I turned, and there he was.
He was leaning against the wall of the building across the street, arms crossed over his chest, watching me with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. He was handsome — objectively, almost aggressively handsome — with dark hair perfectly styled, a jaw that could cut glass, and clothes that probably cost morethan everything I owned combined. His posture was casual, relaxed, but there was something predatory in the way his gaze tracked my movement.
An Alpha. I could smell it from here — something sharp and metallic underneath expensive cologne, something that made every instinct I had scream danger. His scent was wrong. Off. Like milk just starting to turn, like fruit beginning to rot. It was Alpha, unmistakably, but there was an instability to it, a raggedness that spoke of something broken underneath the polished exterior.
Lone Alpha, my hindbrain whispered. Unstable. Run.
He was already pushing off the wall, already crossing the street toward me, his smile widening into something that might have looked charming if his eyes weren't so cold.
"Well, well." His voice was smooth, cultured, with an accent I couldn't quite place — somewhere else, somewhere with money — his tone dripping with false pleasantness as he stopped a few feet away, close enough that his wrong scent hit me full force, making my stomach turn. "You must be the new girl everyone's been talking about." He raked his gaze over me from head to toe, slow and deliberate, his dark eyes lingering in places that made my skin crawl. "Reid's new... acquisition."
The word made my stomach turn, made something feral and protective rear up inside me, my hands curling into fists at my sides.
"I don't know what you're talking about." My voice came out steadier than I felt, every muscle in my body coiled to run, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. "And I don't know who you are."
"How rude of me." He pressed a hand to his chest in mock apology, his smile never wavering, his eyes never warming, his scent washing over me in waves that made my hindbrain whimper with the urge to flee. "Easton Branston. I own theranch that borders Longhorn to the east." He extended his hand toward me, palm up, an invitation that felt more like a trap, his manicured fingers steady and sure. "And you are?"
I didn't take his hand. Didn't move. Didn't breathe.
"Not interested." The words came out flat, hard, my Omega screaming at me to submit and my survivor's instincts screaming louder to fight, my jaw clenching with the effort of holding my ground.
Something flickered in his expression — surprise, maybe, or irritation — before the smooth mask slid back into place, his hand dropping to his side, his smile sharpening at the edges.
"Feisty." His voice dropped lower, something almost admiring in his tone, but there was an edge to it that made my skin prickle, his head tilting as he studied me like I was something fascinating he'd found under a rock. "I can see why Reid's so taken with you. He always did like a challenge." He took a step closer, and I forced myself not to retreat, forced myself to hold my ground even as his scent made bile rise in my throat, even as every instinct screamed at me to run. "Though I have to say, I'm surprised he's willing to share. Reid's never been good at playing with others."
"What do you want?" My voice came out as a growl, low and threatening, surprising even me with its ferocity, my feral instincts rising to the surface. Something flickered in his eyes — interest, maybe, or hunger — before his smile widened again, his pupils dilating in a way that made my stomach turn.
"Just being neighborly." He spread his hands, all innocence, but his scent spiked with something darker, something hungry, his voice going silky and false. "Thought I'd introduce myself to the newest member of the Longhorn family. See what all the fuss is about." His gaze raked over me again, slow and deliberate, possessive in a way that made me want to vomit, his tonguedarting out to wet his lips. "I have to say, I understand the appeal now. You're quite pretty, for a feral little thing."
"Leave her alone, Easton." Marley's voice cracked through the air like a whip, and I'd never been so grateful to hear anyone in my life. She was standing in the doorway of her shop, arms crossed, her expression thunderous, her entire posture radiating barely contained fury despite her smaller Beta frame, her brown eyes blazing with protective rage.
Easton's smile didn't waver, but something in his eyes went cold and flat as he turned to face her, his whole demeanor shifting into something more guarded, his shoulders tensing almost imperceptibly.
"Marley." His voice was silk over steel, pleasant and poisonous, his smile turning sharp and brittle. "Always a pleasure."
"I doubt that." Marley stepped out onto the sidewalk, putting herself between me and Easton with a deliberateness that made my chest ache with gratitude, her weathered hands curling into fists at her sides, her chin lifting in defiance. "You know you're not welcome in this part of town. I think it's time you moved along."
"Last I checked, it was a free country." Easton's smile sharpened, his scent spiking with aggression that made my hindbrain whimper, his posture going subtly threatening, his dark eyes glittering with barely concealed hostility. "I can go where I please."
"And I can call the sheriff and tell him you're harassing young women again." Marley's voice was pure ice, her brown eyes hard as flint, not backing down an inch despite the Alpha dominance rolling off him, her jaw set with stubborn determination. "Your choice, Easton. Walk away now, or deal with the consequences."
For a long moment, no one moved. The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on, Easton's scent going sharp anddangerous, his smile fixed in place like a mask about to crack, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
Then he laughed — a hollow, empty sound that made my blood run cold, his eyes never leaving my face even as he addressed Marley.
"No need for hostilities." He held up his hands in mock surrender, taking a step back, but his gaze found mine over Marley's shoulder, something dark and promising lurking in their depths, his voice dropping to something almost intimate. "We're all friends here." His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile, something that made my skin crawl. "I'm sure we'll see each other again soon, little Omega. Give my regards to Reid and the boys."
He turned and walked away, his stride casual, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. I watched him go, my heart pounding, my hands shaking, my whole body vibrating with the urge to run.
Only when he'd disappeared around the corner did I let myself breathe.
"Inside." Marley's hand closed around my arm, firm but gentle, steering me back toward the shop, her voice tight with barely contained fury, her grip almost bruising in its protectiveness. "Now."
I didn't argue. Let her guide me through the door, let her push me into a chair, let her press a cup of something hot and strong into my trembling hands.
"Drink." Her voice brooked no argument, her brown eyes fierce as she pressed the cup into my palms, and I obeyed automatically, the liquid burning a path down my throat, settling warm in my stomach. Whiskey, I realized belatedly. Marley kept whiskey in her shop.
"Who was that?" My voice came out shaky, smaller than I wanted it to be, my hands still trembling around the cup, the ceramic warm against my cold fingers.
