Prickly Business

by Piper Vaughn

  AVERY LEANED against Dylan for a moment. With the departure of Alpha Odell and the others, he realized he was standing there in nothing but the T-shirt Dylan had given him earlier—now covered in blood—and Dylan was bare-chested save for the bandage Avery had applied to his shoulder.

  They were both filthy, and Avery knew he probably reeked from being in that cell. It was time for a shower, and then more sleep. He’d barely started to doze in the chair next to the couch when the alpha and betas had burst in. In the morning, when their heads were clear, they’d worry about what came next.

  He took Dylan’s hand. “Let’s go get cleaned up.”

  Dylan nodded and allowed Avery to tug him through the house to the master bathroom. Avery turned on the water before shedding his stinky T-shirt and helping Dylan strip off his still-damp jeans. The space wasn’t as large as Avery was used to at his loft, but there was room for the two of them to maneuver without bumping elbows.

  He eyed Dylan’s shoulder. “Should we get a bag or something to protect your bandage?”

  Dylan shook his head and reached up to tear it away. Already his advanced healing had started its work. Avery knew it would take another day or two for the wound to fully mend inside, but the outside had already scabbed over.

  “How bad is it?”

  Dylan grunted. “Sore. But a helluva lot better than it was.”

  Avery tested the water and, finding it to be warm enough, got into the tub. Dylan stepped in behind him and pulled the curtain closed.

  Moving around under the shower spray was trickier. The tub was one of those old-fashioned claw-footed deals and fairly narrow, but they made it work. Avery grabbed Dylan’s soap—a plain, unscented bar—and set to washing his mate. Dylan took it from him, lathered his own hands, and began to return the favor.

  Avery shuddered as Dylan’s wide palms moved down his chest, over his hips and ass, then up his back. Despite his exhaustion, his body reacted to the touch and scent of his mate. His cock stirred, nudging Dylan’s thigh, and he felt Dylan’s dick respond, stiffening against his belly.

  Dylan cupped his chin and tipped his head up. Avery parted his lips on a moan, accepting the firm, slick glide of Dylan’s tongue. It went straight to his balls, drawing them up.

  He lifted onto his tiptoes, and in between washing each other, they kissed. Long, slow, deep kisses, until the water chilled and Avery started shivering in a bad way. Then Dylan dried him off with gentle care, and Avery’s eyes stung as he ran another towel over Dylan’s chest and back.

  They could’ve lost each other tonight. He could have lost Dylan. Had come so close. If that bullet had been a couple of inches to the left….

  Never again would he get himself into trouble with some half-cocked plan. He wouldn’t forgive himself for getting Dylan shot. The guilt would serve as a reminder for Avery to keep a level head—to think instead of just reacting as he’d been prone to doing since childhood. It was one of his biggest faults, and now he knew the potential consequences. This was about more than him and what he wanted. They were two now, a team. They should walk side by side, as he’d said to Dylan.

  Avery really needed to learn to take his own advice.

  Dylan gripped Avery’s nape, pulling him from his thoughts. “C’mon, brat.”

  The word was said with fondness and love. Avery’s lips quirked into a smile as Dylan steered him into the bedroom. They were both still hard, the scent of arousal pouring off their skin, but it was different than before. Desire, need, lust—that was all there—but tempered by a poignant sort of tenderness.

  Avery realized this was it, the moment Dylan had mentioned all those weeks ago. It was time, and they both knew it. Time for Dylan to claim him and solidify their bond. After this, they would be married, mated, in the eyes of the pack, if not the rest of the world. “Till death do you part” would take on a whole new meaning.

  And Avery wanted it. He’d never in his life wanted anything more.

  Avery sank onto the mattress and held out his arms for Dylan to join him. Dylan paused long enough to grab the lube from the nightstand and toss it next to the pillows. Then he was on the bed, and Avery trembled when that broad, strong body covered his. He felt sheltered by Dylan’s weight, his powerful arms. For a moment, he worried about how badly this position would pain Dylan’s shoulder, but then Dylan reclaimed his mouth in a kiss, and rational thought fled. The scratch of body hair, the smell of Dylan, the taste of him—it made Avery dizzy, desperate.

