Page 10 of The Coyote's Veterinarian Omega

Wyatt stilled, then turned around. He stared at me, and I stared right back. He pursed his lips. Then, without a word, he charged off again.

I flicked an ear and tilted my head. What was he up to now?

I heard feet on the stairs, along with his muffled yells. “Cam? Cam!”

Then came the sound of his footsteps back down the stairs. There was a long pause after that, before he finally re-emerged—holding my clothes.

Ah,fuck.

He stared at me. “Did you eat him?” he asked finally.

I rolled my eyes—a difficult feat in this form. It was hard to look sarcastic without eyebrows.

He looked down at my shirt. “I just don’t get it,” he murmured.

Thank God Cal walked in right then. I yipped to get his attention. “What’s up, Ca—oh, hey there, Wyatt.”

Wyatt looked up at my brother, blinking. “Uh, hey,” he said, almost shrinking into himself. His pale cheeks were dusted with pink suddenly.

God, he was so cute. I blinked at my own thoughts.Cute?I hadn’t used the wordcuteto describe someone since high school, which was getting perilously close to ten years ago now.

Well, other than little kids—I’d always had a soft spot for kids.

Wyatt would probably have cute kids.

And there went my train of thought, runaway down a mountain, descending into a valley of utter fantasy, where Wyatt was a shifter omega and we hooked up—no, scratch that, gotmarriedand had cute little pups ever after.

Oh, fuck, that was a bad train of thought.

Cal snapped his fingers, drawing my attention back to reality. “Got out?” Cal was asking.

Wyatt nodded, then seemed to realize he was still limply holding my discarded shirt. He tossed it away quickly. “Uh—I guess he came back though?” He turned to look at me, frowning. “Although I guess he jumped the gate.” He gritted his teeth. “And on that shoulder …”

And I was back to thinking he was cute, especially when he was concerned about a patient. Sure, he was a little more on the waifish side than what I usually went for, but I could work with it.

Cal rubbed his forehead. “I see.” He glanced at me. “Well, he’s back now. I’ll look at getting a higher gate or something. Forgot these buggers are pretty good jumpers.”

Wyatt drew a breath, then said, “That’s not the weird part.”

“Huh?” Both Cal and I turned to look at him.

Face set in determination, he gritted out, “Your brother disappeared.”

Cal stared at him for a long moment, mouth twisting around possible things to say. At length, he said, “What do you mean, disappeared?”

Wyatt waved an arm. “He went upstairs to check for the coyote while I checked the basement. When I came back, the coyote wasback, but Cam isn’t anywhere. I went upstairs to check”—he was blushing again, the little sweetheart—“but he wasn’t there.”

“Well,” Cal said.

“And his clothes were all over the place.”

Cal opened his mouth, then clamped it shut again. He tossed a furious look my way. Then he plastered on a smile, clapping a hand on Wyatt’s shoulder. “I’ll bet you that’s just yesterday’s clothes or something,” he said.

Wyatt’s brows knitted together. “But—”

Cal waved a hand and started forcibly steering the vet toward the back door. “Cam’s one of those guys that dresses like a cartoon character—same outfit, right down to his socks.”

“But where did he go?”