Page 4 of Wolf Lost

All that being true, there were still packs where omegas were treated like lesser beings. The fact that Kismet’s pack had an alpha who didn’t was promising. Sawyer hadn’t known there was a pack in Kismet, but if they were willing to take him in, even for a day or two, it could make all the difference.

If this alpha were willing to protect him, it could save what was left of his life. His home and his friends and his stuff were all back in California, but he could start over.

He turned to the alpha and let his gaze drift up to focus on his face for a moment before dropping it back down to the floor. The alpha was handsome and in his prime, and definitely not interested in some omega who was on the run from the pack of his birth. Established packs didn’t usually take in strays, and that was what Sawyer was now.

The silence in the room had become oppressive while he’d been musing. The alpha was looking at him expectantly, and with good reason. He’d come, uninvited, into the wolf’s territory, and forced him into a confrontation with two strangers. Hell, for all he knew, the order to leave was for him too.

Embarrassingly, his stomach grumbled. It was still determined to find the source of that scent, all warm and rich and chocolatey. It wasn’t the cafe, since for all intents and purposes, the cafe didn’t exist. It seemed to be coming from the alpha himself.

Sawyer didn’t believe all that wolf-romance-novel stuff about mates smelling like apples and roses and cinnamon to each other; people smelled like people, and there was no such thing as mates. Mates were a kid’s story to explain a concept that made grownups uncomfortable: lust.

The alpha was frowning at him now, and dammit, he needed to say something instead of sniffing the air like an uncontrolled pup. “I’m, um, Sawyer.” Excellent. That was perfect. He was um Sawyer.

One corner of the alpha’s lips quirked up for a second before falling back into his resting angry face, so fast Sawyer almost thought he’d imagined it. It was a much better response than he’d expected, though, so he gave the alpha his biggest grin in return.

“Sawyer Holt,” he reiterated, then continued, “of the... formerly of the Holt pack, in Bakersfield.”

The alpha glanced over at the door, then back at Sawyer, and nodded. “Desmond Sullivan. I take it those goons were from the Holt pack?”

Sawyer swallowed hard, but nodded. “Yeah. They were—I was—I mean, I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m not running from the law or anything like that.”

That actually made the alpha—Desmond—smile. “No, really? Because those guys didn’t seem sketchy at all, the way they slunk out of here.”

Sawyer thought that had more to do with the alpha’s dominant presence, but a guy like Desmond didn’t need to hear that. It would sound like ass-kissing or a come-on, and while Sawyer wasn’t against either of those things, it probably wasn’t the best way to go into the conversation.

His stomach twisted again, a hunger pang, but he was distracted from it by the way his head seemed to come untethered—like it was going to float away without him. Maybe he should sit down. The floor was hardwood, but at least he was inside, out of the biting wind.

“Sawyer?” Desmond asked, and there was actual concern in his voice. “Are you okay?”

It was almost overwhelming.

When he’d been slowly pushed out of his own pack over the last few months, his old friends and neighbors had all started giving him the side-eye and asking each other why the Holt boy couldn’t just accept that his father was gone, and try to make peace for the pack’s sake. Why wouldn’t he simply accept their new alpha, who had challenged Sawyer’s father and killed him fair and square, in the disgusting, antiquated tradition of their people’s barbaric past?

It was the damned twenty-first century. No one did that anymore. It had been hundreds of years since anyone considered it an acceptable practice. But his pack had acted like he was the ridiculous one for thinking it wrong.

It took him a moment to realize that the noise in his ears was his own pulse rushing, and black spots danced before his eyes.

“Sawyer?” Desmond asked again. He uncrossed his legs and started to stand, but that was when three men came through from the back of the cafe.

One was a skinny little human in a red blazer that looked two sizes too big, and the other two were... were...

Ancestors help him, the other two were both alphas. Three alpha wolves in a single room.

Alphas could meet on neutral ground sometimes, and while there was much posturing, they didn’t always kill each other.

From the way he had reacted to the betas, this cafe was clearly Desmond’s territory. Two strange alphas showing up on another’s territory could only mean one thing. Sawyer was in the middle of a territory dispute, and someone was about to die.

He hoped very much that it wasn’t Desmond, but the rushing in his ears amped up, and the black spots in front of him coalesced into one huge ball of darkness that filled his vision.

With no small measure of annoyance, he realized he was passing out, like some kind of damned damsel in distress.

4

I’ll Stand by You

“Is he a friend of yours?” the realtor asked, peering over at Sawyer where he’d fallen instead of moving to help.

Before Dez managed to push himself off the crate, Asher leapt over the counter and went to Sawyer’s side. After checking his pulse and breathing, Ash looked up at Dez. “What happened?”

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