Two Wild Hearts (Alphas of the Western Provinces #4)

Prologue

Several years ago…

The sunlight was warm on his back as Emerson Walker stood on the dock with his twin brother, staring down at their uncle’s boat.

The wind off the brackish water swept his hair back from his face, bringing the strident scent of salt mixed with a hint of sulphureous rot from decaying seaweed to his nose.

The boat had seen better days. The last time he’d been on it, his uncle had snatched him by the throat in a wild flash of anger.

Sure, his mouth had spurred on that anger, but the attack had been unwarranted.

A twelve-year-old mouthing off was to be expected.

A forty-something alpha completely losing his shit over it was not.

Emerson had never gotten an apology, either—but then, he’d given his uncle the widest berth after that encounter. Chances had been few. They’d seen very little of each other in the years that followed. When they did, it was usually from across a crowded room filled with family as a buffer.

Maybe the boat bequeathment was that apology.

Or so he’d first thought.

The thing needed a ton of work. From whispers at the funeral, his uncle had stopped taking care of himself near the end. That had clearly stretched to his home, too.

His uncle had left him a floating trash heap.

Some apology.

It now seemed more like a final middle finger.

“You could always sell it,” Harrison said.

He stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Harrison on the dock, staring at the mess their uncle had left behind. It was then Emerson noticed they weren’t actually shoulder-to-shoulder. He was a good inch taller than his twin. They had the same face. The same coloring. The same build.

But he was taller?

“Someone might be able to fix it up,” Harrison continued. “I doubt you’ll get much, but it would be more than you’ve got now. You could use the money to get an apartment… or something. I don’t know.”

Emerson eyed his twin. He glanced down, trying to see if there was something his brother was standing on, but they were level. Same shoes, too. They were both in their Fire Department-issued dress uniform.

Weird.

After a lifetime of being mirror images of one another, noticing the deviation left him feeling…

detached. Their bond—already fraught—was somehow weaker.

Emerson frowned, the thought unsettling.

He loved Harrison. He loved all his brothers, but he and Harrison had been together since conception.

They’d emerged from the womb as two peas in a pod and continued that way all through their childhood.

But things had changed.

He’d changed. Not so much changed but opened his eyes to the truth. His truth and Harrison’s truth weren’t the same. Another deviation.

Instead of dwelling on that and making himself feel sick, Emerson focused on the boat. The amount of work it would need was daunting. He was an eighteen-year-old kid. What the fuck did he know about boat repair?

Yeah, I should probably sell it.

At the reading of the will, his first instinct had been ‘fuck no—I don’t want anything from that bastard’ but his father had put a hand over his and given a look that had screamed ‘shut the fuck up.’ Raised to be a good boy who listened to his parents, Emerson had shut the fuck up.

Fuming, he’d sat through the rest of that long-assed meeting, ready to bolt the second it was over.

The longer he’d sat with the news of his sudden windfall, though, the more his mind whirled at the possibilities.

If his uncle had lived there, maybe he could, too.

Not all the time, but on his nights off from the station when home was too loud and he needed quiet.

He’d never been alone in his life, not with seven siblings, his papa, and father all cramped into that small house—and now bunking with a group of other men at the fire station.

The boat could be his safe haven. Something all his own.

Only, he hadn’t expected it to be in such bad shape.

Figures. Asshole.

Emerson climbed down from the deck, the craft swaying under his feet. He spun in a slow circle taking it all in. When he stopped, the door leading down below was directly in front of him. Walking forward, he reached for the knob.

“Em—I told you I have to get back for my shift,” Harrison said.

“Go if you need to,” Emerson said. “I’ll catch a trolley back.”

“Why stay?” Harrison asked. “You didn’t even want this piece of crap.”

“I just want to look,” Emerson snapped.

Harrison sighed.

“Fuck, Harrison. Just go. No one asked you to come in the first place.”

His twin’s gaze whipped to his, pain flashing in those identical eyes.

When had they become this? They’d once been near inseparable, but they’d drifted so far apart, even while sharing the same bedroom.

Now that they were both stationed on opposite ends of the province and spent most of their time at work, they hardly saw one another anymore.

If he moved onto the boat, there would be even fewer chances for them to cross paths.

He missed Harrison, even as he stood there staring back, but didn’t know how to fix it.

Emerson opened his mouth to apologize but couldn’t force the words out.

“Whatever,” Harrison muttered. “See you later.”

He stood for a few seconds listening to his twin’s footfalls growing more distant, pain lancing his chest. The boat listed from side to side on a swell before growing peaceful again. He closed his eyes, angry at himself for being thankful to be alone.

After he opened the locked door with the set of keys the attorney had given him, he ducked his head and walked inside. A growl rose up his throat. The inside was worse than the outside. He lifted his hand to his nose, the stench horrendous.

To his immediate right, a tiny galley kitchen was overloaded with dirty dishes, rotting food, and trash.

The main salon looked like an underachieving hoarder had lived there.

The built-in sofas, dining table, and counters were loaded with crap.

