Prickly By Nature (3 page)

“The fenders are dented to hell and back, and the grips are bent. Maybe the frame too. I’m not sure,” Dylan tossed out there but couldn’t help his smile.

The bike Lucas came to scope was a wreck. No mechanic in his right mind would take something like that on. Even if a Street Bob was, in good condition, a beautiful piece of machinery. But by the looks of this one, it was nowhere near decent, and starting it might require an act of God. Good thing Lucas was no ordinary builder. He had a thing for the abandoned, broken heaps he called challenges, and this bike fit the bill. More than. Dylan was sure once Lucas decided to buy it—because he would—the Street Bob would eventually look better than the original, no matter how long it took.

“I like her.” Lucas grinned, and though the happiness wasn’t reflected in his eyes, it was a start.

After some time discussing the price with the wrinkled old man who wanted to unload the bike on whatever sucker would take it, Lucas shelled out the money. They loaded up the bike, and then they were on their way.

Lucas’s happy smile faded as soon as he shoved behind the wheel, the easy air between them shifting to heavy and tense the moment they were alone.

“Okay, dude, I’ve given you every chance to say it,” Dylan said, frustrated with the uncomfortable silence hanging thick between them. “What’s going on with you?”

Lucas didn’t speak. The twitch in his implacable expression was the only sign he’d heard Dylan.

Dylan sighed. “C’mon, Luc. It’s me. Since when do we keep secrets?”

He saw the exact moment Lucas gave in, his knotted shoulders relaxing into a slump and the hard lines of his mask melting away. Still, this wasn’t the Lucas he’d known all of his life.

“It’s nothing,” Lucas mumbled.

“Bullshit, man. I know when something’s bothering you. Remember the time when Valerie Martindale kissed you but you didn’t want to tell?” Dylan barked out a laugh. “Because my dad told you girls had cooties and you were scared you caught them.”

Lucas snorted. “Your dad’s an ass.”

“Like we didn’t already know that,” Dylan deadpanned then continued, “I knew something was wrong even when you denied it. Over and over again.”

“Really, D. It’s….” He sighed. “It’s nothing to worry about. I’m just… going through some stuff.”

The need to tear down the wall between them grated. Dylan wasn’t used to secrets, or whatever it was. Lucas told him everything. The man had always been a fount of information, energy, and fucking optimism.

“This is more than stuff. You’re not sleeping, and you barely eat. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. We all have.” Pushing Lucas to talk wasn’t normally Dylan’s style, but their friendship had survived worse. A tiny shove wouldn’t damage them.

Lucas cleared his throat and shook his head.

Dark purple circles had taken up residence under his eyes weeks ago, right around the time he’d started pulling away. Lucas had progressively withdrawn since the day he’d helped Avery move in to Dylan’s place.

Dylan watched Lucas silently, and a thought came to him.
This all started when Avery moved in.
“Dude, tell me it’s not.”

Puzzled, Lucas flicked a glance at him. “Not what?”

“Not what I’m thinking.”

Lucas’s broad shoulders bunched up again. He shrugged. “How would I know what you’re thinking?”

Trick question because Lucas and Dylan had always known what was on the other’s mind. Their moms had even joked about them being separated at birth. It wasn’t difficult. They’d known each other forever.

Dylan eyed him. “Tell me this is not about Avery.”

“What?” Lucas sounded offended, but Dylan caught the sad undertone.

“You’re jealous of Avery. For what reason?” It didn’t make sense, but in a way it did. There’s no way Lucas saw Dylan as anything more than a friend. But something was going on.

“It’s not…. Not that. No.” He shuddered visibly. “I don’t want you. Jesus.”

That only left Avery. Dylan didn’t think Lucas wanted Avery either, but it didn’t stop a warning growl rumbling in his chest.

“Oh, for the love of God, I don’t want Avery either. The kid’s too high maintenance for me. Hell, I’m pretty sure he’s too high maintenance for you too—you just haven’t figured it out yet.”

Dylan gave a huff. “You’re not making any sense.” He wasn’t going to deny the high maintenance remark. Avery was beyond that. But
too
high maintenance for Dylan? Not by a long shot. Dylan could handle his mate. He had his ways.

“It’s not either of you.” Lucas shook his head. “It’s… it’s both of you.”

Dylan squinted at him, even more confused than before.