  He ground up against Dylan as their tongues played, twining hot and slick. Dylan broke the kiss and ran his lips down Avery’s throat to the hollow between his collarbones. Then below, to the tattooed wings that decorated Avery’s chest. Lower, to Avery’s sensitive nipples. There, he caught one between his teeth and tugged lightly.

  Avery hissed and arched his back, but when Dylan would have continued on toward his cock, Avery grabbed his uninjured shoulder and shook his head. “I don’t want that. I want you up here.”

  Dylan nodded his understanding. He reversed his path, trailing licks and bites until he found Avery’s mouth again.

  Yes, here. Where he could see Dylan’s eyes and revel in his kiss. Where Dylan could keep their gazes locked as he traced a slick finger over Avery’s hole. Where Avery could watch Dylan’s face when he slowly pushed inside.

  Avery wrapped his legs around Dylan’s waist and canted his hips to meet that first, deep stroke. When Dylan bottomed out, pressed in as far as he could go, Avery shivered and threw his head back.

  Perfect. No other word could describe how he felt when they made love. He’d been created for this, to be filled by Dylan, to accept the hard thrusts that made his toes curl in ecstasy, to offer himself up for Dylan to do whatever he pleased.

  He cried out when Dylan’s pace increased. Sweat dampened their skin and slicked the glide of their chests as Dylan moved. Avery’s moans and the slap of flesh echoed in the room. Already he was close. It was too much, knowing what was coming, even though not a word had been said about it between them.

  Dylan’s hips snapped forward, stuttering as he lost his rhythm. He groaned, a long, broken sound, right against the skin of Avery’s neck, right at the juncture where he would place his bite. His knot swelled, stretching Avery’s hole to a point just shy of pain. Then he struck, his sharp teeth piercing Avery’s skin, marking him, possessing him for all the world to see.

  The jolt of pleasurable agony sent Avery careening over the edge. He bowed his back and came, burying his hands in Dylan’s hair so his mate—his mate—couldn’t pull away, so his mouth stayed where it was, claiming him.

  I’ve been claimed.

  Giddy with endorphins and joy, Avery laughed. He tugged Dylan’s face to his and kissed him, tasting the metallic tang of his own blood. “I’m yours now,” he whispered against Dylan’s mouth. “And you’re mine.”

  Dylan growled and nipped at his chin. “Yours and mine. Don’t you forget it.”

  As if Avery could. He laughed again then rocked his hips. Dylan’s knot tugged at his rim. Oh God. Avery bit his lip and repeated the motion. “Mmm….”

  Dylan groaned. “Av. Ah fuck. Sensitive.”

  “But it feels so good.” Avery swiveled his pelvis slowly. The pressure sent his cock from half-hard to flying full-mast. “So full.”

  Dylan grunted and began to work his hips in tandem with Avery’s. His quickening breaths puffed against Avery’s throat. “Fuck.”

  Avery tossed his head on the pillows, his face heating. A familiar tingle started in his balls, and he trembled, chasing the sensation. He clutched at Dylan’s back and ground down onto the knot. “Don’t stop. Please. Gonna c-come again.”

  Dylan snarled and pushed in harder.

  That was it. Avery slammed his eyes shut, nearly screaming as a second, more intense orgasm crashed over him. He felt it in his hole and his taint. His nipples tightened and his cock pulsed, but he didn’t shoot again, just gasped wordlessly until the spasms stopped.

/>   “Holy shit.” Dylan’s voice came to him as if from a great distance.

  Avery moaned softly as more of Dylan’s heat spilled inside him.

  For several minutes, neither one of them seemed to have the ability to move. They panted, their breaths slowing, until Dylan finally stirred and separated their bodies.

  Avery made a garbled sound that wasn’t quite words. His claiming mark throbbed and he suspected he might still be bleeding. Soreness twinged in his ass, and he was covered in cum and sweat and he probably needed another shower. But goddamn, he couldn’t recall a time he’d ever been happier.

  Dylan leaned over him. “Are you okay?”

  Avery had to swallow to wet his throat before he could answer. “I feel amazing. Incredible. You?”

  Dylan grinned and dipped his head to brush their lips together. “Never been better.”

  Epilogue

  “DROP THAT box and I’ll shave your head while you sleep, pretty boy.”

