Vegan-licious Omega

Evernight
Publishing ®

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2014 Angelique
Voisen

 
ISBN: 978-1-77233-034-2

Cover
Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Editor:
JS
Cook

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING:
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is
illegal.
 
No part of this book may be
used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission,
except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a
work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or
dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To Anna, who taught me vegetables don’t bite.

VEGAN-
LICIOUS
OMEGA

Wolves of
New Haven, 2

Angelique
Voisen

Copyright © 2014

Chapter One

The lone box of Tofurky burger
patties sat innocently in the freezer section of New Haven’s only grocery. The
two men at the end of the aisle eyed the box and then each other
distrustfully
. Feeling aggressive and cranky from having
nothing in his stomach for days, Ricky Starr seized his competitor up.

Ricky was surprised to see a
rippling wall of muscle clad in a red flannel shirt and the most intense pair
of blue eyes he’d ever come across. Ricky’s heart abruptly caught in his
throat. Buried deep inside of him, the ears of his metaphysical wolf suddenly
perked up and woke from its slumber. Never before had Ricky and his wolf
reacted so strongly to anyone and it overwhelmed him and nearly staggered him.

The mock burger patties were
forgotten, and so was his hungry stomach. Even reason fled him. Why he was in a
dinky little town in the middle of nowhere in the first place eluded him.
Physical hunger was replaced by something else, a hunger of a much different
sort. It was the kind of hunger that dug its hooks into him and refused to
easily let go.

Ricky was suddenly overcome by the
need to walk up to the unknown stranger, rip his flannel shirt apart and send
his buttons flying. Then he’d run his hands all over the firm and hard lines of
the stranger’s chest, stomach, and abdomen. What would it be like, to close his
hot mouth over one nipple as the stranger fisted his hand roughly into his
hair, and to feel the hard press of his jeans grinding against him?

“Oh fuck,” Ricky whispered,
realizing the only reason why he was reacting like this.

The hairs on his back prickled and
a chill ran down his spine.
How can I be
such a careless idiot? This man’s a werewolf and a powerful one. What’s worse
is the way I’m reacting to him.
A potential mate, his wolf agreed and Ricky
told it to shut its damn muzzle. The beast obeyed, but continued to watch the
man with ill-concealed interest.

The man candy opposite him frowned
and the same realization flittered across his features.
Gods, he’s gorgeous even when he’s frowning.
All of Ricky’s danger
signals began to ping loudly in his head.

Being born an Omega werewolf had its
share of handicaps, especially if one carried the Starr family name. The Starr
Mountain pack was the most powerful and influential pack in the Quad Cities,
but an Omega was still the lowest position in any wolf pack. To survive, Ricky
had been everyone’s whipping boy, their punching bag, and a submissive any
dominant wolf could take advantage of. It also didn’t help he was a vegan, and
everyone knew a real wolf ate meat.

The only advantage he had was being
weak. Being weak, he could’ve hid his aura and presence from the wolves of New
Haven. The wolves of New Haven were known to be territorial and aggressive.
They’d rip apart any newcomer apart without hesitation, which was why the Alpha
of the Starr Mountain pack sent him. That didn’t imply the Alpha trusted him,
it only meant he was disposable. The realization still left him shaken, but
Ricky was a survivor, or he’d like to think he was.

That confidence began to waver with
each threatening step the stranger took towards him. Ricky could almost see the
visible lines of anger and power rippling across the other man’s body. Ricky
gulped, taking a step back. His stomach grumbled again.

Damn it all.

Ricky was sick of always being
weak. Tireless days spent driving did little to improve his mood. All the diners
he’d stop by had no decent vegan offerings on their menus, and he’d had to
content himself with bowls of garden salad. He was just not going to die with
an empty stomach. He was going to die being chased down by a gorgeous man
candy,
who
also happened to eat Tofurky.

In
much more pleasant circumstances, he sounds just like my kind of guy.
 

“Where did you
come from, little wolf?
Why haven’t I noticed you until now?” the man
demanded.

