Page 5 of The Feral Alpha

Dicks don’t change lives, Olson had said.

Dicks give lives, Emmy had answered. Maybe it’ll give yours back.

Nah, Olson didn’t believe in the supernatural.

“Boss, that alpha’s back,” Derek said quietly when most of the lunch crowd had dispersed from the Wine Shack.

Olson frowned at his bouncer. “Didn’t you say he disappeared?”

“Yeah, he’s back. Still not saying more than a word or two.”

There had been complaints from the bar patrons about a hulking alpha lurking around the premises. Olson had never actually come face-to-face with him in his patrols; he’d only glimpsed the alpha from a distance.

Then the man had disappeared for a few months, and Olson had forgotten about him.

“He wants to see you,” Derek said warily.

Olson blinked. “Me?”

“Well. All he said was, ‘Need Olson.’”

Olson glanced at the double-door entrance that Derek had locked behind him; the alpha was on the other side of them.

In the day, he was a large shape with tangled hair and ragged clothes, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Olson.

Olson drew a deep breath, his instincts stirring. Alarm? “I guess we’ll see what he has to say.”

“Are you sure?”

Olson shrugged. “I have you with me, don’t I?”

Derek was an alpha, too, and he’d been working for Olson for a while. Olson trusted him to get a good read on situations before they got out of hand. Besides, Derek was strong.

“He’s a lot bigger than me,” Derek said.

“He hasn’t proven to be violent so far.” Olson left the bar, walking to the door with Derek.

The alpha’s behavior changed the closer they got. He began breathing harder, fogging up the door with his breath, his gaze raking over Olson from head to toe. Then he pressed his face and hands against the glass, licking his lips.

Olson swallowed.

“Boss,” Derek said in warning.

“Open the door.”

Derek unlocked the doors and pulled one open. The alpha prowled into the bar like a predator, his entire form hunched toward Olson.

There wasn’t much to be seen of his face. Matted dark hair covered most of it. He had a thick beard and hair that went down to his shoulders, leaves and twigs tangled up in it.

But his eyes...

They were a shade of moss-green Olson had thought he’d never see again.

His stomach dropped. It’s just a coincidence.

He made himself look away from those eyes. The alpha was a full head taller than him, with plush lips and broad, muscled shoulders straining behind a ragged shirt. One of the sleeves had ripped around his girthy bicep. There was dirt on his pants—straining at the seams—and he smelled unwashed.

But beneath all that... was a very faint hint of maplewood.