“Really?” John looked at his son, the air between them tense. He was smiling the same smile he’d flashed at Dylan after shaking him and telling him he wanted to bash his brains in. “How so?”
“You don’t have this problem because Dylan slept with Steve. You have this problem because you had a tantrum when he didn’t want what you had planned for him. You didn’t trust yourself enough not to lash out and hurt him for defying you, and so you sent him away. If you had even an ounce of self-control, none of this would have happened. Steve would be here, we wouldn’t know that Dylan even existed, and we wouldn’t have two alphas we need to invite into our pack.” He pointed an accusing finger at his father. “And you’re not even a little worried that Ryker Sterling will be more dominant than I am – you know that he’s not – you’re worried that Steve will try to leave our pack and join his.”
John sat frozen, glaring at his son. Dylan wondered if he was imagining things, or if John’s teeth were growing sharper.
“He wouldn’t.”
“He might want to.”
A roaring growl erupted from John’s chest, his fury erupting as he leapt from his seat and attacked his son.
Dylan watched in horrified disbelief as John’s body changed. From the moment he left the couch until he was standing, his face distorted and his body swelled to monstrous proportions. His jeans and shirt burst at the seams – his thighs, arms and shoulders stretching and growing thicker – while his boots were torn apart by his suddenly massive wolf-like feet.
Dylan didn’t breathe. He pressed his body back into the armchair, trying to be invisible, and watched in shock as Marcus’s body underwent a similar transformation just in time to meet his father’s attack.
The two werewolves met in a snarling clash of teeth and claws, the violence unrestrained, blood spurting as they ripped into each other with base brutality. The part of Dylan’s ancient lizard-brain that remembered what it was to be prey came alive, screaming at him to freeze and stay hidden at any cost.
After a minute that felt like it stretched on forever, the fight ended with the two of alphas rolling on the floor, their angry growls turning into labored grunts of effort as they each fought to get the upper hand.
Dylan sat frozen in fear, not even breathing.
John finally managed to flip Marcus onto his stomach. For a second it looked like Marcus was going to be able to flip them over again and get back on top, but then John pushed him down with a roar of effort and clamped his teeth down on the back of his neck, making him go still.
Dylan thought for a moment that he’d killed him. His heart raced, the sound of his pulse echoing on his ears, the sight of the horrific beast biting down on Marcus’s neck burned into his mind and sure to give him nightmares for the rest of his life.
But Marcus wasn’t dead. He let out an annoyed grunt, the sound making Dylan slump in relief, and John let go. The winning alpha rose up, wiping his mouth with the back of his clawed hand, looking down at Marcus’s body with a sneer of contempt.
“You need to work on your speed.”
Marcus put his palm on the ground and pushed himself to his feet, standing up and brushing off the front of his shirt.
“So do you,” he said, dismissive. He looked his father up and down. “You’re a mess. Why didn’t you block me when I went for your kidney?”
Marcus was right, Dylan realized. Despite winning the fight, John was in far worse condition than his son. His side was torn to shreds, exposing his ribs, and his right bicep looked like it had been torn in half.
Dylan had to close his eyes to keep himself from throwing up.
“I won,” John growled, defensive.
“This time.”
The two wolfed out werewolves stared at each other, eight and a half feet tall and looking every inch the monsters that humans used to warn their children about in bedtime stories and fairytales, and Dylan braced himself for the fighting to resume.
It didn’t. Instead, Dylan watched as John’s horrific wounds healed in real-time and his skin knitted itself back together. His body shrank, monster-like proportions giving way to something more human, and his face turned back to normal.
After his father shifted back to his human form, Marcus did the same, though his transformation was far more quick. There seemed to be some significance to that, judging by the way John grimaced.
“You were holding back?” John growled, accusing.
“I was fighting smart,” Marcus said. He turned to Dylan, showing his back to his father. “There’s a bathroom at the end of the hall. Go take a quick shower and I’ll leave a change of clothes waiting for you outside the door. When you’re done, we’ll figure out a way to get you home before this turns into an even bigger mess than it already is.”
Dylan blinked. “We will?”
“No. He’s going to-”
Marcus rounded on his dad and held up his hand, cutting him off. “Dad, you are not in the right headspace to deal with this. Let me handle it. Please?”
John’s nostrils flared, his arms tense by his sides as he glared at his son.
