Page 6 of The Alpha Experiment
Colin included.
“Thanks,” I said, my throat a little tight. Jesus, but it was a relief to have him here. “You look like the frat guys in the back of my classes who try to vape weed when I’m not paying attention.”
Except for the machete strapped to his back, which I noticed as I turned around after shutting the door.
The twelve-pack of Bear’s Head IPA in his hand pushed him back into frat-boy territory, though. Maybe a college student wouldn’t have been able to afford a microbrew, but still. Cans of beer.
I looked him up and down. “Seriously? Beer and a machete?”
Colin threw his head back and laughed. “Is there an emergency that can’t be handled with beer and/or a machete?”
Fair point. “Let’s start with the beer.” All of a sudden, I needed one like I needed oxygen.
Colin took the twelve-pack over to what passed for a kitchen in my apartment, a few square feet of linoleum at the end of the living room with a fridge, stove, and sink and a narrow island separating it from the rest of the room. He started pulling off cans and stashing them in the fridge with the ease of someone who felt completely at home in any space I lived in, whether or not he’d spent much time there.
“So,” Colin threw over his shoulder. “What is the emergency? And am I going to need the machete, or just the beer? Girl trouble or real trouble?”
His tone stayed light, but I heard the undercurrent of legitimate concern.
“Real trouble.” My tone was the verbal equivalent of dropping a brick on your toe.
Colin frowned and shut the fridge, coming back with two cans. He handed me one, unslung his machete with a familiar grace that might’ve been a little unnerving for someone who didn’t have his own machete stashed in the closet, and dropped onto the couch. From deep inside it, something cracked, and a spring twanged.
I popped my can and took a long, long swig. All the tension had come rushing back now that I had to tell Colin what was going on. Telling him would make it real.
I grabbed my shoulder bag on the way to the couch, setting it by my feet while I slumped down next to Colin, the couch giving another groan of protest. I polished off my beer and dropped the can on the coffee table. Without a word, Colin hopped up again and headed for the fridge, finishing his own on the way and coming back with two more.
“Okay, dude. What’s going on? You said you needed my help. Youneverask for help.”
“I said I needed youradvice. Something wrong with your pointy alpha ears?”
Colin raised an eyebrow at me. “You corrected yourself halfway through asking for help, there’s nothing wrong with my ears. And don’t be an asshole.”
I opened my second beer and took a sip, unable to answer. I could feel my neck and cheeks and ears burning with a blush of shame. He’d dropped everything to rush up here at a moment’s notice.
“Sorry.” It came out sounding small and pathetic.
Colin shifted over, bumping my shoulder with his. “No worries.” And he meant it. Just like that, he’d already forgiven and forgotten. Colin rarely got angry and he didn’t hold grudges, and I was damn lucky to have him. “What’s up, Newt? Come on, don’t do that thing where you won’t talk about stuff because you don’t want to hear it out loud.”
Damn, damn, dammit. Okay, sometimes I hated having someone know me that well.
“There’s two things,” I admitted. “I’m not totally sure if they’re related or not. One’s a lot worse than the other.” I set my beer down on the table and reached down for the envelope, lifting the flap and handing it to Colin, and then resettling on the couch so I could face him while he opened it. “I got this in my department mailbox today.”
Colin put down his own beer and extracted the pile of photos, his expression one of wary curiosity. He didn’t even have to say a word for me to know when the penny dropped. His face hardened, his dark eyes going flinty. Colin flipped through the stack, looking at them one by one. Examining them, as if he saw more than just the images they’d captured.
The hair on the back of my neck rose as I watched him, a weird, not completely pleasant frisson going down my spine. Colin was easygoing almost to a fault, calm and chill and more laid-back than a reclining lounge chair.
But he was also an alpha, and now a pack leader.
And sometimes, I forgot that he was the kind of guy who knew how to use the machete he’d so casually toted along with the twelve-pack.
And that he was the kind of guy whowoulduse it. And his claws, and his teeth, and anything else at hand, if violence was the only answer to a problem.
“Newt,” he said at last. The deep, gravelly timbre of his voice sent another shiver through me. “This is…whothe fucksent these?”
I swallowed hard. I really, truly hated saying it out loud. For a logical scientist, I sure could be superstitious, and I hated that about myself. “I don’t know. For sure, anyway. I have one theory, but it seems far-fetched. In a sane world, it shouldn’t be possible.”
Colin carefully put the photos back in the envelope and laid it down on the coffee table, his movements measured and precise—like he had to control himself, or he’d explode. The energy coming off of him felt like walking into a brewing thunderstorm.
