Page 7 of Wolf Lost

That made it less important that they didn’t know what he was. Sawyer had been hearing all his life about how people “couldn’t help” the inappropriate way they acted toward him and other omegas. There were lectures about wearing proper clothes and not going out at night, as though he were the one responsible for the actions of others.

Here this pack had taken an unconscious, vulnerable omega and tucked him in for a nap without trying anything untoward or manipulative. Obviously it was possible, so why didn’t everyone act that way?

He pulled his socks back on, though he’d have preferred a change of clothes, and slid his feet into his well-worn sneakers before heading out of the bedroom with just one longing, backward glance.

The rest of the house was as impossible as the bedroom. Those shiny dark lacquered floors were throughout, scattered with a few expensive looking rugs here and there. The walls were all bright white, covered with huge windows that looked out onto nothing but trees. There was a circular staircase in the center of the house that went both up and down, right through the middle of an enormous kitchen.

A kitchen where one of the alphas from before was standing at an island pouring a glass of orange juice. He was almost as big as Desmond, but he had the look of a clean-cut, all-American boy. Probably played football and dated cheerleaders in high school.

He looked up at Sawyer and smiled, his face open and kind, and Sawyer wanted to cry. His own pack had been first miserable and then angry with him since his father’s death, and it had been forever since anyone had so openly and genuinely smiled at him.

“Hey, want some juice? There’s soda out there with the pizza”—he increased his volume and injected fake disgust into his voice—“but not all of us want to fill our bodies with chemicals and sugar.”

“Shut it, farm boy,” the third voice called in response.

The other alpha from before, Sawyer realized. There had been no impending fight. They were together of their own free will, and they were... happy? Teasing?

His father and Mark had barely been able to be in the same room with each other without glaring and posturing. He’d always understood that to be how alphas acted. They didn’t like each other and there was rarely more than one in a pack, because they were rare, and they didn’t work well together.

The guy in the kitchen—Ash?—gave Sawyer a self-deprecating smile and sighed. “No offense, but this kinda sucks. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to explain all this designation stuff for a while yet.”

“Explain?” Sawyer asked, confused. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, alpha.”

The guy gave a snort at that. “Please. It’s Ash. Asher if you must, but even that’s a little formal. We’re not like that around here. And I don’t have to explain it to you—I have to explain it to them. So, juice or soda?”

“I—” Sawyer broke off, looked at the juice, and then turned to the room the alpha—Ash—had motioned toward. Normally it would be a no-brainer; he loved soda. In this case, the empty calories were a bad choice. “Juice, please.”

Ash nodded and grabbed another glass from a cupboard, filling it all the way to the top before sliding it across the counter to Sawyer. He motioned to the fridge. “I’m gonna put it away, but you can get more if you want. There’s practically nothing in there, but you’re always free to eat anything that is.”

Always? Was he being invited to stay?

After putting the juice in the fridge, which was indeed bare, Ash headed for the room he’d pointed out. The room he could smell pizza in. Supreme, Hawaiian, and something with... fish? Anchovies? That didn’t sound appealing. He hoped Desmond wasn’t eating fish pizza. That would make it much harder to kiss him later.

Not that Sawyer was planning to do that.

But no, the anchovy pizza was in the hands of the third alpha, yet another handsome man, this one with light brown hair in a military cut, and striking green eyes. He was in the process of putting a piece on a plate when Sawyer walked in.

The room was a den. None of the rooms in the house were particularly cut off; the whole floor plan was open and airy, enormous walkways instead of small doorways. But unlike the rest, this room felt like something intended for wolves.

The walls were painted a deep burgundy instead of white, and it was dominated by a huge black U-shaped sofa. The thing had enough room for a big group, without inconvenient arms and spaces between chairs to keep people from leaning on each other. There was a fireplace that didn’t smell like burning wood, but had a fire dancing in it, and the whole room was as blissfully warm as the bedroom had been.

Sawyer couldn’t keep himself from falling into a seat close to the fire, holding his hands toward it to feel the extra warmth. “Why is it so cold here?”

Desmond chuckled. “Because it’s Colorado?”

“It’s May!”

“In Colorado,” Desmond agreed. “You said you’re from Southern California?” He unzipped the fleece jacket he had on over a very tight black T-shirt and tossed it to Sawyer.

From what he’d gleaned, there was no way Desmond understood what a gesture like that meant, so Sawyer decided to take advantage instead of reading into it. He slipped the still-warm fleece around himself and took a deep breath of the alpha’s rich, comforting scent. Ash gave him a look that said he knew what was going on in Sawyer’s mind even if the others didn’t, but he didn’t say anything.

Sawyer looked away and decided that the best way to handle it was shameless avoidance. “We’re not that far north, are we?”

“No,” the anchovy pizza guy answered. “We’re in the middle of the Rocky Mountains.”

Ash smiled and shook his head at everyone. He leaned over and grabbed two plates, then offered one to Sawyer. “You get used to the cold. It’s not that bad.” He waved at the three huge pizzas laid across a low coffee table. “Grab whatever you want. I’m sure it’s obvious, but we’re not exactly a traditional pack.”

Sawyer looked at all three of them in turn, and not a single one seemed interested in meeting his eyes in challenge. Ash looked at him for a second, then smiled and turned to look into the nearest pizza box. The others were more interested in the pizza than establishing any kind of pecking order.

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