Page 23

“Why?” I gesture to the silver motorcycle pendant at his throat, and something in his expression tightens. “Are you from a gang?”

He straightens so fast that my hand drops.

“No.” The word is flat and cold.

It shocks me.

The Alpha’s hand closes around the pendant, swallowing the miniature motorcycle inside his fist.

Something dark passes over his face before he appears to catch it.

“Not anymore.” His smile is brittle. “And I have two Alphas. One of them was meant to be here but he got held over. I’m blaming the big possum who wedged himself in the doggy door. I don’t want that to be the first story I tell the traumatized Heat Wave Omega, you know? I swore to my pack that I’d be good at this shit.”

“Possum?” I reply faintly.

He nods, grinning. “I couldn’t coax my other solitary Alpha back from communing with nature in Butterfly Creek.”

Strange pack.

At the mention of Butterfly Creek, however, my chin snaps up, and my shoulders straighten. “Wait, you live in Oak Hollow.”

“I do now. For my sins.”

“I don’t recognize you.”

He quirks his brow. “You live there too, beautiful?”

I nod.

“Small world, huh? I didn’t grow up in Oak Hollow.” The Alpha’s expression becomes more serious. “I only moved there a year ago.”

“Do you like it?”

His grin returns, even brighter than before. “I love it. It’s home.”

And that hits fucking hard.

“Here.” He sidles closer to me, pulling something out of his pocket. “I was saving this for my journey home. But you look like you need it more than I do.”

I stare at the large chocolate bar that he’s holding out to me.

“My grandma taught me to never take chocolate from strange Alphas,” I reply.

“Hey, I’m not that strange, right?” He waggles the bar at me.

“Says the Alpha who talks about possums and communing with forest spirits.” I snatch the chocolate bar.

“Slander. That’s the other Alphas in my pack.”

I struggle to break the candy in half and toss him back a portion of it. “For the journey home. Omegas and Alphas should share equally.”

He catches it, staring at me in surprise. “Thanks.”

“Ms. Berry…?” A staff member’s voice calls across the lounge.

I wince.

“Monarch,” I mutter. “It’s Monarch.”