Chapter TWENTY-TWO-EMMET

The sign for Cow Country Rodeo had been decorated with some fall themed garland and lights, but it could probably stand to be repainted.

I walked past the separate bull pens, wondering which of those big bad bastards I was going to draw during my event in just a few hours. The smell of fur, sweat, hay, and dung was thick in the air, making my hypersensitive nose twitch.

I was used to the smells of ranches, farms, and animals, so it wasn’t as repulsive as it sounded.

It was human smells that were often the most offensive. Not sweat or excrement. More the scent of intentions or emotions like cruelty, fear, mendacity, and deviant impulses.

But I wasn’t paying attention to any of the men or animals in that place. My mind was elsewhere. My mind was on my mate.

“Yo, Emmet, help the boss out for a sec,” Kian shouted to me.

“On it,” I said, and turned, flipping him the bird.