by Lisa Oliver
“Twenty plus years ago, twenty five, twenty six maybe, there was a kid born, shunned by the pack for having something wrong with him. What happened to him?”
“Twenty plus years ago? You still haven’t learned to be specific I see. But as it happens, I do remember the incident you’re talking about now you mention it.” Rex heard the creak of his father’s office chair and pictured him leaning back and resting his feet on the desk much like Rex had done. “Gods, I haven’t thought about that in years. It was young Mortimer’s whelp, if I recall. Shocking state of affairs. Mortimer would have been better off keeping his pants zipped on that occasion. Those two were far too young to be breeding which was proven when the kid came out with half-formed twisted legs. What do you mean, what happened to him? The kid was left in the forest. Middle of winter, he was only a few days old. You work it out. He wouldn’t have lasted the night.”
Rex got a sick feeling in his gut as his father’s cruel chuckle came over the line. “Bovis said he scented a bear in the area where the defect was left. If he didn’t turn into a popsicle, the bear would’ve eaten him by the next morning.”
“Bears hibernate in winter,” Rex whispered, his mind overtaken with the horror his father described. He remembered the forests of his home pack – beautiful, lush and green in summer, filled with game of all descriptions. But in the winter, it was a bleak place. Hearing his father recount an episode he only remembered fragments of made the horror of it more real somehow.
“This one wasn’t sleeping from the tracks left around where the whelp was left, still it makes no never mind. What the hell are you asking about that for? It was a lifetime ago. You’d only just gone through your first shift at the time, if I recall. I’m surprised you even remember it.”
“Why? Why did you order that kid’s death?” Rex thought about the omega’s shop, the way he proudly claimed the work of that magnificent bed as his. The omega wasn’t just cute, shy and sexy, he had talent – serious talent that would benefit any pack he’d been a part of.
His father’s harsh voice pulled him out of his musings. “Didn’t you hear me the first time? The kid was a defect, he didn’t come out right. He had no feet at all, and one of his legs was twisted so his knee was facing to the side – it wasn’t even a whole leg. The shaman said he’d never walk, which meant he’d never be able to hunt, or protect the pack. What’s worse, he had the scent of an omega about him, and we all know what deviancy male omegas get up to. I did what any sane alpha would’ve done at the time – culled the weak and useless, a decision I’m sure you’ll have to make for yourself if you ever get your head out of your ass and come back and lead this pack.”
“What happened to the Mortimers?” Rex didn’t bother trying to tell his father culling had been outlawed decades before, or that he was never going to lead his home pack. His father always believed he was the law and as it was, Rex could barely breathe. All he could see in his mind’s eye was a defenseless new born left in the wilds of the forest alone.
“The girl went all hysterical,” Rex’s father’s tone was dismissive. “Ranted and raved about murder and other such shit. She wanted to go after the child, so I had Bovis put her in lock up for a week to shut her up. The sensible thing would’ve been for her and Mortimer to just get on and have another baby, but she wouldn’t go near him when she was let out and eventually played chicken with a truck out on Highway 24. She was barely cold in her grave when Mortimer took to drink in a big way. I was happy to sign his transfer papers when he offered them. Stupid fool was up with a pack in Alaska somewhere, last I heard. You still haven’t said why all this is so important to you. You were there. You heard the judgement the same as everyone else. As Alpha, I did what I had to do for the good of the pack.”
Actually, Rex remembered very little about that night. With the rush of new shifting hormones running through his veins, Rex learned that most single males in the pack would bend over for the alpha’s son if he winked in their direction. Flush and cocky once his alpha wolf status had been confirmed, Rex had spent the night learning the joys of anal sex and getting his cock sucked.
Not that he’d ever mentioned that to his father of course. When it was clear he never got a hard on for any woman in the pack, Rex realized he would have to leave. Hell bound and determined not to live his life in the closet, Rex packed up his stuff just shy of his eighteenth birthday and hadn’t looked back.
