do? “That’s high praise.”

“Well earned. I’ve been in his care for fourteen years and seen a lot.”

I’m not convinced. Colt’s surly and a bit overbearing. We haven’t clashed so far because everything’s still new, but I can see him trying to lay down his own law if we disagree in future.

My phone rings from the other room and I peel off my gloves and race down the hall. Scott’s name flashes up, so I answer it. I’ve ignored a few calls from my own dad this week.

“Hey, Kye.”

“Hi, Scott. Been awhile.”

“Yeah, sorry kiddo. You know how crazy it gets. How’s your music going?”

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