Page 17 of Wolf Found

“But an omega, they claimed to have cast out.”

“Oh, that’s gross,” Gavin muttered.

Ash turned to look at him. “That’s what I think it is, right? Me, the alpha, gets to be a bad guy, make his decisions, for good or bad. Hannah, the omega, gets cast out. Even though she made a decision even more than I did, when they told the pack, they took it away like she hadn’t.”

Gavin nodded, and slid his arm fully around Graham’s shoulders, almost like a hug. “You’ve got a good instinct, Graham. They were manipulating you. They didn’t want you to think about an omega making her own decision, much less a decision that involved walking away from them.”

Graham had never been hugged by an alpha. Any alpha. Did this count?

“Graham?” Gavin asked. He looked down at his arm and startled, as though he hadn’t expected to see it where it was. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’ve gotten weirdly touchy since, you know, wolfy instincts. Just tell me hands off, and I’ll—”

He didn’t know why, or why he thought Gavin wouldn’t mind, but some long-hidden instinct leapt out of Graham. He pushed himself into Gavin, hugging him full-on. It wasn’t remotely sexual, but it was—it was nice. Gavin was huge and warm and strong, and every one of Graham’s instincts felt safe and well cared for in his presence. Gavin laid a palm on the back of his neck, and all the tension in his body released.

He wanted to cry. The alpha approved of him.

“I did that to Ash last night,” Hannah said somewhere nearby.

The wolf instincts raised by all this touching wanted Graham to be annoyed with her. Ash washisalpha. But Gavin was also his alpha. Just, in a different way, maybe. He didn’t know how he’d bonded to Gavin so immediately. The Martingale alpha had been his alpha for twenty years, and he’d never been this attached to him. One day and a hug, and he was putty in Gavin’s hands.

Hannah sounded so relieved about crying on Ash it was impossible to be angry with her anyway, especially when she added, “I’d forgotten what it was like to be around wolves. I like humans, but they don’t touch very much. It was hard.”

Was that Graham’s problem? Not many people ever touched him. He was just the kitchen omega. No one wanted anything from him but food.

Which reminded him. He drew back and looked at Gavin. “Can we get food for me?”

Gavin’s eyes went round in shock. “You’re hungry already?”

“No, no, no.” Graham threw up his hands. “Not that. Groceries. I know Hannah’s got the baby to worry about, but if you’re letting me stay, I can help. I can cook.”

“Hallelujah,” Sawyer said from somewhere behind him.

Gavin bowed his head so that he could look Graham straight in the eye. “Do youwantto cook? Because your value doesn’t hinge on service. You came to us for asylum. We accepted that. You’re welcome here. You owe us nothing.”

The very idea was so foreign to Graham that he almost denied it. What good was a wolf who didn’t contribute to his pack? But the sincerity in Gavin’s eyes, in his voice, made Graham wonder if he needed to think about it more. If Gavin believed it so deeply, maybe it was true.

Maybe he could have value without service.

On the other hand, he liked to cook, and he wanted to help. “Is it okay if I think on that, alpha, and for now... for now, cook for the pack?”

Gavin smiled at him, looking pleased and sad at the same time. “Of course, Graham. I’m sure we would all appreciate it. We are pretty crappy in the kitchen.”

* * *

The kitchenin the Kismet pack’s house was about half the size of the one at the enclave, but for less than ten people instead of more than two hundred. Before Graham’s arrival, it had been for four of them.

It was almost obscene in its extravagance, but when he told Hannah that, she’d laughed at him. “You’re just saying that because you’re used to cooking twelve hours a day in that cramped mess at the enclave and still never quite getting everything done as well as you want.”

“Twelve hours?” Sawyer asked in horror. It was interesting, having the three of them, omegas all, together in the kitchen. They didn’t seem to have anything in common, for three people Graham had always been taught were practically interchangeable.

“Every single day,” Hannah agreed. “He usually had a few helpers around the dining hours, and other people washed up after him and served, but our Graham did all the cooking for the enclave.”

Hannah wasn’t cooking—not that Graham needed the help—because she was putting together a high chair that had been purchased that afternoon. Hannah always had been handy. Paige was sleeping in her newly built crib in the den, far enough for a little peace and quiet, but close enough that they would all hear if her breathing changed.

“I’d have burned something down,” Sawyer said, sighing as he sat at the bar across from the cooking area, drinking a glass of wine and, well... doing nothing. “Not on purpose, you understand. I can’t cook to save my life, literally. I can pull a decent shot of espresso, but that’s as close as I get.”

Graham was a little jealous of Sawyer sitting there watching. Not because he wanted to do nothing, but because he wanted to be able to do nothing without feeling restless, which Sawyer clearly wasn’t. He just sat and watched Graham cook as though it was interesting, but he didn’t mind sitting there.

“So you work at the coffee shop?” Hannah asked, snapping the last piece onto the chair and then sauntering over to join Sawyer at the bar, picking up her own glass, hers containing only juice.

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