Prickly By Nature (28 page)

“You’ve reached Avery….”

It didn’t even ring any more. Frustrated, he yanked the phone away from his ear and tossed it on the couch. It was either that or smash it against the wall, but then Avery would have no way of calling him.

When Avery called earlier to say he was working on the Boylesque stalker case since Reid had an emergency, Dylan hadn’t expected him to be gone this long. He knew something was wrong. His suspicions were further confirmed when a rush of panic had flooded their bond briefly, followed by breath-stealing terror, and then nothing.

It had been that way for the past twenty minutes. Nothing. Dylan was on the verge of losing his mind.

“Fuck this.” Spinning on his heel, he swiped his keys off the kitchen table. He wasn’t sitting around waiting for his mate when he should be out there searching. Screeching tires greeted him when he opened the door.

Outside, Reid jumped out of his red 4x4—a truck Dylan had labeled “the little bird’s penis mobile”—and darted around to the other side. With his heart in his throat, Dylan rushed down the front steps and across the yard. Stumbling to the curb, Reid held up Dylan’s battered and bruised mate. Dylan stepped in front of Avery, lifting his hands but afraid to touch.

A purple-black bruise bloomed over his right cheek from temple to chin. He was covered in scrapes and cuts. His left eye puffed out an angry red, almost swollen completely shut. His lips were cracked and bloodied, as was his nose. Avery braced an arm around his own midsection and groaned.

“What the actual fuck?” Dylan growled, turning his ire on Reid, whose dark eyes rounded dramatically.

“He hasn’t said,” Reid answered, sounding indifferent even though the nervousness wafting from him, bitter and pungent, said otherwise.

“You weren’t there?” Dylan advanced, looming over the falcon shifter. “Where the hell were you, Corbin?”

Reid flushed bright red. Dylan couldn’t give two shits whether he was embarrassed, angry, or sorry. Dylan was on the edge of feral, and falcon sounded like the perfect trophy. His wolf snarled and howled within him, ready to tear into the bird.

“Can we not do this out here?” Avery’s broken tenor cut into the red haze of Dylan’s fury.

He pulled his focus to his mate. Even leaning on Reid, Avery swayed to remain upright and all of Dylan’s instincts went on alert. “Yeah, okay.” He grimaced, knowing the trek inside would be painful for his mate no matter what. He leaned down and placed a kiss on the only clear patch of skin he found on Avery’s forehead. When Avery’s lips twitched, he figured it was about all he’d get in the way of a smile. “This is probably going to hurt worse before it feels better,” he said, bending down to loop one arm under his mate’s knees and the other behind his back.

The groan Avery gave sounded tortured and breathless. Dylan moved quickly into the house and to their bedroom. Avery needed to be as comfortable as possible.

“For what it’s worth, the guy is locked up now.”

Dylan had almost forgotten Reid was there.

He rounded to find Reid leaning against the doorjamb, wearing a proud grin. “That’s not worth shit to me, Corbin. Why the fuck were you not with him? You’re his mentor, asshole. You should’ve been looking after him, not out getting your dick sucked or where the fuck ever you were.”

Reid’s cheeks reddened deeper, and he swallowed convulsively and looked away, indicating his guilt and possibly how close to target Dylan had come.

“You left my mate to hunt down a maniac on his own while you went out and got laid?” Dylan pitched his voice dangerously low.

Reid winced and his entire body visibly jerked back. Dylan wished he had more to throw at the man. His pain and discomfort didn’t rate even a fraction of the scale Avery was dealing with.

“Stop it.” Avery’s raspy voice cut through the growing tension.

Glowering once more at Reid, Dylan left him and went to his mate’s side.

“It’s not Reid’s fault,” Avery gasped as he shifted to lean against the headboard. “You’re being an overprotective dickhead. Are you even thinking about anyone but yourself?”

The question caught Dylan off guard. “I’m thinking about you.” He was always thinking about Avery because Avery didn’t think about his own safety. Ever.

“I’m fine.” At Dylan’s scowl, Avery revised his denial. “I will be fine. If Reid had been out there, he could have been killed. Bird bones are more brittle than yours and mine, Dylan. You know that. I’m glad he wasn’t there.”

“How can you say that?”

