by Piper Vaughn
Judging from the pissed-off expression on Dylan’s face when he finished his story, Avery didn’t think his help with investigating Lacey’s disappearance would be forthcoming.
Dylan’s jaw clenched tight and a vein throbbed in his temple. “Avery,” he said, slow and measured, as if he was fighting to keep his voice calm. “Don’t you think you should leave this to the professionals? Look what happened with Victor. You got in way over your head. If you thought messing with him was dangerous, imagine what men who kidnap young girls and sell them into sexual slavery might do to you if they caught you poking into their business.”
Avery pulled out of Dylan’s hold. “But the cops haven’t gotten anywhere in the two months Lacey’s been missing, and the pack dismissed Mr. Otis when he told them he thought something bad had happened. He doesn’t have anyone else to help him. Why shouldn’t I?”
Dylan ran a hand over his hair, his frustration clear. “Because you’re not a detective. You’re not a PI. You’re not licensed to do this or to carry a weapon to defend yourself. Look, I know Otis and Lacey, and I agree it’s terrible she disappeared, but this isn’t amateur hour, Avery. This is serious. You could get yourself killed.”
“I’m not going to get killed. I’m just asking around.” Avery gestured at the table, where paperwork lay scattered. “I’ve noticed a trend during my research, a rash of girls who’ve gone missing lately. They’re all young, and it’s been under similar circumstances. They’ve disappeared, leaving their possessions behind, and most of them don’t seem to have much family. I did find a couple of people, and I’ve scheduled interviews for later in the week, but—”
Dylan gripped his arm. “Listen to yourself, Avery. ‘Scheduled interviews’? Do these people know you’re not actually a private investigator?”
Avery lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes. “Yes, as a matter of fact, they do. I told them I was a friend of one of the girls who’d gone missing. They seemed willing enough to talk to me.”
“And how will you know you’re not walking into some kind of trap?”
“You’re paranoid. These are normal people. I’m sure they just want to find their missing loved ones too.”
Dylan growled, low and fierce. “Jeffrey Dahmer seemed ‘normal.’ So did John Wayne Gacy, until they found bodies buried in his crawl space.”
Avery’s forehead creased in confusion. “I don’t know who that is.”
Dylan opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. “I… you don’t….” He shook his head. “They were serial killers. And rapists. Both of them fond of men and—look, that doesn’t matter. The point is, you were planning on walking into an unknown situation by yourself, without telling anyone. What if something had happened to you? I can’t stand the thought of—” He broke off and worked his jaw. “I just think if you don’t want to go to the police, you should at least go to Alpha Odell.”
“But I told you, Mr. Otis already tried that. He said—”
Dylan captured Avery’s face between two large palms, stopping his words. “Avery. It’s worth speaking to him again. I’ll go with you. We’ll make him understand Otis’s suspicions. I haven’t heard of any other shifters disappearing, but if there’s a chance, however remote, that Lacey was taken—that she’s being held somewhere and forced to do things—the alpha will want to know about it. Trust me.”
Avery stared into Dylan’s eyes, seeing the concern there. He didn’t really want to approach Alpha Odell again, not after having asked for help so recently. He knew he was seen as an outsider and a troublemaker by the pack. What reason did Alpha Odell have to take him seriously? But then, he hadn’t thought approaching him for a job would be as easy as it had been. Jaden’s encouragement had helped him see that his father was a fair man. Maybe Avery needed to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Avery nodded as much as Dylan’s grasp allowed. “I’ll talk to him.”
Dylan gave him a narrow look. “We’ll talk to him. I’ll call him and see if we can stop by on Saturday morning. And if it’ll make you more comfortable, text Jaden and ask if he’ll meet us there.”
“Okay.”
Dylan’s expression softened. “I think it’s admirable that you want to help Otis. Really. But I don’t want you to be hurt. You understand, don’t you?”
Avery melted a little, his stomach fluttering. “Yeah.”
“I’ll help you however I can. I need to. Just let me, all right? My wolf will go crazy if you don’t.”
Avery searched his face. “Just your wolf?”
One corner of Dylan’s mouth quirked. “Both of us. We’ll lose our fucking minds, okay?”
