Chapter One: Damon

I t had all started in a run-down bar in the middle of nowhere, Texas.

"Well, now, what's a pretty young thing like you doin' in a place like this?"

The voice drawling the question sounded just as sleazy as the pickup line itself. I hung my head over my margarita glass for a moment before I sighed and turned to face the owner of the voice.

To be fair, he wasn't quite as gross as his voice had led me to believe he'd be. Yeah, his dirty blonde hair looked like it was slicked back with way too much product, and yeah, his teeth were yellowed and crooked, but he had an otherwise pleasant enough face. Still, he'd already rubbed me the wrong way and I wasn't interested.

"Sorry," I told him, my voice pitching high as I raised it above the general din of the bar I'd found myself sitting in, "I don't speak English."

He stood baffled for a moment, his jaw slack and eyes squinting with confusion. "But…"

"Really sorry," I repeated, gesturing for him to move along.

Laughter, rich and deep, came from my right as the spare stool beside me was suddenly pulled back and occupied.

"That's a new one," my new companion said with a smile in his voice, his thick forearm reaching out in my peripheral vision, summoning the bartender with a ‘come hither' gesture formed by two thick, masculine fingers.

Who knew fingers could be masculine? I sure hadn't until then.

Taking another swallow of my out-of-place drink, I turned to give the newcomer my attention.

Holy fuck.

To say the guy was easy on the eyes would be like saying the Grand Canyon was an interesting little hole in the ground.

He was big and broad. Not gym muscled, but his biceps and forearms looked like he was no stranger to manual labor. His skin was a deep golden color, and his hair looked to be sun-bleached in artful streaks through light brown waves. I couldn't see his jaw beneath a well-kept, thick beard in similar shades to his hair, but it was the blue of his eyes that really caught my attention, bright and sparkling with mirth. And when he smiled they crinkled at the corners, helping to cement the deep laughter lines that made him seem so warm and friendly.

I startled as I felt my body react to his proximity, with slick threatening to dampen the seat of my dark jeans. And that was to say nothing of my dick suddenly standing to attention within its confines, either. I was surprised by how rapidly my arousal hit me, and how intensely. That had never happened before. I guessed I was hornier than I'd first thought .

"I'm gonna have to remember that line," he said once he'd ordered his beer, adding, "not speaking English?" for clarification when I blinked blankly back at him.

I felt heat rise to my cheeks and I dipped my chin. "It was kind of an asshole move, I know. But guys like that take ‘I'm not interested' as a challenge."

He nodded and raised his bottle to his lips. "Men like that do tend to think with their dicks. And, really, ‘I don't speak English' is still much more polite than ‘fuck off', right?"

Was he flirting with me? We weren't in a gay bar (I'd checked, because I would have been way more comfortable visiting one of those), so what was the likelihood two men had set their sights on me in a sexual way? I knew my presence screamed twink, both in build and mannerisms, but this was still Texas, and I was trying to keep a low profile. I wore jeans and a plaid shirt, and I'd done my best to fit in with the crowd.

My pack would kill me if they knew I'd sneaked away just to blow off steam. Sadly, out in the middle of this small town, there weren't a lot of places a flamboyant omega like me could scratch the kinds of itches I had. I'd been prepared to settle on a few drinks and time away from the pack, but now my body had taken notice of the guy to my right and I was suddenly very aware of my needs.

As I chuckled and agreed with him, I took in his scent. Clean sweat, sunshine, grass, and a hint of faded cologne ignited a fire inside me. I clenched my ass as a wave of desire hit me hard and fast. When was the last time I'd reacted like that to someone so quickly? I didn't think I ever had.

"What's your name, kid?" he asked, gesturing to the bartender to bring us both another round.

I swallowed roughly, not bothering to correct him on my age. At barely twenty-five, I was probably at least a decade his junior.

Did I mention that older men did it for me? Well, they did. And even though late thirties/early forties wasn't that old, it was good enough for me.

"Damon," I told him, offering him my hand. "Damon Richards. And you are?"

Beneath that lush beard which glinted with gold and hints of amber, his wind-chapped lips pulled into a genuine smile as he took my hand. His palm and the pads of his fingers were calloused. The feeling sent tingles of electricity up my arm. "Rex," he introduced himself. "Rex Murphy. It's nice to meet you, Damon."

The way he curled his deep, Texan drawl around my name made my stomach flip and my cock twitch. I swore that my skin burned with the flush of arousal he ignited.

"Just so you know," I said, picking up the glass the bartender set in front of me, "for you? I'll speak any language you want."

Rex threw his head back as he laughed and I knew that, without a doubt, I'd be getting my itches scratched after all….which was a damn good thing, because I was hornier than I had ever been before.