Chapter Two
JESSE
Jesse refused to get out of the bed until the man, Bryce, had given him a robe and left the room.
He hadn’t missed that alpha’s comment about Bryce’s ulterior motives.
For all he knew, these shifters were a bunch of perverts who’d kidnapped him for reasons he didn’t want to think about.
He knew bad shit happened all too often to drifters because no one would miss them, and the way that alpha had looked at him…
yeah, he had no intention of letting Jesse leave anytime soon, that was clear.
On the other hand, save for that red wolf jumping him, they hadn’t hurt him. Not yet. But Jesse had learned long ago that kindness was just a prelude to control. His wound throbbed, and an antiseptic smell clung to the air, too clean, too clinical—like they were preparing him for something.
There wasn’t much in the room to give away what this place was.
The twin bed he’d been in had a blue comforter, there was a wooden dresser with empty drawers, and a bedside cabinet with a lamp on it.
A lamp with a tasseled pink shade. Not exactly the kind of interior design he’d expect from an alpha dressed all in black.
An alpha who’d looked set on tearing him apart.
He froze at a knock on the bedroom door, his heart rate ratcheting up when nothing more happened. The knock came again.
“Yeah?” He had to clear his throat and repeat the word because it came out a bit squeaky.
The door opened to reveal Bryce carrying Jesse’s stuffed duffel and his boots. “Figured you’d want something to wear after your shower,” Bryce said, placing them on the carpet.
Well, yeah. But Jesse got the feeling Bryce had said it just for something to say. He was looking at Jesse, eyebrows raised. “Is that okay?”
“Sure,” Jesse said with a shrug. He didn’t know what Bryce was trying to do.
Bryce came further into the room, and Jesse stepped abruptly backwards, heart thudding. He’d been right. Strangers were a threat. Everyone was a threat.
“Just checking you’ve got body wash and a towel,” Bryce said on his way past, opening the door to what was evidently a bathroom. “You’re good, so long as you don’t mind smelling like jasmine. I think Tristan’s girlfriend left it behind.”
He turned to look at Jesse, a sympathetic grimace on his face. “I don’t know if I can actually call her his girlfriend, seeing as they only had three dates, but I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”
Bryce sure talked a lot. About nothing much, as far as Jesse could tell.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Bryce said.
Like he couldn’t have done that already?
But Bryce was bigger and stronger than Jesse, so he didn’t say that.
His smart mouth had gotten him into enough trouble as it was, and he’d learned early on not to let himself get trapped anywhere.
It started in that foster home—fingers digging into his arms, bruises blooming under skin that stayed sore for days.
He used to think he’d never scrub the prints off.
Later, it got worse. Different kinds of grabs. Different kinds of wanting. Seemed like being smaller and slighter just made him look like prey.
“Okay,” he said, hoping it would speed Bryce out the door but ready to fight with everything he had for his freedom. Thankfully, with yet another smile, Bryce left.
Anyone who smiled that much was either up to no good or trying to get in Jesse’s pants, except Bryce somehow hadn’t given Jesse either impression. He didn’t understand Bryce, but he knew better than to trust him.
Jesse locked the door behind him and rooted through his stuff. It was all there, thank God. Wedging the bedside chair under the door handle, he grabbed everything and took it into the bathroom.
There, he locked the door tight before pressing his back against it, breath catching. No one could get in. He was safe—for now. But the knot in his chest didn’t loosen, not even when he undressed and stepped into the shower.
Ever since he’d opened his eyes and seen that alpha, something had been thrumming under his skin. The way Urban had looked at him, all dominance and calm, had set off a reaction Jesse didn’t want to examine too closely.
Even now, Jesse could feel the man’s presence behind him. Like a predator’s breath on the back of his neck.
And the tension? It wasn’t only fear. Something else had curled low in his gut the second he saw Urban.
When he’d opened his eyes and seen him—blond hair, intense green eyes, sensual mouth, a stubborn jawline and that damn cleft in his chin—something primal had jolted through him.
Something he hadn’t expected and didn’t want to examine too closely.
But then Urban had started talking to him like he didn’t know anything, like he was a child, even though Urban couldn’t be much more than thirty himself. It had gotten his back up. That, at least, felt familiar.
It wasn’t his fault he didn’t know about scent markings—he hadn’t been raised around other shifters. Wouldn’t have wanted to be, even if he’d had the chance. Packs meant someone else having control over you. Jesse had already had enough of that before he ever learned he had claws.
