Page 6 of Mating With My Grumpy Alphas
I didn't do personal updates. Didn't maintain contact with civilians beyond what the job required. But she'd asked like sheneeded to know this one injured creature would be okay. Like maybe if this owl could heal and find her way back to where she belonged, other broken things could too.
"I'll let you know," I heard myself saying. "Recovery updates, release date when it happens."
"Thank you." The gratitude in her voice was out of proportion to the promise I'd made.
Mrs. Patterson had wandered back to her house, giving us a privacy I hadn't asked for but found myself reluctant to end. The omega in front of me was asking about wildlife rehabilitation like it mattered personally, was looking at me like I might actually understand something important, despite the obvious stress that being this close to an unfamiliar alpha seemed to cause her.
"I should let you get back to work," she said, the stress finally showing in her voice. "Thank you for helping her."
"Willa," I called as she reached the tree line.
She turned back, surprise clear on her face that I'd remembered her name.
"The owl will fly again," I said. "Sometimes they just need the right support to remember how."
She didn’t say anything, just nodded one and then rushed away. I signed, frustrated in a way I didn’t want to acknowledge because it wasn’t from her hurrying away, it was that she hadn’t stayed.
Driving to the rehabilitation center, I found myself thinking about the way she'd asked her questions. Knowledgeable but careful, like someone trying to remember a language they'd once spoken fluently. Most people would have pulled out phones to take pictures or asked basic questions about what was wrong. She'd stayed back, hands deliberately empty, but known exactly enough to ask about rehabilitation and recovery time.
Dr. Anderson was expecting me when I arrived at the center. The owl's examination confirmed my field assessment. Clean wing fracture, some soft tissue damage, but nothing that wouldn't heal with time and proper care.
"Six to eight weeks," Dr. Anderson said, updating the bird's chart. "Assuming no complications. Clean break, good bone density. She's young and strong."
"Someone wanted updates on her progress," I said, filling out the transportation paperwork.
Dr. Anderson raised an eyebrow. "Someone?"
"Civilian who found her. New resident. Seemed... invested in the outcome."
"Personal interest or professional?"
"Personal," I said, then wondered why I was so certain.
He shrugged it off and made a note on the chart. It didn’t escape me that he didn’t ask for Willa’s details, nor did I offer them. I refused to examine why that was. Why I wanted to be the one to make those calls. Admitting it to myself was more than I was comfortable with right now.
The drive home took longer than usual because I deliberately chose the route that avoided Magnolia Crescent entirely. No professional reason to swing by that area again. The owl was safe, being treated by experts, well on her way to recovery. My job was done.
But back at my cabin, standing on the porch listening to the familiar evening sounds of the forest, I found myself thinking about jasmine and rain and the way she'd looked at that injured owl like she understood exactly what it felt like to be grounded.
The forest was quiet in the way I'd always preferred. No unexpected conversations causing complicated emotions, and most of all no scent signatures that made my alpha instincts twitch with unwanted protectiveness. Just trees and wildlife.The kind of peace that came from understanding your place in the ecosystem.
Yet tonight, the quiet felt different. Tonight, it felt empty in a way I'd never noticed before. Like something was missing that I hadn't known I was looking for.
I'd promised her updates about the owl's recovery. Professional courtesy, nothing more. The fact that I was already looking forward to that conversation, to seeing her face when I told her the bird would definitely fly again, had nothing to do with the omega herself and everything to do with... wildlife education. Community outreach.
Right.
I went inside and made a note in my calendar to check on the owl's progress in a week. Purely professional follow-up. The kind of thing any good conservation officer would do for a concerned citizen.
The fact that I was already planning what I'd say to her, how I'd frame the good news, was just thorough preparation. Nothing more.
Chapter 4
Elias
The scent came through the wall like a call for help.
I paused in my work, mortar and pestle balanced in my hands as I processed what my senses were telling me. Jasmine and rain, yes, but underneath it something sharp and strained. I was familiar with this particular kind of distress that happened when an omega's system was fighting itself. I'd learned to recognize it in my work. Suppressants failing, emotional walls cracking, the body's natural responses warring with the mind's determination to stay in control.
