Wild Hearts Omega: M|M Cowboy Shifter Romance: Whisky & Scars Series, #1

By Jean. K. Hart

Shiloh wasn't a typical omega…
He liked his boots tall, his shirts short and his Alpha's big and bad. He gives just as good as he takes, and he could ride a cowboy like the devil. Working at the pleasure house in Greyhounds Canyon, Shiloh was content with his life in the town of Helena that's until he finally met his match.
Michael Cox was a stone-cold killer.
A ruthless bounty hunter with a wiry grin, smoking hot body, and legs that would make even a bull shudder. Shiloh knew he was in for the ride of his life when Michael came to his bed.
It ends just as quickly as it starts and Michael Cox disappears like doused smoke from a fire.
Good riddance. Even though Shiloh's heart had beaten out of his chest at the mere sight of the black leather-clad Alpha, with his wicked guns and dimpled grin, Michael Cox was the sweetest sin. In the South, we take our whiskey neat, and our scars with a dose of pride.
Shiloh was getting on just fine without him until he was taken in the middle of the night by Michael's sworn enemies. Can Shiloh survive? Or will Michael have to unleash the animal inside him to get his Omega back?

 

Warning: M/M cowboy romance, fluff, and heavy angst, deals with mature themes such as kidnapping, discussions of assault, and mature subject matter. Gaurenteed HEA. Please be advised. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jean. K. Hart
• Release date: Jun 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9781998809257

Jean. K. Hart

Jean K. Hart is a romance author who writes steamy cowboy romances set against the backdrop of the American West. Born and raised in the heart of Toronto, Jean has always been captivated by the rugged charm and unbreakable spirit of the cowboys who shaped the frontier.

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Wild Hearts Omega

Jean. K. Hart

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Jean. K. Hart

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Disclaimer

The information and opinions expressed in this book are solely those of Jean K. Hart, the author, and do not represent the views of the publisher. The content provided is for informational purposes only and should not be considered as professional advice. Jean K. Hart and the publisher disclaim any liability for errors, inaccuracies, or omissions, and assume no responsibility for any consequences arising from the use of information contained within this book. Readers are advised to consult with appropriate professionals regarding their specific situations. The inclusion of any links or references does not imply endorsement or guarantee the accuracy of the linked information.

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Copyright

Copyright © June 10th, 2023 Jean. K. Hart All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Cover design by: Jean. K. Hart

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Tigger Warnings

Mentions of sexual assault

Death or Grief: Content involving the death of a loved one or grief-related themes.

Sexual Content: Explicit sexual content, scenes, or discussions.

Sexual Harassment or Abuse: Scenes or discussions involving sexual harassment or abuse.

Explicit Language: The inclusion of strong or explicit language throughout the book.

Contents

1.A Fated Encounter

2.The Alpha Gunslinger

3.The Omega Rancher

4.Riding into Danger

5.The Betrayal of Trust

6.A Night Under the Stars

7.The Omega's Secret

8.Confronting the Past

9.A Duel at High Noon

10.Caught in a Blizzard

11.The Alpha's Reckoning

12.A Harsh Reality

13.A Desperate Escape

14.Protecting the Pack

15.An Omega in Danger

16.The Alpha's Vulnerability

17.The Omega's Brave Sacrifice

18.A New Beginning

19.A Wild Mustang Tamed

Other Works

About the Author

1

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A Fated Encounter

Greyhounds Canyon, Lunarville 1898

Shiloh sat at his vanity table in rose-colored silken robes, ignoring the john glaring at him like a rattlesnake ready to strike. He didn't care about the man's disappointment, just the cash he was about to drop in his safe. Carey Weston, the sheriff's son, watched from the shadows, his alpha scent souring by the minute. The air was heavy with the acrid scent of tobacco and perspiration. The drapes cast a veil of secrecy over the room. Beads of sweat formed on his brow like bullets on a belt, and Shiloh waited for the john to take his leave.

Why do I feel like I’m that one that’s being used? Carey snorted, the whiskers on his chin long and bristling, and his reddish-brown was drenched in the firelight's warmth. You used to cuddle with me even after I paid, now you’re just counting the money.

So? Shiloh barely suppressed the sigh that came through his nose. God, he couldn’t wait to be out. He turned on his seat, throwing a coy smile over his shoulder. The silk robe slipped, exposing his smooth but muscular back. Sorry, sweetie, just making sure it’s all there.

Why? Carey’s expression darkened. I’ve never stiffed you before.

