After thinking long and hard about his mated friends, Brogan decided to call Braun Etting Bloom for help. He knew Braun the least, but when he first met his bondmate Tarek, Braun had been adamant he didn’t want to mate—like Mikel was now, only gender switched. If anyone had ideas for him, Braun would.

“Hey, Brogan, it’s good to hear from you,” Braun said after Brogan rang him up.

“You, too.” They’d never been super-close, not even when they were part of the same support group, but they were friendly. Braun was a cheerful guy, had a young child with his mate, and he fought for every omega he met. “I need your advice about a complicated problem I encountered this weekend.”

“I’m intrigued. Hit me.”

Brogan explained everything from Perks to Mikel’s departure an hour ago, and the agreement they’d made to get to know each other. Braun was quiet for a long time after Brogan finished talking, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad sign. “Hello?”

“Sorry,” Braun said, “I’m just a little stunned.”

“I know it’s a shock because of Mikel’s history, but I wouldn’t have agreed to date him if I didn’t completely trust that he’s a different man. He was in a horrible place last spring, and he’s working so hard to get better. He’s so broken, Braun, and I want to help him.”

“It’s our instinct to help those in need. Just don’t do it at your own expense, okay?”

“I’m not, and trust me, my guardians are on top of it.”

“Okay, so what kind of advice do you need from me?”

“Liam told me once that you resisted Tarek’s advances for a long time, and that Tarek had to court you. Woo you. I want to woo Mikel.”

Braun let out a choking, half-laugh sound. “Well, I think this is the first I’ve heard of an omega chasing after an alpha. It’s always the other way around.”

“I know, so I don’t know what to do. What did Tarek do?”

“He was patient. He was honest. He took care of me, even when I was upset with him.”

“But those are all basic things.”

“Oh, I know! Food. He cooked for me, bought my favorite takeout and sweets. Alphas love to eat, so try wooing him with food. You’re a good cook, right?”

“I am.” It wasn’t bragging when you agreed with someone else’s compliment, right? The memory of Mikel’s near-orgasmic expression when he first tasted the bacon jam flashed in Brogan’s mind. “I can definitely woo him with food. He’s kind of skinny, anyway, probably from his meds.”

Shit, that wasn’t his information to share.

Braun didn’t comment on the slip, though. “So brunch seemed to go over well,” he said. “Invite Mikel over for dinner. Show him you’ll be a good mate. It’ll give you both a chance to get comfortable around the other.” Someone squawked on his end of the line. “Sorry, Rei doesn’t like me not paying attention to him.”

“How is Rei? Jaysan said he had a cold?”

“A small one, but his fever’s gone now and he’s got his energy back, thanks. How’s Peyton?”

“Amazing, thank you. I actually need to pick Kell’s brain about potty training soon.”

Braun laughed. “Jax did the same thing yesterday at brunch. Apparently now that Karson is two, it’s time to get on it.”

“They grow so fast. I can’t believe Peyton will be two soon.”

“Never mind. Now that Rei is walking, any play dates we have with Branson and the other kids are crazy active, and with Kell so far along, he gets to sit while I chase children.”

“How is Kell doing?”

“So far, so good. Following doctor’s orders to a tee, and Ronin is driving Kell crazy with all his texts and check-in calls, but that’s what he gets for worrying us all.”

“You worry because you love each other.”

More than two years ago, Kell had nearly died giving birth to his first son because of the physical and sexual abuse of his first mate. This past spring, he and his new mate had carefully considered expanding their family during their next heat. Kell was now six months along, and he’d been glowingly happy the last time Brogan saw him in person. Kell and Braun had been incredibly close their entire lives, and Braun hadn’t been excited for the new baby at first. But he loved his big brother and was being supportive.

“Kell will be fine,” Brogan said. “Just think about all the ways Uncle Braun can pamper his new nephew.”

“Good point. Branson is a joy, so I can’t wait to meet the new little man.”