Ricky shivered as he came closer
and closer. By the Gods, he had a wonderfully deep and smooth voice to match
the impressive girth of him. A ruggedly handsome face, broad shoulders, a chest
tapering to a slim waist and jeans that fit him like a second skin. Ricky bet
he had a nice ass to match those jeans too. He looked so good to eat, yet Ricky
had a suspicion he would be the only one about to be chewed.

Ricky backed away by instinct.

“Don’t be afraid, little Omega. I
won’t hurt you.
Yet.”
A smile curved on the stranger’s
lips.

Ricky wasn’t sure if it was meant
to be devious or malicious. Probably both, but Ricky couldn’t chance it. It was
now or never. He had to move and break the stalemate.

“Screw you,” Ricky whispered and
bolted. Not backwards, but forwards.

A look of surprise crossed the
dominant wolf’s features, but Ricky wasn’t foolish enough to face a wolf that
powerful head-on. He swiped the last box of Tofurky and began to backtrack to
the cashier. He’d done much worse things to survive before, and stealing the
last box of Tofurky under the nose of a frighteningly gorgeous wolf out for his
blood wasn’t the worst of them.

“Come back here, little wolf. We’re
not done talking.”

Ricky could spend hours listening
to the man talk with that voice of his. On his way to the exit, he purposely
toppled over a display of chips, satisfied to hear the other man behind him
curse. All he had to do was pay for his dinner, run a good distance to cloak
his presence, and the dominant wolf wouldn’t be able to sense him.
Easy peasy.
I can still prove to the Alpha and the
other wolves of the Starr Mountain Pack that I’m worth something.

Too bad fate wasn’t letting him
off. His eyes bulged at the sight of the long queue ahead. Only one cashier was
open and a gaggle of old ladies pushed their trolleys indolently by, while
chatting amicably with each other. Hearing an impatient growl behind him, Ricky
decided to bypass the queue.

Screw it. It was just one box of
mock meat patties.

“Donnie, what’s up?” a voice called
from the queue.

“Derrick, unwanted visitor in
town!” hollered the familiar voice of the man chasing him.

Derrick?
Derrick Starr, the wayward prodigal Beta I’m supposed to be convincing to head
back with me?
Ricky craned his head for a second only to see another
monstrous bulk of a man in a faded pair of jeans and a denim jacket standing
with a handsome dark-haired slender man. The Alpha told him to look out for a
grossly overweight man who waddled rather than walked, but the wall of meat
studying him with apparent curiosity was made of pure muscle.
Shit. I can’t take a powerful Beta like
that.

What was it with all the wolves in
New Haven? Were they all gorgeous, buff and lethal looking?

Unlike how the media portrayed
werewolves, real werewolves weren’t invincible. They had to work hard to keep
in shape and were prone to health diseases like any normal humans, such
as
 
diabetes
or heart
attacks.

“Need some help?” called Derrick.

“No. I can handle this Omega. The
little wolf is mine.
So stay out of it Starr.”
Donnie’s words were followed by a thin growl.

“Sure.
Happy
hunting, Don.”

The
little wolf is mine.
Ricky shivered at the way the dominant wolf said those
words. They almost sounded dangerously possessive to him. The words briefly
summoned ill memories for Ricky. Recollections of being forcefully held down by
rough and brutal hands, tied face down on the table while everyone had a go at
him. On one hand, he was fine with being the pack’s designated punching bag,
because he knew he’d be treated the same way in any wolf pack all across the
Quad Cities. Being the pack’s submissive whore on the other hand, to be used
and abused by any dominant wolf, was the worse.

By pack laws, a submissive wolf
could flock to his protector, a more dominant wolf. But if his protector had no
interest in protecting him then all bets were off, which was why Ricky agreed
to a mission that could land him dead in the first place. He’d agree to any
option, as long as it meant being away from Clive’s tight leash.

Self-preservation won over duty.
With his heart painfully hammering against his chest, Ricky pressed the frozen
box to his chest and sprinted out the doors.
But little wolf, really?
If he was a dominant wolf, he’d make sure
Don wouldn’t call him that again. Too bad, Ricky was what he was. A sob of
relief caught in his throat when he spotted the bus arriving at its stop. Just
a few more steps and he’d be safe. Just a little bit more—