Don’t misunderstand me. Shiloh placed the money in the safe, locking it with the key that hung on a small chain around his neck. I just wanted to make sure is all. Nothing personal.

Come here. Carey was still naked from earlier, his thick cock filling once again with need. Shiloh slithered into the bed. He took his bottom lip into his mouth and peered up at the alpha.

Do you want me again?

Always. Carey inhaled, taking in Shiloh’s rich scent of spring water and soil. Carey pressed Shiloh down, hovering over him in a way most omegas would preen, but Shiloh felt tired. Why don’t you come live with me? I can give you everything you need.

You know I can’t do that. Shiloh squirmed beneath him, spreading his legs and locking them around the alpha’s powerful thighs. Madame Jenny would have my head, for starters.

Literally. Her sharp shooting skills were the talk of the town. Many cowboys would gather to watch her at the shooting range, where she would shoot down cans and bottles with her revolver.

Whatever you owe, I can pay. Carey leaned down to nip at the leather collar around Shiloh’s neck. I mean it. I already asked my daddy, and he said yes. Once I’m more established, we can set up nearby on Rodney Street, right next to the church—

A whore near a church? Now I’ve heard everything. Shiloh rolled his eyes, his smile remaining playful but plastered on.

Shy, I mean it. Yeah see, I got it all figured out. I’ll take you away. We’ll get married and start a family. I don’t care what people think, Shiloh. You’re the one for me.

I’m the one for tonight, Carey, Shiloh corrected, his lips tugging into a wider smile. So, why not show me what you can do, Alpha? I’ve been waiting long enough.

Don’t try to butter me up, Shiloh, Carey snapped, his voice twinged like a blade. I want this. I’ve been telling you and yet you still don’t give me the time of day.

Shiloh’s heart slammed against his ribcage, and the alpha’s scent was making his scalp tingle. In this type of profession, he was used to the spike of alarm that came with alphas reaching beyond their means. A handful of girls had been beaten within an inch of their lives just for leading the wrong alpha down the alleyway.

Carey had sharp cheekbones and piercing blue eyes, but to Shiloh, he was nothing more than another alpha who thought he was entitled to whatever he wanted. Despite the fear that pulsed through his body, Shiloh felt no attraction towards Carey.

Shiloh remembered the day Carey stumbled into the pleasure house, wild-eyed and full of anger. He was just another lost soul, drowning his sorrows in whiskey and the arms of the girls. But there was something different about him, a darkness that lingered behind his eyes.

Shiloh soon learned about Carey's past, and how his mother's death had sent him on a path of destruction. He stole cattle from local farmers and caused trouble for his father, the sheriff. But despite his rough exterior, there was a vulnerability to him that Shiloh couldn't ignore.

Over time, they developed a connection, and Shiloh became Carey's confidant. He listened as Carey poured out his heart, and in return, he shared his own past. They formed a bond that went beyond the walls of the pleasure house, and for the first time in a long time, Carey felt like he had someone he could trust. But Shiloh didn’t feel the same. Carey was a john. Most johns spilled their secrets, it was nothing more than pillow talk. Shiloh wanted out of here.

And no alpha would stop me this time.

The alpha's breath washed over him, but he remained aloof. Shiloh softened, exposing the sleek leather band on his neck in a submissive way he knew Carey liked.

I’m not the marrying type, Shiloh replied, his fingers reaching beneath his pillow and wrapping around the handle of his knife. Let’s just enjoy our time together before it’s up. Why ruin it? I’m not good enough for you anyway, Carey Weston.

Carey’s blue eyes flickered with regret and he calmed down, leaning into Shiloh and gripping him. You’re good enough, Shy. You’re the best thing that ever happened to this perish.

Shiloh’s smile almost curved in disgust, but he laughed it off and began rutting against Carey and letting go of the handle of his knife. Prostitutes would just shift into their wolf forms, although alphas were bigger and stronger, it would cause enough of a ruckus to alert Madam Jenny, but Shiloh was different. He couldn’t shift into his wolf form because of an incident that happened in his youth. Five years ago, before he came to Greyhounds Canyon, he had been beaten half to death by one of his father’s associates, Sampson Elder. He was left for dead until Sherry Thompson found his body in a stream near the desert forest. Since then, his wolf never returned and Shiloh was vulnerable without the protection and power that his wolf form would have provided, hence why he carried the knife with him.

I need to get out of here as soon as possible. Sampson Elder wasn’t a man to cross twice. God willing, he would never find him here. Shiloh went through the motions, but terror was nipping at his heels. Something was wrong. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. Carey touched his cheek and Shiloh flinched hard.

