Page 1 of Watch Me

Prologue

Clark “Fin” Finley

Six Months Ago…

Gettingmauledbyabear should come with a warning: not recommended over the age of forty. Though if there was a right age, I didn’t want to hear about it. At forty-eight, I knew I was getting too old to be leading battles against bigger shifters, but I didn’t have a choice.

When the bears from across the lake came for one of our omegas, David King, my best friend from childhood and rightful Alpha of the King pack, should have led the charge. It should have been David who protected his son in the fight. Instead, it was me and a young beta wolf, and I was the one injured. He also should have been there tosee Fowler come home and find his mate, to take his place as Alpha.

But I’d lost David long before he died.

Laying in my bed and staring at the old, white, popcorn ceiling above me while I healed gave me a lot of time to contemplate mistakes in my life. I still wasn’t sure loving David had been one of them.

My best friend found his mate in high school, and Amy was perfect for David. They complimented each other so well in their marriage, and they made me want to be a parent.

Bringing Rowan into my life solo, when he was six and I was still single at twenty-seven, wouldn’t have happened if we didn’t know a social worker who happened to be a shifter. When Valerie introduced me to my son, he asked if I was like Superman because of my first name, Clark. I told him I was. My tall stature and dark hair had probably helped the image in his mind. I promised myself I’d be there for him like his parents and foster families hadn’t.

Rowan still called me Superman instead of Dad most of the time, but I didn’t mind. I had someone who I couldlove unconditionally and he loved me right back. He became my ride or die, and everything else could wait.

By the time Rowan graduated high school and went off to marine mechanic school, making me an empty-nester, David was lost to his grief and the bottle. I regretted not being there for him more, but between fatherhood and running both the pack and the club when he couldn’t, our friendship fell to the wayside. Plus there was Motorvated, the motorcycle shop we started together. He rarely stayed sober enough to work more than a couple hours, so I had to pick up the slack.

In truth, I resented my friend for neglecting his pack and family. I was there for his children when he wasn’t. David didn’t even show up to his son’s high school graduation, having rejected him for being trans.

My bitterness festered until a few years ago when David was diagnosed with liver disease and he finally apologized for all the harm he’d caused while wasting his life away. We’d reconciled, and David thanked me for all the help I’d given to the pack. I felt like my greatest accomplishment was getting David to understand his own child in the end.

Fowler got the letter too late to say goodbye, but he’d come home. I didn’t have to be the Alpha in charge anymore. For all I knew, Fowler would take over the shop and pack immediately.

Where did that leave me?

My entire life had been spent chasing David King around, then being a single father and taking care of the pack. My son was almost twenty-seven himself. He didn’t need me anymore.

Everything I thought I knew, everything I worked for decades to build, felt like it was crumbling around me.

What was my purpose?

Groaning at my existential dramatics, I covered my face, rubbing at the stubble there. It had been a day since I was injured, and mostly healed while shifted, but I felt a twinge in my ribs at the motion.

“Quit moving around,” the masculine voice I thought I’d dreamed commanded.

Fuck. He’s still here.

“You’re still here?” I mumbled, removing my hands from the blankets and opening one eye to find the shirtless and smirking friend of my son standing beside my bed.

Enrique Bravo Jr, or Ricky to his friends, was sexy and he knew it. And in no world should I have been thinking about him in that way.

He was shorter than my six-three frame by a head, but that didn’t stop him from radiating strength and confidence. He’d honed his body through intense workouts for mixed martial arts fighting, and his Cuban heritage had his skin a golden tan under a dozen random tattoos. He was clearly going commando under his loose basketball shorts, with a distinct bulge just below the low hem where he showed off an impressive V, bisected by a dark happy trail.

In short, Ricky was temptation personified for my repressed bisexual ass, but off-limits for a multitude of reasons.

“Where else would I be, old man?” Ricky asked, sitting on the edge of the bed

Growling and narrowing my eyes, I was reminded of the main reason. I was twenty years older than him, and had been friends with his father.

“You called meAlphabefore I got injured,” I pointed out, annoyed by his teasing.

Grinning wider, Ricky ran a finger down my bare arm, making the hairs stand on end. “I can call you Alpha again, if you want?”

Darting my eyes to the ceiling and gritting my teeth, I was glad I had multiple layers of fabric between my twitching cock and his gaze. Rick didn’t need to know what calling me that title did to me. He stopped touching me and I met his eyes again.