Page 17 of The Feral Alpha

He set down the untouched box of chicken and prowled out of his den. This was his territory. He wasn’t about to let anyone attack him again.

Rex stalked through the trees with his ears pricked.

Another twig snapped.

He dropped to all fours and ran, covering ground more easily than if he’d been on two legs. Before long, a figure came into view.

His heart slipped.

He would’ve recognized that too-thin figure anywhere. That shock of blond hair, those gray eyes. Olson always looked so beautiful, kind of like a pixie, with large eyes and full lips, his jaw sharp. Rex especially loved his capable hands, his narrow chest, the way he moved with such grace.

“Rex?” Olson asked.

He was standing behind some trees, his arms wrapped around a bundle. But his face—he looked so uncertain.

It was Rex’s fault. He’d made Olson angry.

Rex slowed down some paces away, his heart pounding. He breathed in the faint traces of orchid in the air.

How did you make your omega want you again?

Slowly, he prowled closer.

Olson didn’t back away this time. He stared at Rex and moved his mouth, but no sound came out.

“Mine,” Rex blurted, his heart sore.

At that, something on Olson’s face changed. He sighed. “Look, why don’t you show me where your den is, and we’ll sit down and talk. Or try to.”

Olson wanted to visit his den.

Hope swelled through Rex’s chest; he straightened to his full height and bounded over, careful not to crash into his omega.

Olson didn’t flinch. He stood tall, unafraid, and Rex wanted him to know how happy this made him. But the words were slippery on his tongue; he couldn’t string them together.

He settled for what he could do: he swept Olson over his shoulder like he’d done a few days ago.

Olson yelped. “Wait! I almost dropped my things.”

Rex turned. Olson still had his bundle in his arms; nothing had fallen onto the ground. So Rex took his omega back to his den, bringing him inside and carefully setting him on his nest, making sure he was comfortable.

“Olsonnnn,” he rumbled, leaning in and burying his face in Olson’s neck. His instincts roared when he saw the scab of his bonding mark. “Mine.”

Olson stiffened. “Don’t bite me again.”

But he wasn’t pushing Rex away.

A happy sound rumbled through Rex. He nudged Olson backward, flat against the blankets, and nudged his bundle of things away. Then he covered Olson with his body.

This felt right.

“Mine,” he growled, rubbing his face harder against Olson’s neck so Olson’s orchid scent got all over him. “Mine, mine, mine.”

He buried his nose against that one spot and just breathed. Just held Olson in his arms.

It felt like he’d come home.

Olson sighed, the tension in his body melting away.