Golden Valley (Pack 3)

Not missing a beat, Morgan responded, “It’s a soft cotton fabric. Totally breathable.”

Enjoying joking around with his mate, Ricky relaxed for what felt like the only time in days. Maybe the only time in months. He hadn’t had a moment of peace since the night he had left Golden Valley. The night he had left Morgan. He dropped his head onto Morgan’s chest and sighed contentedly.

“My parents will like you.”

“I’ll make sure of it. Nothing matters more than family.” Tender fingers caressed his nape. “Did it bother you?” Morgan asked, the playfulness leaving his tone. “Their protectiveness?”

“It did at the time, but…” Ricky reflected on his stay at Blue Mountain and his conversations with Simon. “It won’t with you.”

“No?”

He moved his head from side to side. “Maybe it’s because I got used to it or maybe it’s because I’m older now, but mostly I think it’s because it feels right. I’m an Omega. You’re my Alpha.” He tipped his head up and met Morgan’s gaze. “I know the way I’ve acted so far—running away and hiding from my Alpha—makes it seem like I don’t like being an Omega, but I do.”

Simon was a nice enough guy, but Ricky wasn’t like him and he didn’t want to be. He wasn’t angry at or afraid of Alphas and he didn’t need to prove himself to be equal to them in strength. A relationship wasn’t a competition, it was a partnership. He hadn’t been a good partner to Morgan so far, but he was committed to changing that.

“I’m grateful you looked for me when I left, but I shouldn’t have made you chase me like that. It was wrong and I promise it won’t happen again.” Wanting to bring back some lightness to the conversation, he added, “Even if you get busy and forget to tie me down with that cotton wrap.”

Morgan snorted and wove his fingers through Ricky’s hair. “I’ll keep the knots loose.” He kissed the top of Ricky’s head and then searched his face. “All joking aside, protecting you is one thing—I’ll always do that, I can’t not do that—but this isn’t a prison. Omega or not, every shifter in Golden Valley is here by choice. That includes you.”

Remembering the flattering, almost worshipful way Ray Lopez had described Morgan, Ricky realized that what Brian had told him about the Golden Valley pack—that their ability to prosper after the fire that took Morgan’s family was a testament to their unity as a pack—wasn’t precisely accurate. The survival and success of this pack was a testament to their Alpha.

Morgan was the reason Golden Valley thrived.

Morgan was less stringent than Paul Parson, who had led Purple Sky when Ricky was a kid. That Alpha never would have abided by an Omega questioning him. If Ricky had run from Paul, he doubted the man would have debased himself enough to follow, and even if he had, it would have been to conquer him with enough force to show him his place.

Morgan was less rigid than Wesley Stone, who Ricky had expected to take over Purple Sky when Paul stepped down. Though he was smart and strong, Wesley seemed to follow an unwritten checklist of what he deemed to be a perfect Alpha and he never deviated from it. Ricky had talked to Wesley a few times since he had joined the Red River pack and the man sounded happier and more relaxed, but in the old days, Wesley had been too rigid to understand a break from convention. And an Omega leaving his Alpha was most definitely unconventional.

Morgan was less lighthearted than Brian Berger, who had strolled into Purple Sky as their new Alpha with all the confidence of a man who didn’t doubt his place or his destiny and couldn’t conceive of anything getting in the way of either. From what Brian said about his birth pack, Red River was tight knit, the shifters prosperous, and the Alphas beloved. Despite being older than Morgan in years, Brian hadn’t lived through devastating loss and nearly insurmountable pressure; he wasn’t burdened by Morgan’s life experiences, but neither did he have Morgan’s perspective and perseverance.

Morgan was less intimidating than Mitchell Grant, whose size alone made people around him cower. Though Ricky had spent most of his time in Blue Mountain alone in his room, he had overheard enough to realize that Mitchell was a man of few words and fewer smiles. There was no way he could miss the hesitancy and fear of the shifters in his pack, yet he wasn’t inclined to change that. He was nothing like Morgan whose human form was welcoming, whose demeanor was friendly, and who had changed everything in his life so his pack would feel comfortable and secure.

“You’re a great Alpha,” Ricky said, snuggling deeper into Morgan’s side. “I’m glad you’re my mate.”