Page 8 of Tempted By the Alpha Outlaw

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COLT

It ain’t much, but it’s got a roof.

The workshop’s a wreck—tools scattered, parts rusting, shelves sagging under the weight of forgotten junk. Dust coats everything. The place is more graveyard than workspace, but there’s potential. A purpose.

Finding the Gulf Pack’s missing princess.

I shake off the thought and wipe my hands on an already-filthy rag. If I squint, I can almost see this place cleaned up, humming with machinery that actually works. It’s the kind of project that could tether a man.

Not that I belong here.

The space has good bones, though, and my hands itch for a task. I kick a stray wrench out of the way and head toward the back, where a tiny office barely fits a desk and a sagging cot. The windows are caked with grime, letting in just enough light to make the place look worse.

“Home sweet home,” I mutter, dry.

I’ve stayed in worse. At least this place has four walls and a ceiling instead of open sky. I drop my bag by the cot, taking stock. A blanket, clean sheets, something to cover the windows. Maybe I’ll even fix the heater—if I’m still here when winter comes.

For now, there’s something more important.

The signal beacon’s been with me for years, tucked at the bottom of my pack. It’s nothing special—just a steel-cased box with battered dials and switches, salvaged from a wreck after I got loose from a Host prison. It’s janky, but it works.

And in my line of work, that’s all that matters.

I clear space on the desk and set it down, running my fingers over the worn labels. I know them by heart. Long-range frequencies, encrypted channels, a switch to kill the signal in an instant. My lifeline to the outside world—the kind of people who pay well and ask few questions.

But here, in a pack that doesn’t trust strangers, it’s the one thing I can’t afford to let anyone see.

I glance around. A small closet in the corner catches my eye. Perfect. I pry the door open and tuck the radio inside, stripping some wires from the busted generator in the workshop to rig a power source. It’s temperamental, prone to shorting, but it’ll do. I run cables along the baseboards, out of sight.

A faint hum fills the room as the radio flickers to life. Static crackles, followed by a soft, familiar beep—the sound of a secure line waiting.

I flip the switch off. The glow fades.

The sound of footsteps pulls me out of my thoughts. I straighten my ears catching the cadence of a light step—quick and confident, accompanied by the creak of wheels. Then I smell it: warm vanilla, wildflowers after rain, and clementines so sweet they might as well be ripe on the branch.

My stomach tightens. The scent grabs me by the gut and doesn’t let go. I haven’t felt this kind of pull in…hell, maybe ever.

Except in the dining room last night.

It's that girl…the omega. The one who kept her eyes on me all through dinner, devouring me with her gaze while I resisted the urge to do the same.

I stroll out of the office to find her looking around the workshop, wearing a white sundress with a yellow cardigan. She’s standing in the doorway, framed by the afternoon light. She looks like a goddamn angel, motes of dust floating around her like stars.

For a second, I forget how to speak.

She’s the kind of gorgeous that sneaks up on you and hits hard—big, dark eyes that hold too much emotion, a full mouth that seems made to curve into a smile. Her skin is a warm, sunlit brown, like the earth after rain, catching the light in a way that makes her seem like she’s glowing from within.

But it’s her hair that really gets me—dark, glossy waves that tumble over her shoulders, the kind of hair a man can’t help but imagine tangling his fingers in, even when he knows better.

She’s brightness and warmth in a world that’s forgotten how to hold either.

…and I know she’s got a kind of light I’ve got no business chasing.

“Hi,” she says, smiling at me. “Colt, right?”

Fuck, watching those lips curve around my name sends a jolt straight to my cock. I shift in the doorway to the office, trying desperately to play it cool.

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