Realizing just how long he’d been in the damn shower, he turned it off and dried himself. The wound on his side was scabbed over now, but he was still pissed it was there at all. Just another reminder that even when he ran, he wasn’t always fast enough.
Once dressed, his hair still damp, Jesse hesitated uncertainly at the bedroom door. He should have been miles away by now, catching a ride down another highway to nowhere. Instead, he was here in some strange alpha’s house, trying not to look like prey.
He stuck his phone and wallet in his pocket, but he wasn’t sure what to do with the rest of his stuff. He didn’t trust other wolves not to take it if they saw it, but he wasn’t about to leave it unwatched, either.
Eventually, impatient with his own dithering, Jesse slung his duffel over his shoulder.
He stepped into the hallway, keeping his ears pricked, every creak of the floorboards making his skin twitch.
The corridor stretched long and dim, with whitewashed walls and dark wooden doors, too many places to be ambushed from.
He paused, eyeing the front door—but no way he’d make it out before one of them stopped him. His fingers tightened on the strap of his duffel.
Then the scent hit him. Rich, savory, impossible to ignore. Steak. His stomach clenched hard. Everything that had been screaming at him to run was suddenly swamped by hunger.
He slowed as he reached the kitchen doorway, tension sharpening again.
The room was bigger than most apartments Jesse had known, with a long, battered table dominating the center, terracotta tiles underfoot, and an industrial stove glinting under overhead lights.
A wide window filled almost a whole wall, but even that couldn’t make the space feel open. Not with this many wolves inside.
It felt like a trap. He backed up fast.
Urban swung around just as he scuttled backwards, his eyes going straight to Jesse. Like a homing missile or something. Jesse froze.
“Ignore the crowd,” Urban said. “As soon as they smell food, it’s like that movie about piranhas.”
“Figure if I cook it, I should at least get to eat some of it,” a curly-haired guy said, as he stood at the stove and stirred industriously at the pan in front of him.
“I wasn’t talking about you, Jason, and you know it. It’s the rest of them. Come on in, Jesse. Grab a plateful and take a seat before there’s nowhere left.”
If he ran now, Urban would be so hard on his heels that he’d never make it.
So Jesse put his duffel down by the door, where he could snatch it up on his way out, and picked his way carefully through the kitchen.
The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end, and he knew everyone in that room was equally aware of him.
There was Jason at the stove, and Bryce was leaning back against a counter, a bottle of beer in one hand as he talked to a tall, young guy.
Jesse appreciated the way Bryce pretended not to be watching him and kept the young guy’s attention, even though he was evidently curious, his eyes flicking repeatedly to Jesse.
They mustn’t get many visitors, because it wasn’t like Jesse was exactly exciting.
Jason held out a plate loaded with steak, beans, and a baked potato with sour cream, and the smell alone was nearly killing Jesse.
It was all he could do not to snatch it and run.
Aware of the eyes on him, he made do with grabbing it and holding it tight as he moved to sit at the long oak table in the center of the room.
As if that was a signal, the rest of them took full plates from Jason and sat down.
Jesse’s gaze flickered around the table, assessing threat, and he only picked up his fork when everyone else had their silverware in hand and was digging in.
Never could tell how far someone would go.
They might have been waiting for him to start eating so that he’d be distracted before they did whatever they had in mind.
Whatever they did have in mind was evidently going to wait until after the meal, because everyone was focused on the food. Which, yeah, Jesse understood because his steak practically melted in his mouth, and it was all he could do not to moan with pleasure.
Maybe not everyone was focused on the food. Urban wasn’t watching Jesse, but he was somehow tuned in to his every move, like a predator reading prey. That damn alpha was dangerous.
The back door opened as Jesse scraped the last of the cream from his plate. Two men came in, stamping the dust from their boots.
“Tell me you—holy shit,” one of them said, and Jesse shot to his feet.
That was Red, the asshole who’d taken him down earlier, and he wasn’t looking any friendlier now than he had then. His mahogany hair echoed the red-tipped ears and tail Jesse remembered. The blond guy behind him with the butterfly stitches on his cheek must be the one Jesse had swiped.
Red was glaring at him. “You’re feeding the little shit?”
“Christian.” Matt’s voice was low and deep, filled with warning. “Jesse’s our guest.”
“You did see what he did to Dave?” Red’s words were practically a snarl.
“Hey, I asked for it, sticking my muzzle in his flank. Right, Jesse?” Dave said, coming further into the kitchen.
The room was getting too full. This was too close to being out of control.
“Appreciate you gettin’ my boots,” Jesse said, and bolted for his duffel and the hallway.