“It’s not important. I’ve got to go,” Rex said, realizing his father was still waiting to find out why he’d asked about the kid in the first place. “Just before I do – was the Mortimer’s baby the only one you culled from the pack, or were there others?”
“The only one in your lifetime from memory, but I still don’t see why it’s important or why you’re hassling me about it now. You’re an alpha, boy. Alphas do what they must do to keep their pack strong and thriving. Defects undermine the integrity and strength of the pack and a male omega would’ve caused all manner of deviant temptations for the stronger males. Fuck it all, I did that tyke a favor. Could you imagine how much bullying he’d have suffered if I’d let him live? It’s not as though the whelp could run away or protect himself.”
Rex disconnected without answering, sick to his stomach thinking about the poor boy left to fend in the woods by himself at only three days old. The stupid thing was, his father was right in one respect. If the cute omega had been brought up in his father’s pack, his life would have been a living hell and he’d have been lucky to get through to his first shift.
Every wolf his father surrounded himself with prided themselves on their strength in a fight and their ability to father children. Same sex liaisons were conducted in the dark, away from the pack and the prying eyes of Rex’s father’s enforcers. Rex could well imagine Bovis, his father’s second, taking charge of the helpless child, leaving it in the woods to let “nature” take its course. Bovis’s twisted and sadistic nature meant he probably got off on the baby’s pitiful cries. Rex had always steered clear of the man, even before he knew what the bastard was capable of.
But now Rex had a bigger problem. He was damn sure his potential mate and the Mortimer’s son were one and the same person. The ages appeared to match and despite what Rex’s father said, cullings were extremely rare in any modern wolf pack. The chances of there being another young pup born with twisted legs, something else which was almost unheard of, were minimal. And the presence of the bear protecting him was too much of a coincidence to ignore.
Which meant Rex was about to go wading through a pile of shit. How in hell’s name can I claim my mate without telling him who I am? Because if there was one thing Rex was sure of, he was going to find a way to claim his mate. Paranormals only got one special person meant for them, and chair or no chair, Rex was not going to walk around the rest of his life alone. His pack might not have protected that little omega, but he would, even if he had to stand up to his father, brother, and fucking Bovis to do it.
A sharp knock at the door brought him out of his musings. His brother was back. Checking the time, Rex was surprised to see it was almost closing time.
“Fancy pants hasn’t moved off his stool at the bar. He’s drunk off his face, and when I offered to call him a cab, he threw up on my shoes. You can deal with him seeing as it’s your fault he’s in here, and you can clean up the mess he made as well.” Tony wrinkled his nose for emphasis. “Just be thankful most of our patrons left for the night or the situation could’ve been a lot worse. Fancy pants has been buying rounds for everyone for the past two hours – telling anyone who’d listen he’s celebrating because you’d agreed to marry him.”
“Oh, for fucks sake. You should’ve just gagged him or thrown him out.” But Rex got out of his chair and followed his brother into the main bar. He might not have a plan on how to win his omega yet, but throwing drunks out of his bar was a regular occurrence. And Sloane would be going home in a damn cab, because he’d pulled the ‘too drunk to drive’ trick twice before. Th
ere was no way in hell Rex was ever getting in his bed again. Not when I have a mate to woo.
Chapter Four
The scents of home never failed to relax the tensions from Devyn’s neck and shoulders. He’d stayed late, long after the shop had closed and Gregor had gone home, losing himself in his work, rather than face his troubled thoughts. How unsuccessful he was, was evidenced by the shaggy wolf features that appeared on the face of the merman he was carving. Fortunately, none of the cuts were that deep, but Devyn still frantically sanded it until nothing but a smooth surface remained.
“Gregor would’ve given me hell about that in the morning,” he muttered, pulling on the brake of his specially modified truck. Turning off the engine, he took a moment to appreciate the silence. His custom-built house was only twenty minutes’ drive from town, yet, in the dead of night, with no light except the one on his porch shining, Devyn could imagine himself in the middle of nowhere.