Avery smiled back shakily and reached up to grip Dylan’s hands on either side of his face. “Okay.”
Dylan dipped his head and kissed him, his lips soft and caressing. Avery responded eagerly, not giving more than a passing thought to the fact that he hadn’t combed his hair after his bath earlier and that he was wearing his rattiest, rumpled pajamas. He focused on Dylan’s mouth and his taste and the way one of Dylan’s hands slid to the back of his skull, possessive, keeping Avery near.
The kisses went on and on. Any time Dylan tried to pull away, Avery whimpered and chased his mouth, craving more. His body was enflamed, every inch of him hot, needy, desperate. Dylan’s scent made his head swim with hazy, glorious pleasure. He felt doped up, yet all too aware of Dylan’s every move and sound, of the fact that it was his own voice whispering “please” whenever they parted for air.
Avery moaned and pressed closer to Dylan until he was sitting astride his lap, grinding his cock against Dylan’s hard abdomen. Dylan had just enough hair for Avery to thread his fingers into, so he did, holding Dylan close as they drowned in each other.
Finally, as if he’d lost some inner battle, Dylan stopped trying to pull away. He groaned and reached for the hem of Avery’s shirt. Before Avery could blink, the material had been yanked over his head. The air of the apartment felt cool against his newly bared skin and his swollen, sensitized mouth. He shivered.
“You too.” Avery pushed Dylan’s coat from his shoulders, grabbed the bottom of Dylan’s henley, and tugged. The jacket hit the floor and the shirt got tossed somewhere across the living room; then they were chest-to-chest. The smattering of hair across Dylan’s pecs tickled Avery’s nipples until they hardened to tight little buds. He cried out and arched his back when Dylan found one peak and caught it between his teeth.
Dylan cupped his ass, his fingers digging into Avery’s crease through his pajama bottoms. Avery’s mind went fuzzy. He pressed back into Dylan’s touch, instinctively seeking more. His thoughts of “no rushing” vanished just as they’d started to niggle at his brain.
Avery didn’t know how far he and Dylan would go. He didn’t care. He wanted Dylan. The whys and hows were insignificant. He’d waited too long, all those months when he’d pretended the yearning inside him was for something else, not for the mate who’d rejected him. The need inside Avery wouldn’t be denied now. Rationality had taken a backseat to lust.
Dylan nudged him and Avery let himself be pushed until he lay flat against the couch cushions. He reached out to maintain the contact between them, tracing the muscles on Dylan’s washboard stomach, even as Dylan ripped his pajama pants free. His briefs got the same treatment. Then he was naked, his hard, leaking cock resting against his lower abdomen. Like Dylan, he was uncut. All male shifters were.
Dylan raked his gaze from Avery’s face to his groin, lingering on his chest, where Avery had elaborate wings tattooed below his collarbones. Avery knew he wasn’t massively endowed, but he was proud of his size and shape. He reached down and gripped his dick at the base so it stood upright.
Dylan’s nostrils flared. “Jesus. You’re perfect.” He covered Avery’s body with his own, nestled into the cradle of Avery’s slender thighs.
The denim of his jeans felt rough and his belt scratched, but Avery welcomed him close. He wrapped his arms around Dylan, drawing him down until their li
ps met again. Dylan’s tongue twined with his, and Avery shuddered at the slick heat of their kiss, at the weight of Dylan’s body on top of him, at the press of their bare chests—his narrow and toned, nearly hairless, and Dylan’s broad, furry, and heavily muscled.
Digging his nails into Dylan’s back, Avery ground up against him, urgent, searching for friction. He needed. Oh God, how he needed. He felt feverish with it, and Dylan was his only cure.
“Please,” he whispered against Dylan’s mouth. He didn’t even know what he was asking for. Something. Anything. Every fiber of his body craved relief.
Dylan squeezed a hand between them. Avery felt his fingers moving, heard the clinking of a belt buckle being undone. He reached for Dylan’s waistband and pushed the jeans and underwear down until they rested around his upper thighs.
Dylan took them both in hand. Their cocks pressed together as Dylan stroked, easing the way with Avery’s precum, which always leaked in copious amounts.
