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Chapter One

Evren

The pack I grew up in had a lot of customs and traditions, not the least of which was females mating young. From the time I was old enough to speak, I was indoctrinated into accepting the way my life would go. Due to some “human” rules that could cause problems of a legal nature, we were at least granted time to reach eighteen before matching would occur. But rarely did it go much longer than that.

The female would be handed over to the alpha or alphas selected for them, almost always males from another pack. And that had been the fate of everyone I grew up with. One by one, they were matched and mated with no right of refusal, most never to be heard from again. And most with no protest, good girls who went along with the plan because rumor had it that those who did try to argue would be punished severely.

I kept my head down, completed all tasks assigned to me, and tried to keep out of anyone’s notice while I searched for a way out before I was tied down for life. One strategy that seemed to be working was trying to look as little like a female as possible. I wore baggy jeans, baggy shirt, and my hair tightly braided and tucked under a ball cap. I’d adopted the look when my older sister left us for her mating. She hugged me, tears streaking down her cheeks, and whispered that I needed to get out if I could. As soon as I was old enough. And then she was gone, escorted away by a representative of her new pack, to be mated to males she’d never even laid eyes on.

Since that day, I tried to blend into the woodwork, and somehow, it had worked. But females had value, and our alpha and the others in his entourage were not likely to forget that the one available female was still floating around somewhere. Not for much longer, at least, even if I did have manure on my boots.

On this particular day, I was in the barn, mucking out stalls, my phone in my pocket. Around my nineteenth birthday, I’d signed up for the Mail-Order Matings app, and I checked it every day —sometimes multiple times —for the right match. I had many over that time, but they were not the right pack for me. If I didn’t find someone soon, I would have to strike out on my own and hope to make my way somehow.

A completely terrifying prospect since I had no bus ing for jobs in the human world. And lacked the paperwork they were going to be looking for. Some packs had birth certificates and everything for their young to make life easier for them later.

Ours did —for males. Omega females, any females, were just going to be mated off somewhere and why go to the trouble to register their birth? It could even lead to problems if they disappeared. Which happened too often. No, we did not exist in any way that could be problematic. So, for me to try to get a job in some human business? I was given to understand it would be impossible without a birth certificate and one of those registration numbers they all talked about.

With the stalls all cleaned out, I filled the feeding and water troughs and patted the noses of my favorite horses. We also had a few dairy cows in the barn, ready for their next milking in a few hours. My job as well. I spent as many hours a day as possible in the barn, sneaking home after dark to avoid notice.

The invisible girl.

It couldn’t last forever. Someone would remember my existence and that I wasn’t just one more stablehand. Or male. With all the animal settled for the afternoon, I slipped into the tack room to check my phone. Technically, I was only supposed to use it for pack business, but of course that was not what anyone did, and for some reason, nobody ever checked. But I wasn’t stupid enough to show anyone that I had an app for finding a mate happening. That would have led to disaster.

Settling on the battered stool by the workbench, I pulled out my phone, ready to open the app and swipe. A notification from the pack WhatsApp popped up with a message from the alpha.

Pack Run starts at 7 p.m. Bring your pot luck contributions to the alpha house kitchen by 6:30 and meet at the clearing at least ten minutes before we start because I, your lonely widowed alpha, have a big announcement to make. You won’t want to miss this. Or should I say…I don’t want you to.

For a moment, I didn’t react. The alpha was always making announcements and bragging about accomplishments that someone else actually was responsible for. Everyone showed up to hear it because otherwise he had a temper tantrum and ruined the latecomer’s evening or even week, but nobody really listened to the old blowhard.

Then my eyes landed on a phrase that chilled my blood. Lonely widowed alpha. After the last mysterious “accident,” no way would another pack send their female to him. Not for any amount of money. He was getting older, and we all assumed he was done with mates. There was, in my mind, only one thing this could mean.

The one available female under his control. My time of grace was over. He would announce tonight that he was mating with me. Four mates had died under questionable circumstances, one before and three since he took over being alpha. He wanted a fifth.

I checked the app, and there were no new matches. I had rejected all the others, so they didn’t show anymore. What would I do?

Chapter Two

Warren

“That’s it. Time to go.” I waited with my hands on my hips for the captain to give us the approval to go home. We had some inspections that morning and, though I thought we’d done well, sometimes Cap found little things that made us stay later than planned.

“We’re all clear?” I reiterated but picked up my bags anyway. I wanted to go home. I’d been at the firehouse for forty-eight hours and was looking forward to my ninety-six off.

“Hey, man,” Taylor said, knocking his bag against mine. “We’re going to the diner to have some breakfast. Want to join us?”

“Thank, Taylor but I’m going straight home. Got plans with the pack.”

It was a lie. A little one. We always had things to do at home. Lark had deliveries coming in and, while he was perfectly capable of handling things on his own, if I was home, I would help him out. We were pack and, even though some didn’t, we operated like a band of brothers.

“I can’t wait until I find my pack and my omega. Have a good one. See you soon.”

We parted ways getting into our vehicles. The firehouse was only ten minutes from Lark’s bakery, so even though I was tired, I wanted to head there and help where I could.

Rain’s job didn’t call for help from either of us but we all pitched in differently.

“I’m here,” I called out to my packmate as I used my key to open the back door. Fall was particularly busy for him. The mornings and nights got colder and it seemed to trigger people’s need for more carbs in their life. Not that we were complaining. Lark’s bakery had been featured on some social media platforms over the summer and ever since, it was hopping.

“Hey,” Lark popped his head around the corner. “Cookie butter rolls should be done about —” The timer on the oven went off at the exact moment he was going to say the word. “Now.”