“Dylan’s right, Avery. I should have been there.” Reid stepped up to the bed, putting his two cents in, then added, “I was
not
,
however, getting laid. I was at the hospital with my friend. Still, that’s no excuse.” It was obvious to Dylan that Reid was making it a point not to look at him. He didn’t know if the guy thought his show of solidarity would endear him to Dylan. He was wrong if he did.

When Avery’s gaze landed on Reid, it was full of sympathy and understanding. “You’re fine. You were where you needed to be.”

“Get out,” Dylan gritted through his teeth, then faced Reid. “Now.”

“Dylan—”

He swiped a hand through the air and cut Avery off. “Not right now, Avery. I can’t deal with all of this shit without wanting to rip his fucking head off. And you’re over there making puppy dog eyes at him. Fuck that.” He whipped back to glare at Reid and pointed to the door. “Out.”

His face impassive, Reid nodded toward Avery. “Call me tomorrow and let me know how you are” was all he said before spinning around and leaving.

Dylan waited to hear the front door close before he let the tension in his shoulders fall away. Clamping his eyes shut, he squeezed the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, attempting to calm the fury threatening to pound his heart through his chest. Upon opening his eyes, he found Avery staring back at him, a mixture of worry and frustration mottled in his hazel depths.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, and then we can talk.” Dylan sighed, heading to the bathroom for a washcloth.

After wiping away the dried blood and addressing the more serious of his cuts, Dylan took inventory of Avery and found that thankfully some of his bruises were already fading. “I’m going to go grab you something to drink.” He turned and walked out of the room, not ready to discuss anything yet. When he returned with a bottle of water, Avery had slid up and removed his T-shirt. The purple, blue, and yellowish fading bruises brought a thrum back to Dylan’s temples.

Avery glanced up at him and smirked. “I was hoping you’d bring Patrón.”

Dylan glared and tossed the bottle on the bed by Avery’s hip. “Do you think this is funny? You could have been killed, Avery. Do you think about anyone but yourself?” he threw Avery’s accusation back at him.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” he replied, then glanced down at the marks painting his chest. “It isn’t as bad as it looks.”

“Not as bad as it looks? I can see a fucking boot print under your arm. How is that not bad? Someone tried to kill you, and you’re acting like it’s just a normal day at the office.”

“No,” Avery snapped. “I’m acting like a rational person. Shit happens, Dylan. It’s part of my job. I expect it. I have since the day I met Reid. Investigation is not fluffy bunnies and sparkly rainbows, but it’s what I want to do—what I’m good at. And yes, I fucking ache right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to get up tomorrow and go back out there.”

“What if it hadn’t been an idiot human, Avery? What if next time you’re hunted by a wolf or worse? We’re faster and stronger than you. What if you’re not in a place where you can reach your phone? What if you can’t make it home to me?” And that was really the crux of the situation, wasn’t it?

Dylan worried and he was overprotective. He growled and protested. But simply the thought of living in a world without his mate left him gasping for air.

Avery blinked up at him, then stood achingly slow and padded over to him. He palmed the side of Dylan’s face and gave him a sad smile. “Is that what you’re worried about? That I won’t come back to you?” He drew Dylan to him, touching their foreheads together. “I’ll always come back.”

He ignored the burn at the back of his eyes because it had him wanting to give in and forget this whole thing, but the image of Avery hobbling around that truck—that very real, very vivid memory seeped into Dylan’s soul. He refused to let it go yet.

With a slight shake of his head, he pulled away and met Avery’s eyes. He trusted Avery to believe he could do what he said, but…. “There’s no way you can promise that,” he whispered, the reality of Avery’s everyday situation dawning on him.

Avery’s eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything.

“You can’t control other people’s intentions. You can’t promise that.” Dylan heaved a deep sigh. “Listen, what if…?”

“What if what?” Avery asked when Dylan didn’t finish.

“What if you take a break for a little bit?”

When Avery opened his mouth to give what Dylan was sure was the argument of the century in his favor, Dylan held up a hand.

“Just… just listen for one damned minute before going off on me like a rabid dog. You know my dad has been hanging around a lot lately. He’s watching you and me like a hawk, waiting for a reason to petition Odell to have us removed from the pack. Where would we go then?”

Avery threw his hands up, then winced. “So what?” he said. “Why do you even need a pack?”