Avery trembled as their ridges caught and rubbed, at the smooth glide of Dylan’s foreskin against his own. Dylan worked their cocks with fast, firm strokes, adding a twist when he got near the heads. All Avery could do in response was moan and return Dylan’s kiss. He accepted Dylan’s possession, his dominance, the way Dylan ravished his mouth as if he were conquering new territory.
Maybe he was.
Avery lost it when Dylan grunted and thrust down against him, adding more pressure to the mix. He broke the kiss to gasp for breath, his orgasm so intense his vision blacked out. His view was endless darkness as his body spasmed and his dick pulsed, spreading slippery warmth between them.
Dylan growled and rutted against him, his cock sliding along the groove of Avery’s hip. His cum scented the air only seconds later—Dylan’s smell, only sharper, muskier.
Avery blinked hazily when he finally stopped coming. Dylan’s hips were still moving in short, jerky motions, smearing their combined release on both their skin. He looked pleased, satiated, his eyes half-closed, hair mussed from Avery’s fingers.
Avery petted his back. He’d been wondering what Dylan’s reaction would be if anything sexual happened between them. With their history, Avery had almost expected Dylan to be angry, maybe resentful. Apparently he wasn’t. At least not yet. For himself, Avery regretted nothing. He loved Dylan’s kisses, the pleasant ache in his mouth, being covered in his scent. It made him feel… owned. Claimed, even without the bite.
He brushed his lips across Dylan’s scruffy jaw. “Will you stay with me tonight?”
The second he asked, he felt vulnerable, as if he’d exposed too much. His breath caught as he waited for Dylan’s answer.
“Of course,” Dylan said, sounding sleepy. “Tomorrow morning I’ll take you to breakfast.”
“I like breakfast. Crispy Waffle?”
Dylan looked surprised but pleased. “Yeah, if you want.”
Avery nodded and nestled his face in the curve where Dylan’s neck met his shoulder. Lines of dark ink decorated the skin there. Someday he’d take the time to explore all of Dylan’s tattoos. With his tongue. For now, he was content to lie there under Dylan’s hot, sheltering weight. It was the best Avery had felt in… ever. “I do want.”
Tomorrow. Forever. Avery knew it then. He wanted to wear Dylan’s claiming mark. He wanted this, him and Dylan, for always. They could be great together. He could feel it.
He didn’t dare say it aloud.
BREAKFAST A few days before had been nice. So had waking up that morning with Avery curled at his side. To be honest, Dylan hadn’t wanted to leave the bed. Not that he’d admit it. He hadn’t told Avery, although they talked every day, but he hadn’t slept that well in a while, and not since either. He replayed that night in his head, from the time he walked into Avery’s loft until he left, and something inside him clenched.
Avery was more than Dylan had ever expected—on so many levels. The way he let loose—gave himself over to Dylan—it was beautiful. The way he begged and the sounds he made—light grunts and hisses…. Christ, the memory alone was turning Dylan on. He needed to get a grip. Walking into the alpha’s house with a hard-on, not to mention smelling of lust and pheromones, was probably not the best idea. Especially since Dylan had glimpsed his father’s truck parked just down the road.
This should be fun.
Standing at the end of the Odells’ driveway, Dylan waited quietly at Avery’s side. They hadn’t moved for the past several minutes, but Dylan was letting Avery make the first step. It was his show. Dylan was only there for support… and to kick anyone’s ass who looked at his mate sideways.
The house near Forest Park was an imposing structure. Built atop a small hill, it gave the impression of a miniature mountain overlooking all of Portland. Dylan knew the view from the back was just that.
Dylan turned his head to watch Avery. “You know I’ve got your back, right?”
Avery only nodded, staring straight ahead.
“Everything is going to work out.” He kept his voice low, soft. He couldn’t make promises, but he also knew the alpha to be fair and mostly wise. He had chosen Lawrence Green as a beta, after all. Nobody was perfect.
Avery bobbed his head up and down again.
Dylan sighed. He didn’t want to rush, but if they stood out there much longer, someone was bound to notice and come for them anyway. “You ready?”