Which meant if he was going to fill his growling belly, he was going to have to cook for himself. Reaching behind him, Devyn was grateful he’d inherited some elements of shifter strength. His chair was relatively lightweight, but awkward to lift. Heaving it over the seat back one handed, Devyn opened his door with the other, leaning back so he could pull the chair past him, before leaning out of the wagon and lowering it onto its wheels on the concrete pad Gregor insisted on when the house was built.
Using the ‘oh shit’ bar for leverage, Devyn swung himself down into the chair, always tensing at the last minute. There’d been a few unfortunate accidents when he’d forgotten to engage the brakes on his chair. But the chair stayed put this time, and making sure he had his wallet and keys, Devyn locked up the truck and wheeled himself up the gently sloping ramp to his front door. If he sighed as the front door closed behind him, there was no one to hear it but him.
Twenty minutes later Devyn was stretched out on his couch, his belly full, his heart heavy as he gently massaged the tops of his legs through the sweat pants he’d changed into for comfort. When Gregor helped him design his own living space everything had been tailored for his less than average height, and the fact he spent most of his time in a wheelchair. Lowered light switches, shorter counter tops and hot plates, even the couch had sturdy arms and was wide enough to slouch in for comfort but offering enough support to make getting out of it easier for him. But Devyn couldn’t bring himself to be grateful in that moment. His heart still hurt, and ignoring his aching legs, he rubbed his chest, the alpha’s face filling his mind.
Through his whole life, Devyn had only met two other shifters apart from Gregor and that was before he’d shifted for the first time. He hadn’t been able to scent what they were. All he knew was Gregor was smirking one minute as Devyn was trying to decide between a dark red and a light gray shirt in the local department store, and the next he was a snarling angry mess as two men approached them.
The conversation was heated, too low for Devyn to hear, and he couldn’t see much as Gregor planted himself in front of his chair. Devyn never did get to buy his shirt from that store, although another two just like it showed up in the post a week later. When Devyn tried to ask his guardian what the men wanted, Gregor muttered something about specism and refused to elaborate any further. By the time his first shift happened a month later, Devyn had forgotten all about them.
I’m not likely to forget the one I met today in a hurry. Picking up the television remote, Devyn scrolled through the channels, staring at but not registering what was on the screen. Gregor’s brief lesson on mates, mating, and what it involved had been short to the point of cliff notes, but the man had an extensive library including a few books written by shifters for shifters. Devyn had been enthralled with the entries relating to alpha and omega wolves, devouring every word as he imagined a strong, kindly mate of his own.
Unfortunately, those day dreams were before he shifted and realized his legs weren’t going to miraculously fix themselves. Accepting the fact, he could no more walk properly on four legs as he could with two was a harsh reality he had to face. After that, dreams of an alpha mate were relegated to the small hours of the morning on the odd occasion when Devyn’s hormones would not be ignored.
It’s for the best that Gregor sent him away. Devyn swiped at his face, realizing his cheeks were wet. Gregor never shied from telling the truth of how they met and why he’d taken in a stranger’s baby. Devyn knew the reasons he’d been rejected, but rather than let him dwell on it, Gregor celebrated his every achievement – the high grades he got through his online classes, the first time he successfully carved a new headboard for his bed. The pictures Gregor used to keep on his fridge, Devyn’s younger scribbling, made way for photos of Devyn’s carvings. Never once had Gregor let him feel inadequate, and when he presented Devyn with the keys to his shop, along with a lease in his name and the phone number of a local accountant, Devyn was ready to face the world as a confident and productive member of society.
Well, human society. Because, no matter how successful he got, Devyn never forgot that in shifter terms he was a defect – someone who should’ve died at birth. So why did the all-knowing Fates give me an alpha who’ll never accept me? Devyn cried out silently. It was so unfair, fuck. Sometimes, his life seemed to be one unfair thing after another. His legs aching, his heart hurting, Devyn cried himself into a troubled sleep.