Shy, are you alright?

Shiloh forced a smile, but his insides churned. Fear prickled at the base of his spine. He felt shadows lurking around every corner. Come on, cowboy. You aren’t going to waste this night? Let’s have some fun.

His cock wasn’t hard, but the come from earlier was still there and the scene of a preening omega made Carey powerless to resist. He shuddered before grabbing the base of his swelling cock and shoving it to the hilt. Shiloh moaned and gasped when he was supposed to, flooding the room with his intoxicating scent, but inside he was bored to tears.

This wasn’t the life I ever wanted. Carey came twice inside him, his back bowing and a cry escaping from his throat as if he’d die if he couldn’t have Shiloh forever. They cleaned up afterward; it was still early but Shiloh was tired and Carey’s father would worry if he stayed out too late. Carey pressed a brief kiss to his lips, and with a tip of his hat left in a whirlwind of dust and worn leather holsters.

Thank God. Shiloh sighed and collapsed onto the bed, the springs creaking beneath him. He knew he couldn't stay here forever, but for now, it was all he had. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the sounds of the brothel, but they followed him even in his dreams.

Soon. He’d be done with this place and out of here for good.

You there, honey? A voice called through the door. We’re all heading down to Luther’s saloon and thought you’d like to join us?

Shiloh sighed again, his body ached but he knew he’d lose out on potential clients if he sat around all night feeling sorry for himself. Coming, Izzy! he called back.

Freshening up a bit, he washed away the stench of another alpha and dabbed perfume behind his ears, allowing his scent to engulf him. Putting on a plaid shirt, he made sure to open it wide at the throat, exposing the golden necklace he wore, and left his leather collar on the table. Grabbing his cowboy hat, he went out the door, with no plans to take a man tonight. It was for fun, to let off some steam, and to tease the fellow ranch boys rolling through Greyhounds Canyon.

Shiloh hoped that Sherry Thompson would be there, she was a sweet alpha that smelled of fresh apples and hugged him whenever he stopped by. Shiloh's mind drifted back to a peaceful moment, a cherished memory. He recalled the warmth of Sherry's presence as he rested his head on her shoulder, feeling the softness of her skin against his cheek. Her cool, soothing alpha scent enveloped him, like a gentle breeze on a hot summer day, calming and relaxing his restless soul.

Sherry's delicate fingers ran through his hair, their touch bringing comfort and solace. In that moment, Shiloh yearned for it all over again—the serenity, the connection, the joy of being wrapped in her alpha embrace. He eagerly anticipated the day he could rest on her shoulders once more.

Shiloh walked through the familiar halls of the brothel, his boots sinking into the threadbare carpets. The place had been his home for the past five years, and he knew every inch. The walls were papered with a faded floral pattern, the furniture shabby. As he passed the parlor, he saw men in bowler hats and women in gaudy dresses lounging on the plush sofas, sipping drinks and smoking cigars. The air was thick with smoke and the sound of laughter.

He made his way to the back of the brothel, where the girls' rooms were located. Each door was marked with a number, and he knew which ones were occupied by heart. He passed by the room where he had spent the night before, the bed still unmade and the sheets tangled.

Shiloh averted his gaze and kept walking. He reached the door at the end of the long corridor and pushed it open to reveal Izzy's smiling face. She was a large woman, with a round face and warm brown eyes. She wore a simple cotton dress, the fabric straining against her ample curves. But what struck Shiloh the most was the kindness in her gaze, and he couldn't help but feel grateful for her presence.

The wallpaper was peeling, and the window was cracked. But it was home, and he had grown accustomed to its flaws. Izzy welcomed Shiloh inside, and he stepped into her cozy room, which smelled like a mix of lavender and burnt wood. The walls were adorned with tattered paintings, which hung like broken promises. Izzy's smile was as warm as the sun on a summer day, and her kindness was as sweet as honey. What’s with that frown? Huh? she demanded. You look lower than a rock at the bottom of the sea.

Tired. That’s all.

"Please, Izzy replied, her skirts swishing as she walked. I don’t believe it."

Everyone else ready? I need a drink.

Whisky? Straight? Izzy’s lips kinked.

You know it.

Let’s go, then. We’re wasting the night just talking about it!

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Under the starry sky, Shiloh and Izzy strolled out, greeted by a cool breeze stirring up dust and horses whinnying. More women joined as they headed to Luther’s saloon in Greyhounds Canyon.