Even after Avery had agreed to speak with the alpha, Dylan had watched all morning as his mate gathered the nerve and swallowed his pride to do so. The hedgehog amazed him, the way he placed Otis and his daughter on a pedestal. Selflessness was a new facet to Avery he honestly hadn’t expected. The guilt of judging Avery before he actually knew him washed over him. There was nothing he could do about it now. Time to move forward.
Over the years, Dylan had been to the alpha’s house more than once—mostly for one infraction or another. While his issues with authority began with his father, they didn’t extend completely to the alpha. He’d been a member of the pack his entire life, and even though he didn’t approve of all of his decisions, Dylan respected the alpha.
Which was why they now stood outside the alpha home.
Avery took a deep breath and nodded but didn’t move. Dylan waited. Avery was the type who considered himself a failure if he ever needed to ask for help. For anything. Just when Dylan was sure Avery was about to tuck tail and run, he blinked up at Dylan and said, “Okay. Let’s do this.”
It felt natural when Avery reached over and laced their fingers before starting up the path to the front door. The tender gesture unknotted something inside him.
The front door flew open before Dylan had the opportunity to ring the bell. Jaden stood there, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. Dylan followed Jaden’s gaze to his and Avery’s entwined hands and chuckled, which only served to deepen Jaden’s blush, highlighting his freckles. When he lifted his gaze, he looked only at Avery. It wasn’t that Dylan didn’t know Jaden was intimidated by him. He’d grown used to the wary looks and whispers from the pack. Some of it had to do with Dylan’s strength. For others it was about his connection to Lawrence. Not that Dylan claimed that connection in public, but it’s not like he could change his parentage.
It didn’t keep Dylan from releasing Avery’s hand and swinging a proprietary arm around him to pull him closer. Jaden’s eyes widened a hair, and then he swallowed audibly. Dylan only smirked.
He was glad Avery had called Jaden to be there for the meeting. Dylan liked being the one Avery leaned on, but surprisingly, jealousy and possession didn’t enter Dylan’s mind when he thought about their friendship. Jaden was good for Avery. Dylan thought possibly Jaden was the one who kept his hedgehog grounded.
“Hey, Jay.” Avery spoke with more confidence than Dylan expected, but he still heard the shakiness in his tone, the uncertainty. “You know Dylan, right?” He tilted his head in Dylan’s direction.
“Yeah.” Jaden threw a tight grin at Dylan and eyed him skeptically for a moment before nodd
ing. “I know who he is.” He was a cute kid. Not Dylan’s type, but still, Dylan could admit Jaden’s sweetness could be attractive to the right person.
Dylan laughed and waved at Jaden with his free hand. “Hey, man,” he said, cordially. “Good to see you again.”
Finally Jaden met Dylan’s stare, his head held high, gaze filled with determination. “You too. Do you guys want to come in?”
Nervously, Avery looked up at Dylan just as Dylan turned to him.
“You’ve got this,” Dylan whispered, dropping a kiss on his forehead.
Avery swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, then nodded. He didn’t look sure, but Dylan couldn’t have been prouder when he turned back to Jaden.
“Yeah, let’s get this over with.” Dylan caught a slight tremble in Avery’s voice, almost imperceptible. Though by the sympathetic expression on Jaden’s face, Dylan thought he may have heard it as well.
When Jaden looked like he might say something more, he turned on his heel and walked away. Dylan assumed he and Avery were expected to follow. As he pulled away, Avery reached back and took Dylan’s hand then trailed behind Jaden as he led them through the house to the living room. It was a large room situated at the far back corner of the house. The two outside walls consisted of floor-to-ceiling windows. The room itself was comfortable, inviting. Dylan chalked that up to Mrs. Odell. She was one hell of a woman, exactly like the room—open, soothing, and elegant.
“Dylan,” Odell greeted cheerfully, with a wide grin. He commandeered the overstuffed seafoam green chair he sat in as if it were a throne.
“Alpha.” Dylan nodded solemnly.
Kitty-corner to the chair on both sides sat two equally large dark brown sofas. In any other room it all may have seemed a bit busy, but under Samantha Odell’s thumb it more than worked with the driftwood coffee table and nautical decorations.
Dylan’s father was situated on one of the couches. Law wasn’t looking at him or Avery, but at their joined hands. If looks were lasers, he and Avery would probably both be minus one hand.