  Dylan heard Avery’s warning from all the way outside. He chuckled as he pulled another box from the bed of Jaden’s truck. This one marked “In da club.” He shook his head. Good lord.

  “He’d do it too, you know?” Jaden followed him into the house.

  “Pfft, like I don’t worry about that every time I piss him off. I’ve already hidden my clippers,” Dylan joked stepping though his front door and heading in his mate’s direction.

  Avery stood in the living room directing the move like a conductor at a symphony. “By the kitchen sink, third drawer down.” He batted his eyes at Dylan. “Like that’s a secret hiding spot. Besides, I don’t need clippers for you.” Dylan dropped the box of clothes on the floor and Avery rose on his tiptoes to brush a kiss across his cheek. “I know how to hit you where it hurts.” He winked and slid his hand down to Dylan’s cock and squeezed.

  Dylan snorted and slapped Avery’s ass. “Like you can go without sex.”

  Jaden giggled from behind him. “He’s gotcha there, Av.”

  Lucky for Jaden, Dylan knew what good friends he and Avery were. It was what exempted Jaden from the bulk of Dylan’s possessive posturing.

  Avery stepped back and huffed.

  “Hey, Avery, what was in that box marked ‘Drop this and die’?” Lucas asked as he strolled into the living room from the back of the house.

  “My A. Testonis, Bottega Venetas, and Forzieris. Why?”

  Lucas flushed. His eyes landed everywhere but on Avery. “Oh, no reason,” he mumbled.

  Avery narrowed his eyes and huffed. “I swear to God, Lucas, if there’s one scratch on those shoes.” He stormed from the living room mumbling under his breath.

  When he was gone, Lucas burst into a fit of laughter. “Shoes, man.” He shook his head. “Have you got your work cut out for you! I don’t envy you one bit.”

  “Yes, you do,” Dylan said plainly, smiling at his friend. He knew the truth.

  “Yeah, well, what are you gonna do?” Lucas shrugged and looked around at the room littered with Avery’s unpacked items. “That it?” He tipped his chin at the box in Jaden’s arms.

  “This is the last of it.” Jaden lifted the box off his hip and set it on the kitchen counter.

  “I’m out, then.” Lucas rubbed his hands together, then grinned as Avery stomped back into the living room. “Got a date tonight.”

  “I hope he’s a bad kisser.” Avery scowled, crossing his arms over his chest in true butthurt form.

  Lucas laughed and turned to leave. “I’ll let you know,” he called from the doorway with a wave. “By the way,” he turned around, “I didn’t drop it. I was just wondering.” With a wink he closed the door.

  “He’s such an ass.” Avery pouted.

  “What’d he do, brat?” Dylan pulled him to the sofa.

  “Nothing.” He flung his arms wide. “The jerk even unpacked my shoes and hung them in the organizer.”

  He huffed another laugh and sat down. “And that’s bad?”

  “No, Dylan.” Avery fit himself snugly against Dylan’s side. “He made me worry for no reason. Your friend’s a dickhead.”

  Jaden giggled again and took a seat in the chair. “What did your mom and dad say about you moving out of the loft?”

  Avery raised his shoulder in a half shrug. “Not much. I’m pretty sure Daddy expected me to come crawling back asking for help. Though I get the impression he doesn’t really care either way.”

  Dylan didn’t particularly care for Mr. Babineaux. How he could be so indifferent to a son like Avery, a man so generous he’d give up his time and effort for a complete stranger, a man with a heart so big he worried every day about Lacey and how to get her home—Dylan knew firsthand—a man who loved with his whole mind, body, and soul. No, there was no love lost for the elder Babineaux and Dylan was in no rush to ever meet the man.

  “Hmph. Did he say anything about you being mated?” Jaden asked.

  Avery scoffed. “Oh, he had plenty to say, just nothing worth repeating or worrying over. He mostly talked about Wynfield and how he’s the perfect son and how he would never be so careless as to mate a mangy wolf. Blah, blah, blah.” He waved his hand back and forth.

  It made Dylan grin. He could almost see the bored socialite Avery had once been.

