Riley’s stomach was rumbling. Breakfast had been good, but it had been a hell of a long time ago. Dave passed him a plate, and he glanced back to check if Jason needed one. Only to suck in his breath with something that was damn near a snarl as he narrowed his eyes—Bryce, that goddamn asshole, was crowding Jason back against the table, his hand on Jason’s shoulder as he leaned in close to him, saying something in a low voice that had Jason flushing.
Riley stalked over to them and slammed his plate down on the table so hard he was surprised it didn’t break. “You,” he said, and stepped into Bryce’s space. “Back off. Right the fucknow.” He glared into Bryce’s eyes, not fooled for a single second by his assumed surprise.
Bryce took a step backward, hands raised slightly. “Just teasing your boyfriend,” he said, and winced. “Not like that—in a fraternal, brotherly, fellow pack member sort of way. Okay?”
Riley glowered up at him and moved against Jason, till they were standing so close he could feel the heat from Jason’s body.
“Riley,” Jason said, and he sounded as if he was soothing a fractious dog. “It’s okay. I guess we’re just more hands-on than non-shifters—it’s the whole pack thing. Bryce didn’t mean anything by it.”
Jesse came to stand beside Bryce, his gaze steady and challenging on Riley. “Bryce don’t poach. None of us do.”
Riley realized he was somehow getting into a standoff with a bunch of wolves, and he didn’t even knowwhy.
“Sorry,” he said, and he could suddenly breathe again. It was like coming up from being underwater. “I don’t know—I’m not sure where that came from.”
Jesse gave him one last, measuring look, then ambled off, tossing a comment over his shoulder that Riley didn’t catch but which made Bryce laugh.
Riley realized he was still standing too close to Jason—practically plastered to him—long after Bryce and Jesse had wandered back to the grill. The burn of embarrassment crawled up his neck. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d reacted like he had some kind of claim, as if Jason belonged to him.
Jason gave him a sidelong glance, half amused, half fond, and Riley wanted to sink into the ground.
“Sorry,” Riley muttered under his breath, grabbing for his plate as cover. “Guess I’m not used to the whole pack thing.”
“It’s okay,” Jason said simply, no trace of judgment in his voice. Just that accepting, easy presence Riley had come to crave.
Riley willed the tension out of his shoulders as laughter floated back from the grill. Like nothing had happened. Like Riley hadn’t just made himself look like a jealous jerk. He kept his gaze on his plate. Never thought dishes could be so interesting. Get a grip, Clark.
But as he got a grip, the word Jesse had used echoed in his ears. Poach. That was exactly what he was doing, sneaking in, so he could take something from them. The sick irony of it churned in his gut.
Until he remembered Amy’s words—They’ll play their Argent card at the point of maximum impact.They’re going to end up raising hell.And he wasn’t entirely sure she’d meant that figuratively.
Jason might trust all of them implicitly, but Riley knew better. Under all the casual ribbing and brotherhood, secrets sat like landmines. The pack didn’t have clean hands. So yeah, maybe he was lying to Jason. But Jason’s pack? They were lying to the world.
Remembering that, he regained his balance. His conscience was still niggling him over Jason, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that.
“You two gonna keep standin’ there like you’re welded together, or are you fixin’ to try some of Jason’s ribs?” Jesse called over, and Riley thanked God for the change of subject. “Cause that glaze he puts on them, hell, it’s better than sex.”
“I heard that, Turner,” Urban growled.
“You were s’posed to. Still hopin’ you’ll manage to change my mind one of these days,” Jesse shot back at him, sauntering over to fill a plate with ribs.
Riley raised his eyebrows at Jason. “Is he allowed to speak to the pack alpha that way?” he asked quietly. Everyone had been relaxed and joking easily all afternoon, but there was no mistaking the respect they all showed Urban.
“That’s Jesse for you,” Jason said fondly. “Some days, I think Matt’s the only one whocouldkeep him in line. Though to hear Matt talk, it’s a miracle he hasn’t wrung Jesse’s neck yet.”
“Why hasn’t he?” Riley asked. From his observations of Matt Urban, he didn’t think he would tolerate insubordination. Urbanhad been pissed at Jason for missingdinner, for God’s sake, and then Jesse got away with speaking to him like that?
“They’re mates,” Jason said, as if it was obvious. He paused, his brow wrinkling. “It’s more than that, though. I think it’s because no one on this earth loves or respects Matt more than Jesse does, and they both know it.”
“Mates?” Riley asked cautiously. He knew about shifters having mates—who didn’t?—but he’d also found out since coming to Elk Ridge that he didn’t know as much about shifters as he’d thought. He’d rather hear it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.
Jason led the way over to the grill, where they both piled plates high, before retreating to sit together, slightly away from the rest of the pack. And there, Jason told Riley about mates.
Honestly, it sounded like Grade A bullshit to Riley, the idea that people could be destined to be together. He figured the whole idea had been dreamed up by someone burned out by the dating scene—and he didn’t entirely blame them. It was carnage out there.
But it was evident Jason believed in mates from the soft, almost reverent way he spoke about them. So he let Jason tell him, and for once, he didn’t roll his eyes or argue. Because even if he didn’t believe, Jason clearly did.
Somehow—and Riley hadnoidea how—their conversation turned into him kissing glaze from the ribs off Jason’s lips. They sat together as dusk fell, talking quietly and kissing every now and then, and Riley thought this might be the best day of his life.