/~/~/~/~/
It’s still dark. Devyn’s eyes flew open, alerted by his wolf. The television was still on, as were all the lights, but the view outside his windows was shrouded in night. He listened, tense, straining to hear what upset his normally passive wolf.
A cricket, the wind rustling through the leaves, and then he heard it – a low growl, a thump, and then a whimper. Someone’s trying to get into the house. Devyn fumbled in his pocket for his phone and then cursed. He’d left that on the kitchen counter while he’d been making something to eat.
Should I or…. Devyn dragged his chair closer and swung into it. He didn’t have a fighting bone in his body, but the chair could be a useful weapon against someone’s legs. Fueled by the pain of his perceived rejection, Devyn was not going to lie like a log while someone else took something from him.
Yes, his life had started as a shit storm, but somewhere in his troubled dreams Devyn remembered the lessons Gregor taught him, about how he had value, and how successful he was. If any bastard thought they could break in and steal from him or worse, believing him weak because of the state of his legs, they were going to be in for a huge shock.
Weapon, weapon, I need some sort of…. Devyn looked around, spotting the standard lamp that stood in the corner of the room. Made of metal, with two lamps on it that could be angled in any direction, it was sturdy, and that’s all Devyn needed. Glad his wheels were silent on the wooden floors, Devyn rolled across the room, and pulled the plug out of the socket. Resting the lamp across his knees, he eased his way through the kitchen to the back door, before tilting his head, listening hard.
Is that panting I hear? Devyn’s mind immediately flew to the alpha wolf he’d met earlier, but then he shook his head at his own foolishness. The alpha was probably snug up in bed somewhere, with someone like Sloane moaning his name as he…. Focus. It’s more likely to be a stray dog.
Keeping one hand on the lamp, and his chair angled sideways Devyn reached over and unlocked the door – the huge slab of wood flying open as the weight leaning on it stumbled into the room. Fuck. Not a dog. Devyn backed up quickly even as the overpowering scent of pine, citrus and alpha wolf flooded his nostrils. “Don’t you dare come near me,” Devyn warned, holding the lamp in what he hoped was a threatening stance. “You’ve got no business being here, whoever you are.”
Devyn expected growling, even a few predatory steps towards him from his intruder. The last thing he expected was for the handsome wolf to look so forlorn, sitting back on his haunches, his ears drooping. Devyn almost felt sorry for him, except the wolf had been trying to get in his door.
“Ho
w did you find me? What are you doing here? Are you lost?” Devyn mentally cursed his foolishness – as if a hefty sized wolf shifter would ever get lost. And his intruder was a shifter – that much was evident from the huge size of the animal, not to mention the keen intelligence in his brilliant green eyes. The growing problem in Devyn’s sweatpants was another clue. He wasn’t the type to get a hard on in a crisis, and he certainly wouldn’t get one for a natural wolf.
Devyn’s arms were trembling, holding the lamp over his head. With the wolf watching him intently, he slowly lowered them, keeping a close eye out for any sudden moves. Setting the lamp to one side, Devyn rested his hands on the arms of his chair.
“Well, this is interesting,” he said, taking in the beautiful animal in front of him. Despite the wolf’s size and apparent good health, Devyn didn’t have it in him to be scared for some reason. It might have something to do with the way the wolf’s tongue hung out of the side of what seemed to be a smiling mouth. “Do you often go and lean on random people’s doors in the middle of the night for no reason, or am I just special?”
The wolf’s sudden woof made Devyn jump, but the animal was wagging his tail. If Devyn didn’t know better, he’d say he was being laughed at. “I’m going to take that to mean I’m special,” he grumbled, spinning his chair on one wheel. He’d get the wolf a bowl of water, and then the animal could trot back out the same way he came in. Devyn had a pressing problem in his groin he didn’t need an audience for when he took care of it, and Gregor would be expecting him back at the shop within a few hours.
“You can have water and then you can go,” he said firmly as he rolled over to the cupboard that held his bowls. “Some of us have work in the morning.”