  “If he only knew the type of stuff Wyn did when we were teenagers,” Avery continued. “I know for a fact he was sleeping with at least two married women and maybe even the bank manager’s son, though I can’t prove that one. He’s not the angel Daddy seems to think he is. And don’t get me started on Debbie.”

  Avery could vent all day about his siblings. Dylan knew from personal experience. But thankfully he was saved by his ringing phone. Glancing down at the caller ID, he disentangled himself from Avery’s hold and headed into the kitchen for some privacy.

  “Yo, man,” Dylan greeted. “Whatcha got?”

  It had been three and a half weeks since the warehouse, and it had taken everything Dylan had in his arsenal to keep Avery from hunting down every known associate of the dirty cops in search of answers. It didn’t help that the men arrested were spouting off about wolves attacking for no reason. Though, as far as Dylan knew, authorities had chalked that up to Portland wildlife. The Northwest Industrial was right by Forest Park. So it wasn’t unthinkable.

  But Avery was antsy and worried. Dylan was too. Not to mention Otis. He’d been devastated to learn what had happened to Lacey, but Avery had promised he would find her and bring her home. Dylan was pretty sure Otis believed him, but the longer Lacey was out there, the worse her chances of being found. It had taken a little convincing for Avery to wait until the detectives working the case had more information. Wallace, one of the officers who’d found them in the warehouse, was sympathetic to their plight, having dealt with some of the rescued girls from the ring.

  There were avenues Dylan and Avery could work that PPB couldn’t without a tangle of red tape in their way.

  “Not anything you’re gonna like,” Wallace grumbled over his end of the line.

  Dylan figured. “What is it?”

  “Melnyk has agreed to hand over the names of the big players he worked with in exchange for protection.”

  “And?” Dylan prompted.

  “It’s outta my hands now, Green. The DA is handling all the details now, and they don’t tell me anything, but the deal is done, and that dickhead gets a new life with a new name God only knows where. Hope he chokes on it,” Wallace groused.

  Dylan did too. He sighed. “Any word on Harris?”

  Melnyk’s partner wasn’t among those arrested at the warehouse, and no one had seen or heard from him since. Though with witness statements from the girls rescued and Sawyer’s unofficial statement to the shifter detectives, a warrant had been issued for his arrest. If Melnyk knew where his partner was, he hadn’t fessed up.

  “Nothing yet.” He paused and Dylan could hear how tired the man was. He’d been working almost nonstop on this case and had even asked for a transfer into the Human
Trafficking Task Force. He was still waiting to hear back. “We’ll find him. He’s bound to fuck up eventually. Harris was never really that bright. He’s got to be taking orders from somebody. Just don’t know who.”

  He could see that. Harris had been an asshole that day at the precinct, but a criminal mastermind? Dylan didn’t think so.

  Dylan heard Wallace hiss in a breath.

  “What?” Dylan asked. He could tell there was something else.

  “They’re still looking for Avery.”

  Dylan dropped his chin to his chest, unsurprised.

  Twelve girls had been rescued from the warehouse that night, some of whom had seen Avery. Lucky for Avery, none of them knew his name, just that he was blond and he wasn’t among them when the cops discovered the cages. It was due to Wallace’s foresight to pocket Avery’s wallet when he discovered it at the warehouse that Avery hadn’t been identified. The name on the ID might’ve been fake, but the picture was clearly him, and he’d been seen by plenty of people in the police station. Avery’s phone and Mini Cooper were still missing. He’d reported the car stolen in case it was found. Although they didn’t expect it.

  “Avery’s still in the clear, Green,” Wallace continued. “As far as I know, they think he was some kid who may have been sold before we got there. But without a name all we have is his composite, and even then it’s not a great likeness. I don’t know why Melnyk’s not talking, probably because he’d have to fess up to Avery’s kidnapping too.” He paused. “Either way. It’s nothing to worry about until it is. We’ll figure it out if it comes to it.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Dylan scrubbed a hand over his face. “Let me know if you find out anything else.”

  After saying their good-byes, Dylan hung up.

  Exhaling, Dylan pushed away from the counter and wasn’t surprised to find Avery leaning against the other side of the wraparound.

  “What is it?” Something in his eyes said he already knew but needed to hear it anyway.

  Dylan wasn’t surprised in the least. Avery could smell news on this case a mile away.