Chapter 2
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 in the 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?”
“No.” The big guy grinned at him. “It will be packed tomorrow, so you picked a good night to show up.” The guy gave him a pretty intense inspection, up and down. “So did I.”
Oh, damn. Okay, so Nolan broke that down mentally. The guy was enormous. Pretty, with his shaggy brownish-blondish hair and dark eyes. He wasn’t giving off smarmy or dangerous vibes like Herschel, but he was clearly interested.
And Nolan was pretty sure he didn’t need that right now.
“I—” He cleared his throat. “I’m having a hard time, okay?”
Something wild flashed gold in those hot eyes for a moment, but then the guy held his hands up, sympathy filling his expression. “Sure. Of course. I’m Ryder. And if there’s anything I can do to help, just say the word.”
Tears stung his eyes suddenly at the kind tone. “Thank you. I—” He took a deep breath. “What’s good here?”
“Well, the drinks are always great, but food-wise, I love the fried cheese. If you want a real meal, the soup of the day is actually made on the premises, and it’s usually damn good.”
He tried for a small smile, because he’d expected this guy to recommend seared meat. “I like soup.”
“Today’s special is loaded baked potato soup. Cheese, green onions, bacon, the whole nine yards.” The bartender nodded to him, the smile warm and easy. “I highly recommend it.”
“I’ll take it, please. Thank you.” He would have just enough money to eat. He sat there and stared at his hands for a hot minute. They were beginning to shake, now that he had finally made it here, and he thought it was safe.
“How do you know Race?”
“He’s my brother.” Race was the eldest omega in the family, and his hero. No one tried to challenge Race. No one dared to ‘give’ Race to anyone.
Race was his own man.
The grizzly’s eyes went wide. “Your brother? Well, that’s cool.”
“He’s amazing. I know he’s very busy with his rescue operation, but he said I could come whenever I needed to, so…I’m here.”
And he was proud of himself for getting out.
He wasn’t sure what else he’d been supposed to do.
They weren’t like wolves; the hierarchy wasn’t so strict.
But bears in the middle of nowhere could have strong positions on mating where joining territories were concerned, and everyone but him had been convinced it was the perfect match.
There was only one problem.
Herschel wasn’t his mate.
And there was no way Nolan was going to be stuck with the big, verbally abusive asshole for life. Herschel hadn’t hit him. Yet. But he’d felt as if it was not too far off, considering Herschel’s “respect” for body autonomy.
Which was non-existent. Christ.
“Hey.” The big bear hadn’t moved any closer, but somehow he seemed to fill the space. “What would you like to drink, huh? Wilder can get you pretty much anything.”
“Um. Ginger ale would be great.” He felt queasy now. That would settle him down, make it easier to eat.
“You got it.” The Wilder guy got him an icy-cold ginger ale.
He appreciated that no one fussed at him for not having a beer or a tequila or something. He just couldn’t. He didn’t want to be in a position where he wasn’t completely in command of his faculties.
Maybe once he got to Race’s house, sure. But not yet.
Not in a bar with strangers.
“Did you manage to get hold of Race?” he asked.
Wilder shook his head. “No, I think he’s out on a job, but don’t worry. We’ll find him. It just might take a few hours.”
The big guy snorted. “Or a couple of days, depending on what he’s up to.”
“Yeah, he’s sort of amazing, isn’t he?” Nolan had to smile at that. His brother rescued omegas from terrible situations. Like him.
The big bear nodded. “He’s a great guy. He and I are good friends. I’ve worked with him more than once.”
Oh, was the big bear possibly Race’s mate? Could that be a thing? That idea was a little wild, a little off somehow.
“I’m Ryder, by the way.”
“Like Ride or Die?” he teased.
“Like Ryder Price.” The quick comeback wasn’t mean. In fact, it was kind of fond and vaguely amused, like the grizzly had heard that joke at least a thousand times a day.
“I’m Nolan Anders. Pleased to meet you.” He dared to reach his hand out to shake Ryder’s.
Ryder’s hand engulfed his, and lightning zapped him from his toes to his nose. He gasped, his hair standing on end, and he swore he heard Ryder rumble, soft and low.
“I—I’m sorry. I must be staticky as all hell.” It was so cold and windy out.
“No apologies needed. This is Denver. We have a lot of static due to the dry.”
He breathed in deep, fighting his body’s reaction to the big guy. “Yeah, I noticed there was no humidity.”
“Drink lots of water to start with if you’re not used to this.”
A water landed on the bar next to his ginger ale. “He’s got a point,” Wilder said. “You can get dehydrated fast and get a headache.”
He smiled faintly. These two alphas were… kind. He felt as if he could be safe here. And it was warm, he was feeling a little drowsy…
“Here you go.” The soup came out with a big piece of crusty bread, smelling like potatoes, bacon, and cheese, and he could have just cried at how homey and comforting it seemed as he breathed it in.
“You want to move to that back booth, honey?” Ryder asked him. “It’s a nice corner situation, and I can keep an eye on you if you want to eat and have a nap while we wait for Race.”
A nap. God, when was the last time he’d slept while he was on this wild run to Colorado?
“I don’t want to put you out.”
“Honey, I’m just here to drink a few beers and chat with Wilder and Colt over there. Maybe Quin, the owner, if he shows. I am entirely at your disposal.” The big guy made a show of bowing to him.
He had to laugh, but the whole routine also relaxed him some. That bow really was symbolic, and Ryder didn’t touch him again, which was surprisingly disappointing.
So he nodded. “I would like that, thank you.”
“Let me carry your soup.” Ryder reached for his bowl at the same time as he did, their hands colliding.
He gasped, because that wild spark happened again, and it wasn’t static.
Dammit.
He could hardly breathe with how crazy his reaction was to Ryder.
Nolan grabbed his drinks to take to the table, head down, eyes on the floor. He couldn’t afford sparks. Not right now. Not when Herschel had to be looking for him.
“Oh, sweet, it’s all right.” The big grizzly’s voice was like a warm blanket. “You’re safe here. You asked for sanctuary, and you have it.”
He smiled and swallowed, trying not to cry. “I feel so stupid. Sorry, I’m just a little overwhelmed. It’s been a long couple of days. Race couldn’t make it to me where I was, so I had to escape on my own and try to meet him here, and I was—”
“I bet.”
They settled into the booth. It was comfortable and quiet, somewhere that felt protected and well-defended.