Somewhere in the house, Peyton started wailing. “Uh oh.”

“I hear it. Good luck.”

“Thanks. And thank you again for your advice. Can you keep this thing with Mikel between us for now? I’d rather not become the newest gossip topic just yet.”

“Of course. Talk to you later, Brogan.”

Brogan tracked the noise down the hall to Peyton’s room, which had once been Yeoman’s home office. Despite Brogan insisting he and Peyton could share the guest room when they moved in, Yeoman gave it up so Brogan could have privacy. Daiya was holding Peyton and trying to console him, while Peyton rubbed at his forehead and wailed.

“What’s wrong, Pey-pey?” Brogan asked as Daiya eased the unhappy boy into his arms. Kissed his cheek.

“I think he tripped and hit his head on the side of the desk,” Daiya said.

Brogan clucked his tongue. “Did you trip, baby? Hurt your head?”

“It hurts,” Peyton cried. “Omi.”

“I know, let Omi see.” He pulled Peyton’s little hand away from his forehead. A red mark marred that perfect skin, the right size and shape for him to have fallen against the leg of the desk. He brushed his lips over the spot. “Looks like you had an accident, little man.”

“Hurts.”

“How about we go get an ice pack, huh? It’ll make it hurt less.”

Peyton’s face scrunched into his classic “I’m about to have a fit” face, so Brogan carried him right into the kitchen for a small, flexible ice pack out of the freezer. The instant the cold hit his forehead, Peyton’s expression smoothed out. Eventually, the cold pack ended up in his mouth, instead of on his head, but disaster averted.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Daiya said. “He wandered away, and then he was down.”

“It’s okay, kids get boo-boos. He’s fine. Right, Pey-pey?”

Peyton seemed perfectly content to suck on the cold pack, so Brogan put him down. He toddled out of the kitchen and straight for his pile of toys. Brogan poured himself a glass of juice.

“So did Braun have any good advice?” Daiya asked.

“He suggested wooing Mikel with food.” Brogan watched Peyton empty his bucket of mega blocks and start building something. “It’s such an odd flip, isn’t it? The omega pursuing the alpha?”

“It is unusual, and given Mikel’s history, I’d be more concerned if he’d jumped on the idea of mating immediately. It’s telling that he’s hesitating.”

“Telling?”

“That his own recovery is important to him. It helps me believe he’ll be good to you and Peyton in the future, if you end up together.”

“He will. I know it in my bones, Daiya. I just have to help Mikel believe it, too. Can I invite him over for dinner tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Daiya winked. “Should Yeoman and I make ourselves scarce?”

“Please?”

“What about Peyton?”

Brogan didn’t have to think. “I want Peyton here. I need them to be comfortable around each other, because Peyton and I are a package deal.”

“Okay then. So what are you going to cook for Mikel?”

Game on.

Mikel puttered around his studio apartment, restless and confused, and it had every single thing to do with a handsome, stubborn omegin named Brogan Dale. He didn’t have much room to pace in his small, thirty-square-feet living space, even with the futon he slept on in couch position. Door to window and back again.

He really couldn’t complain about the size, though, since he wasn’t paying rent. The meager amount of food in his tiny kitchen was paid for by a monthly provincial allowance he now received because he couldn’t work. The housing units had a first-floor common area, but Mikel was only one of six alphas currently living here, and it was embarrassing being seen by his beta neighbors.

Alphas didn’t have mental breakdowns, society said, and yet here he was, post-breakdown, living off the province.

How can any omega want a broken alpha like me?

No, he had to stop thinking like that, or he’d never get better. Dr. Callis didn’t allow him to say those things in their sessions, so he needed to keep a positive outlook at home. But bitterness was a difficult friend to chase away, and Mikel was exhausted of trying. Not so exhausted he’d ever put a knife to his wrist again, but exhausted nonetheless.

