Page 52 of The Feral Alpha

Rex. This was Rex.

“Why do you have his face?” Olson choked. “He’s dead!”

Rex tilted his head. His confusion looked exactly like George’s, too. And Olson didn’t know how to deal with this. How to deal with an alpha who wore George’s face. George’s scent.

He broke down, pulling a pillow over his head and sobbing. “He’s dead!”

Rex pressed close, wrapping his arms around Olson, hugging him close. “Olllsonnnn. Protect.”

Why did he have to treasure Olson this much, too?

Rex peeled the pillow off Olson’s face, kissing the tears off his cheeks. He nuzzled Olson and held him, and it was different enough from George’s excitable nature that Olson held on to that.

He closed his eyes. Now that he wasn’t looking, he could believe that it was Rex on top of him. That made it easier to think.

Olson fumbled under the pillows and found his phone, peeking out to make a call.

Varrick picked up immediately. “I’m heading out to work.”

“C-can you come over? For a bit.” Olson’s voice was hoarse.

Varrick’s tone sharpened. “What’s wrong?”

“You’ll know when you get here.”

“Fuck.”

Olson ended the call. He and Varrick were close. They were born a few years apart, but Varrick had always been protective of him.

He set down the phone, squeezing his eyes shut. “Hey. Rex. Put on some clothes. My brother’s coming over soon.”

Rex made a soft, questioning sound, nuzzling Olson’s chest with his now-smooth face. Then he peeled himself off, and fabric rustled.

Something light fell on Olson’s body. When Olson closed his hands around it, he realized it was clothes. For him.

“Olson clothes,” Rex rumbled.

Even now, he was still trying to help. Olson gave a wobbly smile, sitting up in bed. He turned his back to Rex and pulled on the clothes—from last night, but he wasn’t too picky right now.

Careful fingers touched his shoulder.

Olson breathed out. It wasn’t Rex’s fault that things had gotten so messed up. He thought about going into the living room to meet Varrick, but his legs still felt boneless.

So he closed his eyes and turned to face the bedroom door, patting the bed behind him. “Sit here.”

Rex prowled onto the bed. Instead of keeping any distance, he sat with Olson between his legs, his chest pressed against Olson’s back, his arms wrapped snug around Olson’s waist.

“Mine,” Rex whispered, nuzzling his ear.

Olson breathed in, and breathed out.

The front door opened some time later. “Olson?” Varrick called.

“Bedroom,” Olson said.

Two sets of footsteps hurried through the apartment. Varrick appeared in the doorway, followed by Emmy, who had Hunter strapped to his chest.

“What’s wr—”

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