Chapter 7

Marcus was floating. He was drifting in quiet and darkness, and felt safer than he could imagine being in awhile – there was a scent wrapped around him, one that made him content and made him smile. It was a smell of protection, one that any Werewolf, but especially an Omega, learned to associate with safety: an Alpha’s scent. There was always a bit of his Alpha’s scent clinging to his clothes and skin, from John doing the laundry at his wife’s behest, or from one-armed hugs to paternal pats on the back. So even when Marcus was off on his own getting groceries or just taking a walk, the scent was there as a reminder of the place he belonged.

Of the place he had belonged.

This Alpha he was scenting wasn’t John.

Peace shattered like glass beneath a falling rock, Marcus woke up to reality all around him. He remembered his past haunting him like over-eager ghosts. He remembered his body starting