Brogan’s smile flashed into his mind, and it made Mikel smile at the wall. Brogan wanted him. Brogan believed in him. The mating bond strengthened those things, of course, and maybe Brogan only wanted him so he’d have a mate to protect him, and why was that a bad thing? More than his own mental health, getting better for Brogan and Peyton was a goal Mikel could visualize and fight for. The three of them a family, Brogan pregnant with their child…a home of their own.

Reachable goals, if Mikel had the courage to reach for them.

His mobile rang, and his pulse jumped at the sight of Brogan’s name on the display. They’d exchanged numbers during this afternoon’s long chat, but he hadn’t expected to hear from Brogan again tonight.

“Hi? Hello?” Mikel said.

“Hey, it’s Brogan.”

“I know.”

Brogan laughed. “Of course, sorry. How are you?”

Confused. Excited. Terrified. Aroused. Exhausted.

“I’m fine, and you?” he said, giving the standard response.

“A little nervous, actually, because I’m calling to invite you over for dinner tomorrow night. Here at the house.”

“Dinner?”

He laughed again, and Mikel could become addicted to that lovely sound. “Yes, dinner. Six o’clock. I’m cooking, so dress casual.”

Brogan was cooking him dinner? “I…okay, yes. Dinner. I can do dinner.” Goddess, did he sound like a raving idiot to Brogan?

“Great! It’s just you, me, and Peyton. The Li’s are treating themselves to a date night and going out.”

An icy ball of fear splashed into Mikel’s stomach. “Just us?”

“And the baby, but he seems to like you, so no worries there. Just bring yourself, okay? Oh, and do you have any food allergies I should know about?”

“Um, no, I don’t think so.” Mikel wasn’t used to extravagant food, anyway, so maybe there was some fancy ingredient out there he couldn’t eat, but whatever. His omega was cooking him dinner. “This is a nice surprise, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, but maybe thank me after you taste my food.”

“I’ve tasted your food, and it’s amazing. You really are an excellent cook.”

“Thanks. I guess I should also ask if you have a favorite food?”

“Not really. I mean, I love bacon because growing up we ate what we could afford, and bacon was a birthday luxury, so I’ll eat pretty much anything.”

“Good to know. So I’ll see you tomorrow at six?”

“At six.”

Mikel hung up, torn about the dinner date. He wanted to see Brogan again, and little Peyton, too, who was precocious and as adorable as his omegin. But they’d be alone in the house. The last time he’d been alone with an omega, the omega got stabbed.

It was an accident. It was an accident. It was an accident!

He’d just stay away from all knives and sharp objects, no problem.

Mikel didn’t sleep much that night. If nothing else, his new issues with insomnia and nightmares were great for his reading habits. Novels, history books, biographies of the great alpha creators of their time. He’d never used his library card so much as since leaving in-patient therapy.

The next morning, he piled his read books into a canvas tote, wrapped up in his winter jacket, and made the ten-block walk to the nearest library branch. Taking the bus would have been warmer, but he liked the exercise of walking with a heavy bag on his shoulder. This branch was only open during the work week, and at standard nine-to-five hours, so it only employed two librarians: a young beta who always seemed afraid of Mikel, and an elderly omegin who was allowed to work by his mate once their children were all out of the house.

The omegin, Theon, was behind the front desk when Mikel walked in exactly at nine. He smiled. “You are a creature of habit, aren’t you, young man?” Theon asked.

“Routines keep me sane.” Familiar joke. Theon knew Mikel’s history from the papers, but he’d never treated Mikel like the enemy, or even someone who was dangerous.

“Good, good. Let me check those in while you browse.”

“Did you guys get anything new this week?”

“Yup, front table as always. There’s a new book in that omega detective series you enjoy, and I might have saved a copy for you.”

Mikel smiled. “You’re the best. I’ll be back in a while.”

“Take your time. You’re my best customer.”

Unsure what he was interested in this week, Mikel browsed the stacks. It was a smaller branch, but they frequently requested books from the main provincial branch if Mikel wanted something he couldn’t find. Today, he simply didn’t know. So many books, so many words, so many hours of day and night to fill with them.

