The main door opened, and he saw just what he was wishing for when a man walked inside. Ryder’s nostrils flared, scenting distress and worry, but underneath something delicious, spicy, sweet like cinnamon, caught his attention. His whole self, body and soul, sat up and took notice.
“Well now, who is this?”
Chapter
Two
Nolan Chamsy saw the blinking neon pig sign and shook his head.
Really? Really, Race would send him to a bar named the Hogg? With a bunch of motorcycles outside?
This didn’t look safe.
Race had insisted this was the place he was supposed to go, though, so here he was. He was meant to go in, tell the bartender that he was requesting sanctuary, and give the guy Race’s number.
He hoped it was right because if he wasn’t, Nolan thought he’d just lie down on the ground and give up.
It’d been the longest three months of his life. He’d been claimed by an alpha he didn’t want. Who was an utter dick, and dangerous to boot. Nolan had managed to get away, finding a series of friendly truckers and buses and one weird train scenario to shuttle him to Colorado to seek out his brother Race. No one had found him in the interim.
Herschel hadn’t tracked him down; that was the most important part. Honestly, it was bad enough that he wasn’t Herschel’s mate and had been kept there against his will, but he couldn’t bear—bear, get it, goddess he amused himself—being inthe throes of passion and going “Oh, Herschel, Herschel, do me now.”
Yeah.
No.
Nolan wrapped his arms around himself and stared at the giant neon sign for a few more seconds. Then he decided he would go on faith, because Race was his brother, and for that he deserved Nolan’s trust.
He thought.
It had been a while since they’d actually seen one another.
When he finally walked through the door, Nolan stopped just inside, staring at the bouncer, who was some sort of huge predator shifter. He couldn’t tell what kind.
“Hey, there. No cover tonight, so just let the bartender know what you want.” The guy gave him a kind smile.
“Thanks. Will do.” His lips felt stiff, but he pushed the words out.
He stepped into the mostly empty bar, looking around. It was nicer than a biker bar ought to be, so at least it wasn’t terrifying. There was a long, mirror-backed bar with neon beer signs, a bunch of tables and booths, and a couple of pool tables.
His nose wrinkled. He smelled another bear. That made him take a step or two back.
Another bear shifter could be good, or that could be really, really bad. He really wasn’t feeling up to really, really bad.
“Well, what do we have here?” A big grizzly shifter at the bar turned around and stared right at him, and he swallowed hard. The guy was huge, and that alone was intimidating as hell.
“I’m here for sanctuary.” Nolan forced the words out between cold, stiff lips.
The bartender waved him over. “Then you have it, kiddo. My name is Wilder. Race send you?”
“Yes. Yeah.” He took a deep breath, approaching the bar on the far side from the big bear dressed in leather and denim. He didn’t think the guy appeared mean or anything, but he was huge and clearly an alpha, and…
Yeah. Best to avoid that.
He didn’t have the most awesome track record with alphas.
“What can I get you to drink, man?” Wilder slid a menu over in front of him. “And pick something to eat while I make some calls.”
“Okay.” He slid onto the stool he was standing next to, ears and cheeks hot. “Is it always this dead in here?”