“Together.” He sighed. “It’s just… how is it fair that you never wanted a mate but Avery was basically gift wrapped for you and set on your doorstep?”

“Not exactly gift wrapped, man, but okay.”

“And I know fate doesn’t bless every wolf with their mate, but I’ve known since I was a pup part of my soul was out there somewhere. I’ve felt it.” He swallowed hard enough Dylan heard it. “Why haven’t I found him yet? Why hasn’t he found me? It doesn’t make sense, and it’s not… it’s not….”

“Fair,” Dylan finished for him, nodding. “I get it. It’s not. You’re right.”

“I’m so damn tired of it. Do you remember that last guy I dated?”

“Perry?”

“Yeah. Him. That was over a year ago, D. When we got together, I knew he wasn’t it. I’m just so tired of trying and ending up as everyone’s friend. I want more. Is it too much for me to want
my
happy ending?”

“God, Luc. I want to tell you to give it more time, to wait it out, but what kind of hypocrite would that make me? I don’t have magic words or promises. If you say he’s out there, then he’s out there. It’s up to you what you want to do with that.” Dylan felt like an asshole for not having more. He’d give just about anything to see Lucas find what he’d been looking for.

He shook his head, then spoke like he hadn’t heard what Dylan had said. Or didn’t want to. “What does that make me? I can’t see you and Avery together without wishing it was me. Not that I want either of you, but what you have. It’s selfish and ridiculous. I know, but I can’t help it.”

Dylan waited for him to finish, then made sure he was listening. “You are not selfish. You’re hopeful. There’s a man out there for you and you know it. Apparently you’ve always known it. Fate works in fucked-up ways, my friend. Avery and I are proof of that. I don’t know why he was given to me when he was. I can only say I was given something I never knew I needed exactly when I needed him.”

“Maybe you and Avery are the exception.” Lucas turned the truck into his drive. Dylan hadn’t realized they were already back.

Dylan shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. You might need to wait it out—live your life. If you think your man is out there, I believe you. Maybe he needs more time.”

They didn’t say anything more while they unloaded the motorcycle. Lucas’s mood had lifted slightly, thankfully. Dylan could only hope with time Lucas would find his happiness again. And with any luck, maybe his mate would find him.

IT WAS
later than usual when Dylan walked into the quiet darkness of the house he shared with his mate. He shouldn’t have been surprised Avery wasn’t home, but maybe he was a little disappointed.

Dylan didn’t begrudge Avery his job. He was glad he’d found something he wanted to do, something he was good at. Though still wet behind the ears, it was clear Avery had found his calling. Avery had the freedom he needed to find who he was, and time and resources to continue his search. Plus Dylan trusted Reid to take care of him. The falcon shifter, no matter his small stature—well, smaller than Dylan, larger than Avery—was shrewd and deadly. He watched out for Avery when Dylan wasn’t there, and that sealed it for Dylan. He and Reid had an unspoken understanding: if anything were to happen to Avery, it would be Reid who paid. All the cunning in the world wouldn’t save the bird of prey from Dylan’s wolf.

Exhausted from his day with Lucas, Dylan walked into the kitchen. Cooking wasn’t happening tonight. He had hoped Avery was home so they could go pick up dinner together. Sandwiches it was—for the third night in a row.

His phone rang as he reached the fridge. Checking the caller ID, he turned around and headed for the door as he answered, grabbing his bike key on the way.

“What’s up, Malik?” Not that Dylan didn’t know. Malik only called for one reason.

“Your man’s at Howl, dressed to kill. I’ve got eyes on him, but we’re understaffed tonight, so I don’t know how long that’ll last.”

“Thanks for the heads-up, man. I’m on my way.” He locked the door behind him and made his way to the custom pitch-black Softail he favored for fast rides.

In Portland, traffic was a crapshoot after ten o’clock. Mostly it depended on the part of town and the night of the week. Luckily it was only a Thursday. The drive was smooth, mist coating his face in a thin layer. Downtown was clear of idiots, in Dylan’s path anyway. He made it to the club without incident, then slipped into Howl, bypassing the usual revelry with a nod.

By now Dylan was used to the pounding bass, the stifling thickness of arousal hanging in the air, and the exorbitant amount of flirting and ass-grabbing he received as he parted the crowd. It was comforting to know some things never changed. Just like he knew exactly where to find Avery, even without calling on their shared bond. Strange how only a few months ago he’d avoided places like Howl as if they carried the plague, and now he was on a first-name basis with half the staff.