He found himself in a small culinary arts section. It was a mix of cookbooks, food histories, and kitchen manuals. Daiya’s comment yesterday about Brogan being good enough to own a restaurant came back, so Mikel grabbed a book written by someone who owned several successful restaurants in Buckman Province.

He also selected two random cookbooks, because he’d never given much thought to how food was made. At home, it had been whatever Omegin made with what he had on hand. At university, he’d either grabbed cooked food from the cafeteria, or tossed a frozen meal into the microwave. Now? He ate when he remembered and whatever was handy. Brogan had opened his eyes to something new, and he wanted to explore it.

Spending two hours in the library was easy, especially on a cold, quiet morning, so it was after eleven before Mikel checked out with his new stack of books. The library had a fifteen-book lending limit, but Theon always let him sneak an extra volume or two.

“You seem more cheerful today,” Theon said as they slid the books into his tote. “You have a good weekend?”

“I think I did.” He didn’t want to drop the mating bond bomb yet, so he went with a version of the truth. “I made a new friend. Someone who understands what I’ve been through and isn’t afraid of me.”

“That’s wonderful! You need friends. You’re far too young to become a hermit.”

“Thanks. It’s been great having someone to talk to besides my therapist.”

“I can imagine it’s a relief. Therapists are paid to listen to us grouse, but friends put up with it for free. Is it another alpha?”

“Um, no. An omegin, actually.”

Theon’s eyebrows jumped. “Really? An old rag like me?”

“You’re hardly old, and no, he’s my age.”

“Your age and an omegin? What does his mate think of all this?”

Mikel blushed and looked down. “He’s single, and it’s complicated, and I’ve probably said too much. But he’s been kind to me, and I like having a friend.”

Theon gave him a hard, but still kind, look. “You be good to that boy and his child, you hear me? Or you’ll hear from me.”

“I will, I promise. I like him too much to scare him off.” And that was the truth. Mikel liked Brogan too much to push him away. He’d rather let Brogan get to know him and realize on his own that Mikel wasn’t worth the effort. “Take care, Theon.”

“You too, son.”

On the walk home, a just-opened pizza place beckoned him with the scent of pepperoni, so he got a slice to eat on the way. It got cold fast, but whatever. It tasted good, and he hadn’t eaten yet today.

I wonder what Brogan likes on his pizza.

Tonight was a good night to find out.

Brogan was a hot mess and so was the kitchen.

“I am so over-thinking this,” he said to Peyton, who was eating cut-up chicken and cooked carrots in his high chair.

Daiya and Yeoman had left for their date at four, giving Brogan plenty of time to prepare and cook dinner. He’d bought all the ingredients this afternoon, after fretting all morning about exactly what to make, and finally settling on homemade lasagna. And him being a perfectionist about details, decided to make the sauce from scratch—which he’d never done before. Hell, he’d been tempted to make the pasta from scratch, until he realized he needed specific equipment for that, and it wasn’t in his budget.

Tomato sauce—when brought to a boil and left unobserved so he could chase a diaper-less toddler around the house—made a horrible, splattering mess. And scorched on the bottom. He fixed the taste with extra sugar and Parmesan cheese, then set it aside to scrub down the stove and countertop.

The Li’s didn’t have a dishwasher, either, so by the time the lasagna was in a pan, properly assembled, and ready for the oven, the sink was overflowing with dirty dishes. So he worked on that while the lasagna heated and Peyton sort of giggled at his manic distress. He’d hoped to take a quick shower before Mikel showed up, but by the time the kitchen was sorted, he only had fifteen minutes left. With garlic bread not yet on a sheet tray, and a salad still to assemble, he washed his face with a clean cloth, then finished his work.

At five minutes to six, he took the lasagna out set and shoved the garlic bread inside to toast. Tossed the salad in dressing and put it on the dining table he’d had enough sense to set before he started cooking. The doorbell rang exactly at six. Brogan took off his apron, stuffed it under the kitchen sink, and went to answer the door.

