Wes stared at him for several long seconds, eyes dark and showing everything he’d like to do to Mark in that moment. If only he had justification. With what looked like great effort, Wes shifted back. Out of the corner of his eye, Mark noted Wes’s claws stayed out. “When the council has finished today, I’m going to tell our alpha. You can imagine what he’ll have to say to you.” The idea seemed to fill Wes with delight, and he grinned. “Expect a meeting with him tomorrow. I doubt you’ll be seeing your fuck buddy after that.”
Could Newell stop him from seeing Alec? Could he order him not to if it wasn’t against the rules? Mark’s knowledge of pack policy wasn’t the greatest. “Are you finished? I’ve got work to do. Apparently.”
Wes grinned at him. “Yes you do, don’t you.” He gave Mark a long once-over, his lip curled in distaste. “What the hell does Alec Knight see in you? If I was him, I’d be aiming my sights much higher.”
Mark couldn’t help himself. His shoulder still ached from Wes’s claws, and he’d had about enough after such a long fucking day. “You’re not him, though, are you?” Wes’s fists curled at his sides, but Mark didn’t stop. “You’ll never be half the beta he is because he has the respect of his alpha and his pack—”
Wes moved like lightning, beta speed propelling him forward before Mark could react, backhanding him so hard Mark bit through his tongue and smashed face-first into the far wall.
Motherfucker.
He should really learn to keep his mouth shut.
Wes came for him again. Scrambling to his feet, Mark ducked out of the way as fast as he could, but not quickly enough. Claws scraped across his neck, tearing through the skin. He’d assumed from Wes’s size—wide across the shoulders and chest—that he wouldn’t be all that quick, but he was. Mark could fight, but apparently so could Wes, and unlike Mark, he had absolutely no qualms about doing so.
Underestimating him was going to hurt.
Springing to his feet, Mark successfully dodged the next blow, and fuck it, he had to fight back. When Wes came at him again, Mark was ready, catching him with a kick to his ankle. Wes stumbled, arms flung out to balance himself, leaving his side wide open. Mark danced forward, slashing his claws across Wes’s unprotected ribs and left four ragged cuts in his wake.
Wes roared and swung around to face him, safely out of Mark’s reach. He glanced down at his side where the bleeding had slowed to a trickle, the wounds slowly knitting themselves back together. He grinned. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”
Mark scoffed. “Come closer, let me show you what else I can do.”
“If the council didn’t want to see you at some point, I’d rip your throat out right here. No one would give a fuck if you suddenly disappeared.”
“I have a fucking family. I think they’d notice if I stopped answering their calls.”
Wes’s smile turned sly. “Like your cousin?”
“He’s more like a brother, so yes I think he’d miss me.”
ThehmmWes responded with stopped Mark’s anger in its tracks. What the fuck did that mean?
Wes advanced on him, slower this time, hands raised to show human fingertips. Mark eyed him warily.
“This—” Wes waved his hand between them. “—never happened. If you tell anyone, I’ll say you attacked me after refusing to obey your alpha’s command. It’ll be your word against mine, and you know how that’ll go.” He laughed at Mark’s glare.
With no way to prove what happened, no blame could be apportioned. Their wounds would have healed by then anyway. Most alphas didn’t concern themselves with fights unless they kept happening. He couldn’t see Newell giving a fuck, or if he did, he’d support his beta. Mark slumped against the wall with a sigh.
Taking it as agreement, Wes walked up to him. “Thought you’d see it my way.” He patted him on the cheek and Mark swallowed the urge to bite his hand off. “Now get those fucking accounts done. They should keep you busy tonight.”
He tapped Mark on the cheek again, then turned and casually headed for the door, as though Mark posed no threat at all.
The thought of being hauled up in front of twelve angry alphas was the only thing that kept Mark from jumping on Wes’s back and sinking his teeth deep into his neck. Even then it was close. He dug his claws into the wall behind him in an effort not to move, staying that way until he heard Wes jog down the stairs and out the door.
“Fucking bastard!” Mark growled the words to the empty room. He wanted to rip through the sofa and throw things, anything to let out some of the anger coursing through him. Instead he rested his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.
Wes was such a dick.
Not for the first time, Mark wished his parents had chosen to stay with R-pack. What the hell had they seen in Steven Newell?
Slowly his temper cooled enough for Mark’s violent urges to disappear, and he took a good look around the rest of the flat. A spare uniform hung in the wardrobe, just like Wes said, and it was exactly Mark’s size. Fucker.
The place was small but nice enough. It wasn’t that much of a hardship being stuck there, but he hated being ordered around like a pet. Why couldn’t Newell have sent Jason to talk to him? He couldn’t be with the council all bloody day. Why send Wes?
Catching his reflection in the bathroom mirror, Mark paused and peered closer. His shirt was in tatters around the neck and shoulder. The wounds underneath had all but closed, but they’d ache for a few more hours. The remnants of blood lingered in his mouth. His tongue had healed, but he’d need a drink to get rid of the taste.
First he swapped his ripped shirt for the spare one. Then, with a glass of water in hand, Mark sat down on the sofa and stared at the laptop. The last thing he felt like doing was more fucking work, but he couldn’t afford to piss off Newell, and he didn’t want another run-in with Wes the Wanker. His phone had somehow survived being in his pocket, and he pulled it out to message Jason. And maybe Will.
