That wasn’t right.
His chest tight, he turned down that street, did a U-turn, and pulled up behind the abandoned bag of buns. A distinct honey oak scent lingered around them. Then there came the sounds of some muffled swearing, someone groaning.
Where was Ulric?
His heart pounding, Gage followed the sounds to an alley, where two figures were kicking at someone on the ground—they were all alphas, from their broad shoulders. Except the one on the ground was heavier, all curled-up like he was hurting, and—Gage recognized him. Only too well.
They were beating up his alpha.
Gage’s stomach clenched. Then rage exploded in his gut, blazing and ferocious. He roared, charging them down, punching the closest one in the face. The other guy had blood dripping from his nose and a knife in his hand. Before he could slash at Gage, Gage grabbed his wrist, yanking his knife away. Then he punched the man in the gut, he slammed him against the wall, cracking his skull against the brick.
He wasn’t about to stop, but the man’s accomplice swung another knife at him. Gage barely dodged; the knife whistled inches away from his face. And Gage grabbed him, he punched that guy hard, vicious strikes that would hurt for days to come.
He would’ve beaten the crap out of them both, except Ulric groaned. And he was far more important than the bastards who had attacked him.
Gage shoved them toward the street. “Get out of here,” he snarled, placing himself between them and Ulric. “Or I’ll fucking kill you.”
They bristled, sizing him up. But they must’ve realized he was serious, because they ran, hurling something at him.
It hit him in the chest—a wallet? They’d stabbed Ulric over that?
Gage took the wallet and hurried back. Ulric had wrapped one arm over his head, the other pressed against his side. Ulric flinched when Gage touched him; Gage swallowed his anger, gathering Ulric into his arms. “Hey. Where’re you hurt?”
Ulric groaned. “Everywhere.”
Then he looked up and met Gage’s eyes. Ulric tensed, sucking in a sharp breath.
There were scuff marks all over him. He looked like he’d put on weight. Ulric moved his hand back over a dark spot on his side, pressing down on it—and Gage realized that the dark patch on his shirt was blood. It wasn’t just a small stain, either. There was a lot of it. It was still leaking out.
Gage’s blood grew cold. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s just a small wound,” Ulric muttered, but his breathing was pained and shallow, and he’d clenched his jaw.
How deep was that wound? That knife hadn’t been clean at all, had it? Gage froze, his thoughts spiraling. “We need to get you to the hospital.”
“I’m fine,” Ulric hissed.
“No, you’re fucking not.” Gage hauled Ulric to his feet. Ulric staggered a little. The bundles of anxiety in Gage’s body grew into a larger mess. What if Ulric had hit his head? What if that stab wound infected him inside, and it slowly killed him?
Gage pulled his phone out and dialed 911, his heart clenching so tight, it almost burst.
“Hang in there,” Gage muttered. “Don’t die on me.”
“I won’t die,” Ulric said, but he looked uneasy. At least the bleeding seemed to be slowing down. At least he was still conscious.
Gage heaved him back to the sidewalk, sitting him on the bench. He told the emergency call operator about Ulric, and where they were. The whole time, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Ulric. The way Ulric held himself tight, the way he stole glances at Gage, time and again, before looking at the fallen buns on the road.
Gage glanced at the side alley, at the bench, and he imagined not stopping by to check on Ulric at all. Ulric would’ve been in that alley, alone with his robbers, and... they might’ve killed him. Stabbed him, taken his phone, and left him to die.
That single thought seared away everything else, until it consumed him with the horror of it.
He imagined a world without Ulric. Without Ulric smiling at him, without Ulric all flustered. He imagined never joking with Ulric anymore, never kissing or hugging him again. He imagined not being needed by this man. Not hearing his laugh. Not holding his hand.
He’d been taking Ulric for granted, he realized. And maybe he shouldn’t have minded so much that Ulric had tried to give him money. Maybe he shouldn’t have cared that Ulric had been keeping secrets—those were Ulric’s decisions to make. None of which had harmed Gage at all.
If he’d lost Ulric today... Gage knew he would’ve regretted leaving Ulric behind. He would’ve lost the most important part of his soul, and it would’ve been the result of such a petty argument.
I should learn to trust him, Gage thought. Because he’s worth fighting for.
Was there time to fix this?
His heart pounding, Gage sat heavily next to Ulric, tangling their fingers together. Ulric stiffened, glancing down.
“Bad time to be having this conversation,” Gage blurted. “They said the ambulance will be here in a few minutes. Think you’ll survive until then?”
Ulric nodded. “Yeah.”
Relief seeped into Gage’s chest. “Thank the gods.” He leaned in, at the same time Ulric moved—Ulric’s nose bumped his cheek awkwardly. Then he pulled away, his eyes wide with surprise.
“What was that?” Gage asked. He didn’t dare hope.
“I just—” Ulric’s neck turned pink. Then he leaned closer and slanted his mouth over Gage’s, a warm, gentle touch that felt like uncertainty and longing. It felt like desire and affection. Gage’s pulse stumbled.
It was the first time Ulric had kissed him, without Gage initiating it.
The next moment, Ulric shoved himself back against the bench, looking away, his flush deepening. Gage’s throat grew tight. “You’re gonna pretend that you didn’t just kiss me?” Gage murmured.
“That—That was thanks.” Ulric wet his lips, looking nervous and awkward. Ever so adorable.
Gage’s heart swelled. “That’s it? Just thanks?” He leaned in, needing so much more. Needing to show Ulric how important he was.