Mikel stood on the stoop with a bottle in his hand, his dark eyes apprehensive. “Good evening.”

“Hi.” Brogan stepped aside so he could come in out of the cold.

“I brought a bottle of sparkling grape juice. It felt strange coming over empty-handed.”

“Thank you, that was thoughtful. Let me take your coat.”

The first few minutes were coated in a layer of silent awkwardness Brogan wasn’t sure how to battle. He freed Peyton from the highchair, and he immediately walked over to Mikel, who was hovering by the couch. The garlic bread was done, so he put it in a basket and added it to the table. Mikel squatted down to chat with Peyton in a very adorable way that made Brogan’s heart melt, while he poured them glasses of juice. Into wine glasses, just because.

Once everything, including the lasagna, was on the table, Brogan called for his guest. Mikel came over with a child on his trail, grinning at the spread. “This looks amazing,” Mikel said. “You did all this?”

“I did. I had to use a cookbook for the salad dressing, because I’ve never made a vinaigrette from scratch, but I think it tastes good. Everything is homemade except the pasta noodles and bread.”

“I am genuinely impressed.” Mikel pulled out one of the chairs. “Please, have a seat. You must be exhausted from all your work.”

“Thank you.” Brogan gave him extra gentleman points for helping Brogan sit first. Mikel circled the table to the opposite setting.

Mikel further impressed Brogan by taking over serving the food, which was usually the omega’s job at a formal meal. He cut near-perfect portions of lasagna—which was some kind of mystical magic!—added a slice of bread, and even a small pile of salad to Brogan’s plate, before serving himself.

Brogan waited until Mikel tasted the lasagna first, too eager to see his reaction to try it. Mikel’s lips closed around the tines of the fork. Then his eyelids fluttered as he pulled the fork back out. Chewed. “Oh wow, Brogan, this is amazing.” He quickly ate a second bite. “Can I ask what’s in it?”

“Scratch-made tomato sauce, mozzarella, Provolone, and sausage. I’ve made it a few times before, because Daiya loves it, but usually with jarred sauce and one cheese. I wanted to experiment today.”

“It paid off, it tastes great.”

Buoyed by the compliments, Brogan tasted it and damn! It really was good. No hint he’d almost burned the sauce. Just cheesy, basil-y goodness. They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, punctuated every now and then by Peyton’s nonsense. Since he’d eaten, he was busy playing near the couch.

“So, um, what did you do today?” Brogan asked. “You mentioned you aren’t working right now, so how do you spend your time?”

Mikel carefully chewed and swallowed a bite of salad. “I read a lot. And I mean a lot. The local librarian knows me by name and series preferences.”

“Do you have any particular favorites?”

“I don’t know, I just love books. Reading wasn’t encouraged in our home. Sire always said it was for the lazy and weak, and that alphas especially shouldn’t bother with it. But I’ve always loved words. I’m not a great student and I’d fail any test on a book I’d read, but it’s about the experience for me. Not memorizing it to spew back out later.”

Something about Mikel’s tone and broad smile when talking about books really spoke to Brogan, and it showed him a new side of the younger man. A deeper, richer side that enjoyed experiencing the stories and journeys of others, real or fiction. Most alphas had a very singular viewpoint: their own. Not Mikel.

“You’ll have to give me some recommendations to read,” Brogan said. “It’s been ages since I’ve been able to enjoy a whole book. Having a young child and keeping house isn’t conducive to reading for fun, so I usually give up halfway through and start another.”

Mikel’s eyebrows twitched. “I am curious about your arrangement here with the Li’s. Do you trade room and board for your services?”

“Oh, goddess, no. My living here was never contingent on my doing housework or cooking. I genuinely enjoy doing both, which not every omega does, so I began taking on those responsibilities. While as an omega, I have an ingrained need to care for and nurture others, housecleaning isn’t wholly an omega thing. Just a Brogan thing.”

