This is the life, I thought as I gave my Harley more gas and kicked it up the long winding road that skirted the river. I was coming down through Stone Falls, a little shitty town that wasn’t worth talking about. I did like cruising over the bridge that crossed the river downtown, though. It was scenic, except for the crappy little motel called Seaside Cottages that sat on the side of the road like a boil on a hot dude’s ass.

The snow was really coming down, but my tires were made for the weather, and with the collar up on my leather jacket, a hood over my head and my motorcycle glasses, I was more than comfortable riding through the night – I was free.

This was Scar’s bike, the sadistic alpha who was the closest thing to a father I’d ever known. If God created an eviler son of a bitch, he was down beneath our feet ruling over the depths of Hell.

Scar, a self-appointed name, was head of a pack in the deep woods of Vermont, living out of some old campgrounds on the shores of a lake. He had himself a brood pack of omegas he’d fuck and impregnate when he felt like it, giving them really only a brief respite between pregnancies, and I was the result of one of them.

I never knew my other father. It could have been any of the group he’d collected over the years. They came and went. He’d kick them out on their own when he was through with them, and none of his children ever knew who’d given birth to them.

He’d “raised” me, which basically meant he gave me food, shelter and clothes, and a nice smack on the face if I ever spoke out of turn or did something he disagreed with. Everyone in Scar’s pack was there to build up his own image and ego, and when I was able, I got the fuck out of there.

At twelve, I stole his bike out of the shed. I could barely even hold the thing up, but he’d given me an exceptional beating that night and I’d had enough. I pulled it out, doused the shed and the rest of his bikes in gasoline and lit them on fire. Before the smoke had even started to rise I was gone.

I spent the next six years moving from place to place across New England. New Hampshire, Massachusetts, and now finally Maine. I took odd jobs, construction, landscaping, some woodworking, and kept moving. I knew Scar wouldn’t come after me. I wasn’t important enough. God only knew how many offspring he had. Losing one didn’t matter to him.

Living free was the only way to live for me. No attachments, no strings, just my ass on my bike and my tires on the road, heading wherever life would take me. And right now, life was taking me down to The Love Knot.

It had been ages since I’d had a nice piece of ass, and I was going a little wild. The wolf in me had been crying out for months. Normally, I’m not one for the hookup bars, but my lifestyle isn’t really conducive to relationships, so it can be hard to maintain any kind of sex life.

My suspension clunked as I hit the bridge through Stone Falls, and I looked to my left at the cold water pouring down the snow-covered rocks and wondered what was up that way. Seemed like a nice place to hike or explore sometime, but right now I had other plans.

I gunned it and roared through the town, passing the shitty motel on my right. I spit at the damn thing, what a fucking eyesore.

I kept going, my tires spitting snow as I left Stone Falls behind and kept moving. It wasn’t long before I was pulling onto the road leading into White Slopes, a tiny little town with not much to offer besides the club. But that was fine, because that’s where I was headed.

There was a line, as usual. I wheeled my bike down an alley across the street and parked. The street was dark and shadowed and looked like a great spot to get your ass jumped, but I wasn’t worried about it. Between being over six feet tall and being covered in tattoos with dark rock-star hair well over my shoulders, not too many people fucked with me. And that was wise.

I stepped right past the group of alphas waiting in the cold, warming their hands and sniffing the air for the scent of a prime omega, and as I came closer to the club I caught a whiff of something I hadn’t expected.

Someone’s in heat…

My cock twitched beneath my worn black jeans as my nostrils probed the air for the direction of the omega. Beneath his heat, his own scent was fucking great. I followed it right up to the door of the club where I came face to face with a big donut-looking bastard who was watching the door.

He greeted me by placing his thick sausage paw on my chest.

“Whoa, there, big fella,” he said with authority. “Where you think you’re going?”

I just smiled. “Inside. My mate’s in there.”

“Your mate, huh?” he asked, his eyebrows raising skeptically. “And who’s your mate?”

“You know who he is,” I replied, giving him just as much attitude back. “He’s the one who’s got all your boys’ sniffers working overtime right now.”

The bouncer’s face lit up and he looked at me with surprise.

“That sweet smelling omega’s yours?” he asked with disbelief. “What are you doing letting him down here when he’s in heat like that? And who was that chump he was with!?”

My fist tightened at my side.

Of course he has someone with him, I thought. Fuck. I’ll just have to cross that bridge when I get there.

“Bodyguard,” I told him. “To keep all you sons of bitches off my boy.”

I saw him tense up when I said that, but I threw him a wink and a grin like we were two old bros sharing stories about hot pieces of ass we’d laid eyes on. And it worked. He flashed me a set of yellow teeth and pulled the rope aside.

“Shiet,” he chuckled. “I’d be some sort of asshole if I kept you from a fine piece of ass like that. Hope you take him outta here soon and make good use of that heat!”

“Oh, you bet I will,” I replied, tossing the big boy a fist bump as I passed him.

You bet I will…