Page 25 of Lost Wolf (Exiled Omegas #2)
Twenty-Five
Luke
The Rockcastle pack’s dinner table couldn’t be more different from the cozy, comfortable atmosphere in Madison. The entire meal feels like a production of a sort, Earl playing the part of benevolent host while practically snarling at every servant—there’s really nothing else to call them, they aren’t treated like pack members at all—who enters the room.
He reminds me a lot of Randall in that way.
Not that Sweet Water pack has ever had enough money to pay servants—that is, if these ones are even paid at all—but Randall definitely looked down on anyone who didn’t cater to his ego or wasn’t in his little social circle.
Which wasn’t actually very large considering what an asshole he was. Another thing Randall and Earl have in common.
Earl spent the entire time the two of us were alone trying to convince me to stick around and take my place as his heir. I told him in no uncertain terms that wasn’t an option for me, but considering he not-so-subtly threatened to keep Ollie here if I refused, I’m not so sure he’s willing to accept that.
Whatever. It doesn’t matter what he says anyway. The triumvirate is coming for him. All I need to do is humor him for a while longer.
“So, Luke, why don’t you tell us a little about your pack?” asks Wanda. “It’s in Alabama, right?”
I force a smile and give a brief overview of the Sweet Water pack and how I run it, listing all the changes I’ve made since taking Randall’s place as Alpha.
“It sounds like you landed on your feet, then,” says Wanda as if proving a point.
“I guess,” I say, slightly confused.
She nods to herself, flicks a glance at Clay, then returns her attention to her plate.
Earl snorts. “Personally, I’ve found the most effective way to run a pack is treating it as more of a—what do you call it?— feudal society. In exchange for land and homes, the pack works for me, the betas taking care of cleaning, farming, cooking, and all that with some help from the omegas who are…”—he gestures in Ollie’s direction— “well, I’m sure you know what they’re good for.”
A strained silence falls for a few seconds before Wanda says, “I think my mate simply means that the entire pack chips in to keep things running around here.”
Somehow, I doubt the “entire pack” she’s referring to includes her or Earl.
Earl nods, shooting his mate an almost approving look. “That’s right. Over five hundred acres managed by a pack of a little over a hundred.”
“And you have multiple omegas in your pack?” asks Macy, cocking her head to the side. “I thought they’re rare.”
“A few of them pop up in every generation,” says Wanda. She pauses as if thinking. “I believe right now we have three total, four now with Oliver back.”
“I didn’t see any other houses,” says Ollie from beside me. “Where does the rest of the pack live?”
Earl spares him a brief glance. “Each family is provided with a cabin, but those are farther out so they don’t disrupt my view.”
“I see.” I cough into my elbow to hide my laugh. It somehow doesn’t surprise me that Earl doesn’t like having to see the likely small and dilapidated houses of his underlings.
Each course is brought out separately, so the meal drags on and every time a server approaches the table, Ollie goes tense. The third time it happens, I stare at the young man who just filled Ollie’s glass, trying to figure out what’s upset my mate.
Does Ollie recognize him? Or it is something else?
Ollie glances at me, then rubs his hand over the front of his neck and looks back to the server. My gaze catches on the metal band around the young man’s neck that I’d thought was some kind of jewelry earlier.
Macy catches the direction of my gaze and she frowns. “What’s with the collars?”
Earl glares at the server as he leaves the room. “Those are for when one of the members of my pack has trouble… accepting their role.”
“So, the collar is some kind of punishment?” asks Macy.
“More of a way to correct behavior,” says Wanda with thin smile. “After a few ye—months in one of our collars, they learn their place. It’s for their own good.”
My stomach roils with disgust and I fight to keep it off my face. Ollie doesn’t manage to hide his reaction, going pale and staring down at his plate like he’s about to puke. I place my hand on his thigh, squeezing gently in an attempt to reassure him.
The conversation kind of dies after that, but the food and the wine keep coming. By the time the desert comes out, I’m beginning to feel a little dizzy.
Which is weird. It takes a lot of alcohol to get a shifter drunk and even with my wine glass being constantly refilled, I don’t think I’ve had that much.
On the other side of the table, Macy coughs, then gives her head a brisk shake as if trying to rouse herself. Is she feeling the effects of the wine too?
“What, uh, vintage is this?” I ask pointing at the wine glass.
“It’s a special blend we import from a pack in California. They send us over a case or two every batch.” She continues, giving a long-winded spiel about soil and weather and how everything works together to give a wine a specific flavor.
I nod along, taking a small sip and pretending I can taste the “notes of blackberry” and “the subtlety of the tannins” when I really only taste the slightly fruity bite of alcohol I associate with all wines. Wine is one of those acquired tastes I haven’t ever managed to acquire.
Beside me, Ollie picks at his food and lets out a big yawn, his cheeks going pink at the action. It’s been a long day with a lot of excitement, but it still seems a little early for him to be so sleepy.
What the hell is going on?
Even Earl is looking a little bleary-eyed. In contrast, Wanda and Clay both seem just as alert as when we all sat down.
“What do you think of Rockcastle?” asks Wanda, blinking at me.
“We’re not staying,” I blurt out, my tongue strangely loose.
“Oh no, I would never ask that of you,” says Wanda, hand on her chest. “I was just imagining what it might have been like if you’d grown up here.”
I give her an awkward shrug, unsure what to say to that. If I’d grown up here, I might have turned out a total jackass like Earl and that doesn’t sound appealing to me at all. As nice as it might have been to have the kind of luxuries the Rockcastle Alpha has, money isn’t worth my soul.
And neither is power.
I saw enough of what power does to people in Sweet Water—and what money does to people in Chicago. Rossi, the former Chicago Alpha was a monster in a business suit who participated in a shifter trafficking ring even though his pack was already wealthy and prosperous.
Speaking of money …
“How the hell does your pack afford to keep this place running?” I ask, the question barreling past my lips without thought. I cough and give my head a brisk shake. “Sorry… I, uh, apologize for my rudeness.”
“No worries,” says Wanda, waving her hand dismissively. “That’s something many people are curious about.” She turns to Clay and starts talking to him about the latest pumpkin crop.
As much as I didn’t really mean to ask that question, I can’t help but notice that she very much avoided answering it—and not exactly subtly.
Movement from the corner of my eye catches my attention, and I turn to my mate just as he slumps to the side, his head landing on my shoulder. I barely have time to process the fact that Ollie seems to be fast asleep before Earl faceplants onto the table with a loud bang.
“Finally,” says Wanda. “I was beginning to think he’d never go down.” She turns to me. “How are you feeling, Jonathan?”
“That’s not… not… my name,” I stutter, the words feeling sticky in my mouth.
“That’s okay,” she replies. “You won’t need a name where you’re going.”
“Luke…” Macy pushes to her feet and stumbles to the side a few steps before crumpling to the ground.
I try to get up, but it’s too late. Whatever I was drugged with keeps me in my chair, slowly dragging me into unconsciousness. As the edges of my vision go black, I hear Wanda say, “I’ll get him shifted and secured for transport while you deal with Oliver and the beta.”