“I’m glad. You’re a person, not a glorified housekeeper.”

“I’m also an orphan who’s grateful to the Li’s for letting me stay as long as I have. I’m the only omega from the fight ring who’s still in foster care, but they aren’t pushing me to leave. Peyton loves them, too.”

“Speaking of Peyton, I noticed a bruise on his forehead.” A tiny bit of alpha growl followed those words. The protective tone made Brogan silently cheer.

“He tripped and hit his head last night. He was more interested in chewing on the ice pack that holding it to his boo-boo, so…”

“Ah.”

“I was a clumsy child, too, always tripping, skinning my knees, or scraping my hands. I’m sure he’ll grow out of it like I did.”

“Good. I need you both safe.” Mikel ducked his head and shoved salad into his mouth.

Brogan’s heart fluttered.

I need you safe, too, my mate.

They ate in silence for a while longer, until Brogan was stuffed, and Mikel sat back in his chair, hands over his belly. “That’s the most food I’ve eaten in my life,” Mikel said. “It was really good, Brogan, honest.”

“Thank you. You can take leftovers home, if you like. There’s more than enough.”

“I’ll do that, thank you.”

“Good. I like knowing I can still feed you, even if I’m not there.”

Mikel smiled, so shy and uncertain Brogan wanted to circle the table and hug him. He stayed seated, though, and offered Mikel a warm, friendly smile of his own. Peyton chattered away, in his own little world, and Mikel’s gaze drifted to him and lingered there. “May I ask you a personal question?” Mikel said.

“Of course.”

He looked Brogan in the eyes, his own unsure. “Do you ever wonder who Peyton’s sire is?”

“Every single day.” Brogan briefly glanced behind him for a glimpse of his boy. “I don’t think about his creation so much anymore, but I do wonder. Even more so after that incident with Liam and Mancini.”

“Liam and Mancini?”

“You didn’t catch that story on the evening news?”

“Depends on when it happened.”

“Goddess, this was…a year and a half ago? The day Senior Haus Iverson’s trial was to begin.”

Mikel shook his head. “I was…indisposed much of that summer. I do recall an article about gunfire the day of jury selection. Two people were shot.”

“Yes.” Brogan ignored a flash of grief over his friend Reid’s choice to try and shoot Iverson on the courthouse steps, then goading a constable into shooting him to save the crowd. “Liam’s mate Isa Higgs was shot, we thought by the gunman, but it turns out that shot went wide, and Isa was shot by Hank Mancini. He was the alpha who impregnated Liam at the halfway house, and he’d tried to sue for custody of Liam and Layne, and he failed. So he tried to kidnap them both that night.”

“Holy shit, really?” Mikel’s entire body tensed. “But they’re both okay, right?”

“Physically, they’re fine. But it shook us all up, especially myself and Jaysan, because we don’t know who our sons’ sires are. We probably never will, but it’s hard not to wonder. To see a face on the street who reminds me of my boy and think, is that him?”

“Do you want to know?”

“No.” Brogan had answered that question for himself months ago. “I don’t want to know, and to be honest, I hope the asshole is dead. He assaulted me. For whatever reason, be it money or a sexual thrill, he used me during my heat, and I hate him for it. But I love Peyton to pieces, and all I want to do is give him the best life possible. To make sure my son grows up respecting the agency of other people, especially omegas.”

Mikel’s emotions seemed to flicker between anger and grief, judging by the small tics in Mikel’s face. His tells, which Brogan could already pick up on, as well as the way his earthy scent permeated the room, as if subtly telling anyone else Brogan was his. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you,” Mikel whispered.

Brogan’s heart lurched, and he didn’t stop himself from getting up and circling the table. Sitting in the chair next to Mikel’s and squeezing his arm. “You didn’t know I existed, and it was almost three years ago. You were a kid yourself, busy protecting your family. But you’re here now, and that means so much to me.”

“I’m scared I can’t protect you,” he said to the table.