As the sun set, a warm orange hue bathed the town. The buildings stood like resilient soldiers in faded uniforms, bearing scars of time. Wood creaked like old bones, carrying scents of timber and gunpowder from a nearby yard. Shiloh's boots crunched on gravel, his gaze drawn to the weathered beauty of the structures – echoes of past tales etched into every detail. Despite having a bar at Madame Jenny’s, the girls preferred venturing out.

Luther's Saloon was like a lively oasis, beckoning amid the rugged town. Its lights and music pulled folks in, laughter blending with piano strains.

As he pushed open the door and stepped inside, Shiloh felt the warmth and energy of the place wash over him like a soothing balm. The air was thick with the smell of whiskey and perfume, the sounds of chatter and music filling his ears.

Shiloh shoved his hands deep into his pockets. Jingling spurs filled the air as cowboys moved about, and a faint smell of hay lingered in the background. The night air was alive with excitement.

Raucous alphas and betas made Shiloh’s lips curl in distaste as he watched the girls disperse, all of them latching onto a man nearby, rubbing up against them, lavishing them with their intoxicating scents. Shiloh wasn’t in the mood to talk just yet. He’d work his way around the room to the new ranchers rolling through Greyhounds Canyon, but for now, he’d wet his throat.

His cowboy boots clicked on the wooden floors as he climbed up to sit on one of the sturdy wooden stools while Cleveland served him a shot of whiskey. His shirt could barely contain his stomach, bulging at the seams. Cleveland gave him a cheery smile, eyes crinkling.

Have a moment for an old-timer like me? This one is on the house.

Shiloh’s lips pulled in a shallow smile. Not tonight, Cleveland. I’m on the prowl, but call Jenny tomorrow morning and she can set something up. It’s been a while since I’ve had you in my bed.

Cleveland’s entire face flushed, his white beard twitching, and he sputtered out his apologies. He was an old beta widow, kind and gentle, who owned Luther’s saloon.

I’ll do that, little one. Cleveland was soon called over by another client.

Shiloh downed his shot, rubbing the back of his neck, wishing he’d stayed back at the pleasure house. The saloon smelled like mead, beer, whiskey, and about a dozen alphas, their scents like a brush fire out of control. His nose wrinkled, and he caught several new ranchers’ eyes, but he looked away, not interested in getting new clients just yet.

Cleveland poured him another shot, knowing that he’d run a tab for the night before one of the alphas cleared it for him.

The wooden boards of the floor were laid over dirt and dust was kicked up into the air to mingle with tobacco smoke and give the whole saloon a hazy quality Shiloh never liked much at all. He much preferred to stay in the cozy brothel, where the rooms were always clear and sweet-smelling and the only haze came from the incense lit to wash away the stink of visiting alphas.

A huge presence was next to him and he fingered his still-full shot of amber, trying to ignore the man beside him.

Evenin’, Omega. You lookin' for company tonight? a brusque voice asked.

Shiloh rolled his eyes, his lips pulled in a rueful smile, and he toyed with his shot glass, chuckling. That depends on who’s asking?

Don’t play games, Omega. The man tittered; he smelled of baked earth and gun smoke, his voice thick as gravel. I’ve got a few coins. Why don’t we head out back and you can show me a good time?

Shiloh lifted a brow. He turned to the man, noticing the sweat gathering like raindrops on his brow, his beard was thick and growing out in parts of gray, while his brown hair was plastered to his forehead. He must have been one of the new ranchers who settled in Greyhounds Canyon to help build the new post office on Blakers Street.

If he had a dollar for every time an alpha wanted a little discount, he could have bought himself the whole town by now. A few coins? No, thanks. It would take a lot more than that to spend one night with me.

Now don’t be stuck up, ya hear? I just started workin’ and I ain’t got much cash. I can pay you later.

No thanks.

The rancher raised his hand, sliding the backs of his fingers down Shiloh's arm with his plea. Darlin', it would take me a whole month to get in with you. You ain't gotta be some frigid bitch. I have been dyin' out in this place without an Omega and it's tough to be a man like me with a taste like mine…

Maybe you go on back to where you came from to get an Omega if you're so desperate for one, Shiloh snorted. My life ain't about pity and I ain't got none to spare.

Is that right? The alpha’s expression darkened. So, you ain’t gonna take my hard-earned cash like some stuck-up bitch? I’m a paying customer. Ain’t nobody gonna knot you better than me. You should be fucking begging for it.

The alpha's scent was strong now, and it soured, transforming into a bitter wave of odor