Page 58 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys

Each small affection a cherished habit.

I had to believe we’d find our Omega. I had to believe there’d never come a day when our baser Alpha natures would tear us apart. When we finally found the right sixth person, it would go the way it had with Boone. They’d slip into the cracks and crevices naturally, like they’d always been there in the first place.

Damn, I wish Boone was here too right now. I wanted to hold them both.

“Where’s Boone?” I asked after ending the kiss.

“Take a wild guess.” Levi shrugged.

15

BOONE

A week ago...

[Almost present day]

Sagebrush Ranch

The ranch appeared on the horizon, shimmering slightly in the late afternoon heat as I trudged the last quarter mile. It might as well be a mirage. Might as well not be real.

A week alone in the wilderness had settled something in me, but not everything. My boots scuffed against the ground, walking the same way as normal where I’d nearly worn the grass down to dirt. Dry soil kicked up in small clouds that clung to my already filthy jeans. I'd missed the comforts of home, sure, but part of me had wanted to keep walking, to disappear into the easy-to-understand wild and never look back. That urge to run, to leave, it never quite left me these days.

Sagebrush Ranch looked peaceful from this distance. Seventy acres of western paradise, spread out like a painting with the mountains rising behind it. Over the roof of the shorter, older rambler, the new house peeked out. Sunlight glintedoff its tall window. We’d asked the architect to maximize the views, and they’d delivered. Eight days ago, I’d stood inside the house at those windows while some guys were installing the butcherblock countertops. From there, Sagebrush somehow looked surreal. Too beautiful. Too new. The life I shared with my pack seen through a brand-new lens. I was grateful for this place, and for the love that had fallen into my lap by sheer chance in college.

Yet, I wanted to turn back around.

Wasn’t ready to be back.

I still felt the restlessness in my blood, the razor-edge of my thoughts. Like a knife that had been sharpened too many times, I was all cutting edge with no safe place to grip. Everything I touched these days seemed to bleed. Not literally, I wasn't that far gone. But my mood, my words, my silences—they cut just the same. It’s why I kept leaving. I wouldn’t let the men I loved become collateral damage.

My mind drifted back to last night, sitting beside my small campfire while the stars wheeled overhead…

The warmth from the flames kissed my face while my back chilled against the evening air. No matter the season, Wyoming took on an icy edge at night. I was cooking rattlesnake—my second of the trip—and the meat had just begun to curl away from the bone. Content. Peaceful. That’s how I felt.

Then I sensed something watching me, tucked away just beyond the firelight.

I waited. Nothing out here could hurt me as badly as people could.

The bear had emerged from the shadows, its massive shoulders rolling as he approached. Its nostrils flared to catch my scent along with the aroma of cooking meat. Not a grizzly, thankfully, but a black bear big enough to make trouble if he wanted.

We locked eyes across the fire. His were amber, intelligent and curious. Mine probably looked pitch dark and appraising. He seemed to hesitate, ears flicking forward then back again.

"Evening," I'd said softly, not moving from my spot. "Not sure you want what I'm having."

The bear cocked its head the way Tater and Tripp did when they were trying to understand my words, then settled onto his haunches. It watched me steadily, without threat. So, I kept talking, kept cooking.

“Live near here?” I asked, reaching forward to pick off a piece of charred snake meat. “You got a nice place.”

The bear gave a low grunt, then lowered its hulking body to the ground and closed its eyes.

Most people would be terrified. But that’s because most people wrongly believe wild creatures are more dangerous than humans. For me, there was something soothing about having the bear for a companion. He was just trying to survive as his habitat shrank against the infringement of a modern world.

Cooper used to joke I had some magic powers when it came to wild creatures, especially predators. But it wasn’t some mystical connection to nature because of my Arapaho ancestry. It was just basic respect, an understanding that me and the bear were both part of something bigger. This was the simple honesty of survival and coexistence. No complications, no expectations.

No growing Alpha madness that threatened to consume me and my brothers.

I shook off the memory, because if I didn’t, I really would turn around and disappear for another week.