Page 8 of Black Moon

Coming down the front steps of the town hall was a big, tall guy—an alpha with blond hair shaved close at the sides and long on top so it flopped one way, then after he ran his hand through it, turned over to the other. He had sparkling brown eyes and teeth so white it couldn’t be natural.

“The very same,” I said, throwing out my hand as he got close. “Skip Chadwick?”

He gave a little nod, not the slightest bit of pouch under his chin when he did. Instead, he was all sharp lines and bulging muscles—the consummate alpha if I’d ever seen one. My Dad would’ve loved him.

He took up my hand, squeezing it, but didn’t shake. No, he shifted one leg back so he couldbow.

That wasn’t his intention—no, he seemed to want to press his warm, dry lips to my knuckles. Still, it was so bizarre when I was all the sudden looking down at the back of this guy’s head.

Before I went blushing or yanking my hand out of a perfectly polite alpha’s hand, I needed to remind myself things were different out here. This could just be a respectful gesture—no need to overreact.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said when he straightened, his eyes twinkling. And, okay, there was no mistaking the low purr of his voice for anything other than interest. A wave of his scent, musky and carrying some kind of body spray, hit me all at once, and it took effort—you can’t imagine how much—not to groan on the spot.

I parted my lips, just enough to breathe through them and escape the intensity of his scent. “The pleasure’s all mine, really.”

As gracefully as I could, I slipped my hand out of Skip’s with the excuse of pulling my bag over my shoulder.

He was still grinning at me. Before he got the wrong idea, it was time to get down to business.

“So, I was thinking you could show me around town, to start. Introduce me to some of the locals. I don’t have any intention of discovering all your secrets in a day—”

“I should hope not,” he broke in with a laugh.

My smile tightened. “But I’d like to get the lay of the land if you’ve got time to escort me.”

He blinked quickly, like it was some kind of personal compliment that I wanted to spend time with him. Truth was, with such a reclusive pack, I thought I’d have more luck with someone familiar to them at my side.

“I would love to spend the day with you, Colt. Can I carry your bag?”

He held out a hand, but I shook my head. “I like to have all the tools of the trade with me.”

Again, he laughed, his mouth opening a little too wide, a flash of white fang shining clearly. “Can’t risk missing out on a scoop?”

“Precisely that. So”—I twisted around, to one side then the other, looking at the town square—“where should we start?”

* * *

Skip took me around to all the nearby businesses. The first shocker was Ambrosia Grocery, which was run by a middle-aged omega man with lines around his eyes. He made sure I left with one of the local apples.

In fact, every omega I saw in the place seemed confident walking down the street, alone or in the company of alphas and betas. Skip’s domineering presence had given me pause, but maybe this pack was different than I’d assumed.

Pretty much all the tools in the hardware store were well beyond my understanding, and the alpha there seemed a little strained to have us loitering around and trying to chat. There was a pink-eyed beta guy in the back who looked away when we came in. The alpha who ran the place, Cliff, seemed to want to get back to him. The beta looked utterly heartbroken, but that was none of my business.

Though, of course, when Skip led me back onto the sidewalk, he was sure to apologize—everyone was a bit out of shape. The pack alpha had died recently, and that beta? He was the man’s son.

Shit, that sucked. Half the time, I hated my dad, but I’d feel lost if he died.

For a second, I thought about going back in and offering my condolences, but the owner of Reynolds Hardware and the young Grove man seemed to know each other, and sympathy wasn’t worth much coming from a complete stranger.

Moreover, I didn’t get the impression Skip was all that concerned about it. After all, a pack alpha’s death left a lot of opportunity for other alphas to move up the ladder.

He stopped me with a hand on my stomach and nodded to a white wooden building across the street, a painted sign hanging out front that said “Honeysuckle Inn.” I rocked a step back, and he dropped his hand.

“There’s the B and B,” he said. “You have somewhere to stay yet? I could get you a room.”

He was an alpha, and I was an omega in a strange land. If he was looking out for me, it was a nice gesture. It was expected, even. I just didn’t like the idea of anyone—alpha, beta, omega, or human—thinking I couldn’t take care of myself.

Still, Chase’s exasperated voice played in my head—“Good alphas don’t deserve to suffer for your bad attitude, Colt”—so I forced another smile. My cheeks were beginning to ache.

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