Dylan squinted at his mate, wondering if this was the first time they’d met. “You know why,” he growled. For the love of all that was right in the world, Avery had just as much as conceded that point only days ago when they’d talked about family and kids. “Wolves are pack animals, Avery. It’s how we survive, with the rearing and support of others. We are a family.”

“You said I was your family.” His words were steady, but Dylan heard the underlying sting.

“You are my family, but don’t make me choose.” When Avery’s eyes shuttered, Dylan knew he’d chosen the wrong words. “I will always choose you, Av. But please don’t ask me to make that decision when it’s not necessary.”

“No,” Avery said, sounding defeated. Dylan’s heart plummeted. “I’m not making you choose, but I won’t let you put me in the position to be the bad guy here. I’m doing a job—an important job. It’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at outside loving you, and I seem to be failing at that now too.” He stormed unsteadily over to the closet and pulled out a duffle. Dylan didn’t go to him. He watched, speechless, as Avery tossed some clothing into the bag and crossed into the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” Dylan choked out when he found his voice.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m getting out of here.”

The words strangled Dylan, unable to pull in air around the rising lump in his throat.

When Avery emerged from the other room, he blanched at what he glimpsed on Dylan’s face. Dylan could only imagine the fear and loss etched there because he felt it so deeply.

“I’m not leaving you, Dylan,” Avery told him, his head held high.

Helplessness stole his breath. He glanced down to the bag at Avery’s hip, then back up. “Are you sure about that?”

When Avery sighed, Dylan felt Avery’s need for him to understand. He didn’t. His heart cracked deeper with each passing second. “I just need time. I’ll be at Jaden’s when you want to sit down and talk about this without ordering me around like a child,” he whispered.

Dylan clamped onto Avery’s elbow before he could step around him. He cleared the plea from his throat and at the last moment said, “At least let me drive you. You were barely walking just a little bit ago.”

True, shifters healed exponentially faster than humans and Avery was obviously doing well enough to walk on his own and carry a bag of clothing, but Dylan could tell he wasn’t at 100 percent.

Avery gave him a sad but understanding smile. “I love you, you know.” It was said so matter-of-factly, yet with so much meaning behind it Dylan nearly fell to his knees, not knowing if this was it. “Thank you,” Avery continued. “But I’m okay. I’ll call Reid to come back and get me.” With that said, he leaned in and brushed a kiss over Dylan’s cheek, and then he was gone.

Like a statue, Dylan stood glued to one spot until he heard the front door close for the second time in less than an hour. He squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled a long, cool breath. It did nothing to calm his racing, cracking heart.

He knew he should go after Avery, talk to him, admit he was wrong. He mostly was, but his wounded pride had him stepping out of the room, down the hallway, and into the kitchen to pull out that bottle of Patrón Avery had asked about earlier. Maybe if he was numb he could convince himself this was all a dream and maybe when he woke up in the morning he would find out it had been. Maybe….

IN THE
two days Avery had been staying at Jaden’s condo, he’d wavered between being furious at Dylan and missing him like crazy. He’d gone back to their house yesterday—during the day, when he knew Dylan would be at the shop—to grab some more clothes and his MacBook, which he’d forgotten in his rush to leave. He’d spent a good ten minutes in the closet with one of Dylan’s shirts held to his nose. But he knew Dylan wasn’t going to just let this incident go, and he didn’t want to argue. He was sick and damn tired of fighting about the same thing, over and over.

He got it. He understood why Dylan was so pissed. Him being hurt, or worse, was Dylan’s worst fear come to life. And, yeah, after the fact, he felt like an idiot for rushing in without any backup. The ensuing fight had been a near thing. Kenneth—Mason’s stalker, a Boylesque regular—had gotten the better of him twice. Avery had been on the ground, taking violent kicks to the side, when Mason smashed Kenneth over the head with a garden gnome from the lawn.

Despite his injuries, Avery regretted nothing. No way could he have sat back and watched as Mason got hurt. And because of his actions, Kenneth was in jail for assault and a host of other charges.

After Avery waved away treatment from the paramedics, he and Mason had spent hours dealing with the cops. He’d texted Reid just to update him on the situation, but then Reid showed up at the precinct. He’d looked guilty and upset, more frazzled than Avery had ever seen him, and he’d insisted on giving Avery a ride. They’d collect the Camry from in front of Mason’s building later, he’d said.