“Hey.” Brogan took a chance and gently tilted Mikel’s head up, toward him. But those eyes wouldn’t look past his chin. “Please, look at me, alpha.” He did, and Brogan’s heart ached for the depth of pain in Mikel’s dark eyes. “I know it’s in an alpha’s nature to protect, especially to protect his bondmate, but you don’t have to do all the protecting. How about we work on protecting each other? As partners?”

Mikel blinked hard several times, leaving his thick eyelashes wet with unshed tears. “You shouldn’t have to protect me.”

“Maybe I want to. Growing up, I had a loving, nurturing home, and I’d love to recreate that with you and Peyton. I’ve said it before, but we can take our time getting there. Set our own pace. Do what’s right for us, because this is our relationship. Our mating bond.” This close, Brogan was drowning in Mikel’s scent. “Let your omega protect you.”

With a soft cry, Mikel pulled Brogan onto his lap and into his arms. Thin arms that wrapped around his waist and held tight. Brogan looped his own arms around Mikel’s shoulders and pressed his nose into his alpha’s neck. Inhaled that addictive, earthy scent. They sat like that for a long time, simply existing together. Mikel occasionally trembled, but his breathing remained steady, strong.

“Omi! Want juice.”

The little voice broke them apart. Peyton stood by the chair, gazing up at them with an expectant look. “Kids,” Brogan said.

Mikel chuckled. “Always interrupting things?”

“Basically.” He pressed his forehead to Mikel’s briefly, then got up to fetch Peyton’s sippy cup from the fridge. When he turned around, Peyton was seated on Mikel’s lap and eating a slice of tomato from the salad bowl.

“Is this okay?” Mikel asked.

“Of course. I’m glad he likes you.” Brogan put the cup on the table so Peyton could reach it when he was done eating, then sat in the chair next to them. “Can I ask you something personal?”

“I guess.”

“When I mentioned the summer before last, you said you were indisposed for most of it. What did you mean? Were you sick?”

Mikel swallowed hard several times, his attention on Peyton, and after a long moment of silence, Brogan regretted asking at all. This wasn’t going to be a happy answer.

“My sire had several different ways of punishing us when we displeased him,” Mikel finally said. “I told you I was never a great student, and when I graduated that spring from secondary school, not only did I not place in the top ten percent of my class, I didn’t place in the top half of students. Sire was furious.” The way Mikel whispered those final three words sent a bolt of terror down Brogan’s spine.

“I’m sorry,” Brogan said. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s okay.” He put Peyton down with the sippy cup, and Peyton happily wandered into the living room with it. Mikel swiveled in his chair to fully face Brogan, but once again spoke to Brogan’s chest. “He had a wooden box in the basement, the size of a grown man. Tall and narrow. All wood, hard, dark. Only a few holes in the sides for air.”

Brogan’s gut twisted up tight.

“My punishment for my academic failure was eight hours a day in that box. No food. No exercise. The unfinished wood stank of old bathroom accidents from previous punishments. I was also on TV restriction, so I had little idea of the news that summer, only what I overheard my parents discuss.”

“The entire summer?”

“Most of it.”

“Goddess, Mikel.” Anger overtook some of Brogan’s horror. “I can’t believe that. I am so sorry.”

“The box and the restraints in the basement were what sealed the case against him, helped get the alphahole locked up. But I still hate the dark.”

His voice broke, and Brogan went to him again. Hugged him hard, wishing he could take some of his alpha’s pain away. Steal the memories of long hours alone in the dark, unable to move, unsure when he’d be freed. If he’d be freed. Mikel was alone and suffering, while Brogan was free and with his friends. Mikel clung to him, his chest heaving, and soon a damp spot on Brogan’s shirt appeared. Brogan simply held him harder while Mikel worked through his emotions, grateful to be here. Grateful to be able to support his alpha through this crisis.

“I’ve got you,” Brogan whispered. “You’re not alone anymore, I promise.”

I promise, my alpha.