Catching Beau’s eye behind the bar, Dylan was pleased when the bartender held out a bottle of water and tipped his chin pointedly to the left. Dylan already knew what he would find. Avery stood at the end of the bar, scoping the crowd, and indulging a blonde woman wearing a too-short dress and fuck-me heels.
Wrong tree, doll.
Dylan headed to the second level to keep an eye on him while he worked. He didn’t want to get in the way—simply make sure Avery was safe.

Months ago, when he’d gotten the first call from Malik, Dylan had caused an epic scene. Avery clubbing without him wasn’t the problem, not anymore. He’d learned to trust Avery. It was only that Dylan worried.

The trafficking ring was still out there, and neither Dylan nor Avery had a clue who they were or what they knew or didn’t know about Avery’s identity. Had they known he was in the warehouse? Avery had been lucky to cover his tracks with Detective Wallace’s help, and he said he hadn’t remembered seeing anyone other than the guards and Melnyk, but admittedly he’d been brought in unconscious. Plus, who knew what the real boss even looked like?

None of it helped Dylan’s sanity, though. He knew he was obsessive with his need to protect Avery. In hindsight, demanding Avery stay home at night in the name of safety had probably been overkill and had been ignored. He didn’t blame Avery. He would’ve been pissed if Avery had done the same. But damn, the first night it’d happened, Dylan had lost his shit. Good thing his mate had been the levelheaded one.

Since then, they’d agreed to disagree. Avery was determined to hunt for that Troy asshole—the missing “boyfriend” to the kidnapped girls and supposed mule for the trafficking ring. On nights like that, Dylan usually received a phone call or text from a bouncer or bartender at whichever club Avery frequented. Dylan had several of them on the lookout. He didn’t assist in Avery’s investigation, but he had one job when it came to Avery and his search: keep Avery safe.

So this night, just like each one before, Dylan watched and waited while Avery sipped his drink and seemed to be having a good time. Only Dylan knew of Avery’s frustration and fear of failure because he felt it as if it were his own. It was one of the reasons he didn’t object to Avery continuing his search for Lacey. He felt Avery’s need to accomplish this, his need to mean something, to do something right and good. Dylan uncapped his bottle and took a drink, settling in to watch his mate. He had no doubt Avery felt his overprotective instincts and likely knew exactly where he was. Avery never sought him out, but Dylan knew he sensed him, and that was enough for now.

IT WAS
funny what being mated did to Avery’s view of the club scene. He remembered all the nights he and Jaden had run wild, hooking up with the hottest guys they could find. Getting off had always been his top priority. He’d wanted to unwind, have fun, lose himself in music and lust. Now, while he could admire and appreciate some of the men at Howl, Dylan still put every one of them to shame. If they weren’t his mate, Avery wasn’t interested. The other men might as well have blank faces.

Was that what love did? It certainly changed sex in unexpected ways—made it feel better and mean more. And Avery loved Dylan, even if the actual words hadn’t been exchanged yet. He felt it every day.

Avery didn’t come to Howl looking to score anymore. He might come with Jaden to dance on occasion, but his days of hooking up were over. Surprisingly, he didn’t miss it. He was happy—
truly
happy—in a way he’d never been before back in his posh, expensive loft when he thought he was living the high life. Sure, he missed the money sometimes. Being able to buy what he wanted when he wanted was a luxury he’d taken for granted, and it would be another year and a half before he found himself in that position again. But what he had with Dylan…. Avery liked to think he would’ve given up his entire trust fund if he’d had even the tiniest inkling of how good they could be together the first time they’d met. Well, probably.

Luckily, they’d gotten there in the end, stumbles, prickles, and all. Not that their relationship was without flaws. Not that they didn’t have their issues. They did. But the arguments, the personality clashes, the make ups, the compromises—they were part of it. Part of what made them Dylan and Avery, and what made them perfect for each other.

He knew Dylan hated Howl and hated when Avery went there alone, especially because it had become Avery’s Achilles heel of sorts, or maybe the albatross around his neck. It was where he’d met Troy all those months ago. Troy, the one person connected to the trafficking ring who had been physically seen with Lacey, who might possibly know where she’d been taken.