The narrow space thankfully didn’t allow for much, but what it had was filled to capacity.

He walked deeper and peeked in at the three cabins and two heads—all of them a mess.

Where did he even start?

Was it worth his time?

His nose told him it wasn’t, so first off, the odor had to go.

After a quick search, he fished out a box of garbage bags from the galley storage and tossed everything in the sink there—plates and dishes and all.

He’d buy new if he had to. No way he could ever stomach eating off them, no matter how much he scrubbed.

Once the kitchen was cleared away, he started going through the salon, pitching almost everything that wasn’t nailed down.

A couple of hours later, the combined salon and galley area was cleared out—and he finally sensed there was potential as he looked around.

Some cleaning supplies and elbow grease, and the inside might be salvageable.

He spent the next hour tossing the stuff from the main cabin into trash bags.

Most of the clothes were threadbare and not worth donating.

The only thing he kept was a small box of what looked like old family photos, some featuring his dad and grandparents—or his brothers.

When the room only had the mattress—which he’d replace—and the photos left, he searched it, checking to see if there was anything he’d missed.

It was then that Emerson noticed a built-in cabinet he’d overlooked.

He reached for the latch, but it was locked.

After digging out the keys, he tried a couple until he found the right one.

He swung the door open and found piles of magazines inside.

Who the fuck locked away magazines? As soon as he pulled one out, his eyes widened and he realized it was those kinds of magazines.

Emerson frowned, grimacing at the thought of finding his uncle’s spank bank. Grossed out, he dropped the magazine and it fell to the floor, the pages flying open. He glared down at it but froze when he realized what he was looking at.

Two naked alphas in an embrace, caressing one another’s bodies.

Emerson’s jaw dropped, his heart beating faster.

He toed the page, turning it with the tip of his boot.

Another set of alphas kissing with their hands clutching each other’s hard cocks, just above their thick knots.

His cock thickened at the sight of them.

After slowly sitting on the cabin floor beside the magazine, he used the barest tip of his finger to turn another page. And another.

Alphas together on every one.

Hugging. Kissing. Touching.

Sucking.

Fucking.

Sweat beaded at his brow by the time he came to the page where an alpha had taken another's full, swollen knot inside him.

Emerson took in a shaky breath, his cock rock hard and pressing against the inside of his pants.

Lowering a hand to cover himself, a wet spot spread against his palm.

He closed his eyes tight, furious at himself.

I can’t… this is wrong…

Intimate relationships between alphas were outlawed.

Emerson had never really understood why.

They were all men—omega, beta, or alpha—what did it matter?

Considering the number of omegas born had been in freefall for decades, more and more alphas were turning to betas for satisfaction, and on occasion, more than that.

When he’d been a boy, there had been shock and outrage when people spoke of an alpha marrying a beta, but nowadays, those relationships had become commonplace.

Yet alphas together were still illegal. What was the big fucking deal?

He knew the answer. The whole toxic alpha dominance bullshit. An alpha who surrendered to another was considered unworthy of the class distinction. Somehow, he was less of an alpha for enjoying the pleasures of his own body—and an alpha who was attracted to that was almost just as bad.

For years, Emerson had questioned himself and his attractions.

He’d known that he wasn’t like other alphas.

His high school classmates had talked incessantly about fucking omegas and getting some slick.

The whole thing sickened Emerson, especially the way some had spoken of dominating and controlling omegas by force.

That wasn’t strength in his mind. Only a weak man wanted to exert control over someone smaller with much less strength.

The idea of being with an omega had never interested Emerson, but he’d played along and pretended he was just one of the alphas.

In some ways he was. He was a teenager hopped up on alpha pheromones and puberty hormones.

He constantly thought about sex and rutting.

He was excited by the prospect of getting a man under him—only it wasn’t a soft, yielding omega he wanted there.

He wanted a challenge. He wanted someone hard and firm, and equal to him in strength.

He wanted what he shouldn’t want.

He wanted an alpha.

Emerson had hidden that attraction from the world—including his entire family—and he’d have to continue hiding it for the rest of his life.

His chest tightened at the thought. There would be no mating for him. No family. None of the other things his brothers had been raised to expect.

At least he had the scarcity of omegas working in his favor. With so few born every year, many alphas never found their mate. If he was lucky, he'd be one of those alphas.

Emerson living a life alone might never be questioned because of that.

A life alone…

Emerson closed his eyes and fought back a wave of hopelessness that upset his stomach.

He sat there until the sun set, the slow shadows sliding on the cabin wall until darkness filled the room.

When it turned cold, he swiped the dampness under his eye and forced himself up onto his feet.

Once the magazine was locked back in the cabinet, he wandered out, four full trash bags in hand to add to the eight he’d already carted to the garbage bin in the parking lot.

Later, after a long, long hot shower, he slid into his bunk at the firehouse and tried to sleep. Slumber wouldn’t come. He was almost pleased when the alarm went off. He jumped out of his bed and ran to the firepole, ready to save someone else’s day.

He sure as hell couldn’t save his own.