“We should take a shower,” August said, looking at his phone. “Steve is picking us up in twenty minutes.”
“Did you get anything to eat?” Ryker asked, lifting Dylan off his lap and climbing off the bed. Dylan stared at his soft cock as it dangled between his legs, the veiny length making his mouth water.
“Do you want to go another round?” August asked, making Dylan jump. He hadn’t realized that August was watching him.
“No!” he exclaimed, suddenly aware of how sore his throat and jaw felt. He bit his lip. “I was just looking.”
“He’s allowed to look without us taking it as an invitation,” Ryker said. He grabbed a packet of beef jerky from one of the shopping bags and tore into it, moving his hips and making his cock swing from side to side. The grin on his face as he devoured the beef jerky and showed off his cock was about as playful as Dylan had ever seen him.
“You’re very relaxed,” August commented, grabbing a packet of beef jerky for his own. He held one up for Dylan, and when Dylan nodded, he tossed it at him along with a bottle of water. He turned to Ryker. “You were so focused earlier.”
“I’m still focused,” Ryker promised. He stopped chewing and shrugged. “I’m just not as anxious now that we have Dylan back with us.”
Dylan felt a wave of regret that he hadn’t listened to Ryker and August when they told him to get off the plane.
“As long as you keep your head in the game,” August said.
“It is.” Ryker shoved the rest of the beef jerky stick in his mouth and reached for another. He looked at August. “Don’t worry. It’s not like I have to beat John or his son – other son, you know what I mean. I’ve got this.”
* * *
Two hours later, Dylan was seated on the back porch of Steve’s father’s house, bundled up in a thick winter coat, gloves and padded snow-pants, his heart thumping with worry as he watched Ryker and Marcus circle each other.
Both alphas were shirtless and barefoot, dressed in matching black shorts, neither one of them seeming to notice the biting cold or the crunch of snow beneath their feet.
Ryker was still bleeding from the wound on his shoulder where Steve’s father had claimed him – the skin slowly knitting together right before Dylan’s eyes – while Marcus had a huge gash down his back and a thin scar running down the length of his face that hadn’t been there the last time that Dylan had seen him.
“I like you,” Marcus said, his fangs glinting as he grinned dangerously. Dylan had to strain his ears to hear him. “But are you good enough for my little brother?”
Ryker shrugged, loosening his shoulders and swinging his arms. He was grinning, his fangs glinting dangerously in the afternoon light.
“I’d like to think so,” Ryker said. He flexed his fingers, allowing his claws to pop out. “But let’s find out.”
Dylan was completely unprepared for the explosion of violence that followed. Both alphas surged forward as though someone had screamedgo, shifting into their alpha forms and tearing into each other with growling snarls.
Ryker was an inch or two shorter than Marcus when he shifted, but his shoulders were wider, and he looked no less impressive. Dylan stared at his wide back, huge arms and tree-trunk thighs, his gaze drawn to the way Ryker’s skimpy black shorts now hugged his ass tight. Then Marcus grabbed Ryker with a claw to his thigh and lifted him up in the air, throwing him across the yard and launching at him with inhuman speed, and Dylan forgot all about how nice Ryker’s ass looked.
He bit back a scream, watching as Ryker rolled away to avoid Marcus’s attack, grabbing him and pulling him into his body so that he could try to roll on top of him.
“He’s good,” Steve’s father said, sitting a little ways down on the porch and watching the fight with a frown.
“Marcus can take him,” Steve responded, his voice confident. Dylan glanced over at August, studying his tight jaw and noticing that despite his tension, he didn’t look worried.
Dylan relaxed and turned back to the fight, flinching when Ryker used his claws to slice Marcus open from his thigh and all the way up to his hip. Marcus retaliated by grabbing Ryker by his ear and climbing on top of him, slamming him into the ground as he bit down on the side of his neck.
Ryker slammed his fist into Marcus’s head, though the angle was all wrong and even Dylan could tell that he wasn’t getting enough force behind the blows to do anything. After a few seconds of Marcus clamping down on his neck, Ryker went still.
Marcus let go, jumping up with a wide, toothy grin on his face and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before he reached down to help Ryker stand up. There was blood dripping off his claws, and Dylan shuddered in disgust at the grizzly sight.
Ryker took the proffered mitt and pulled himself to his feet. He gave himself a shake, wiping his neck where Marcus had bit him, looking perfectly happy to have lost the fight as he flicked the drops of blood on his hand onto the snow.
He turned to Marcus and said something, making Marcus’s grin widen, but the words were spoken too quietly for Dylan to hear what he said. Then, just as suddenly as they had shifted into their alpha forms, both Marcus and Ryker shrank back down to their normal bodies.
“Excellent!” Dylan bit back a scream of surprise as Steve’s father rose up and clapped his hands together, looking thrilled. John turned to his son. “Did you see that? Now that was a fight. You did good, boy. An alpha like that will be an asset to the pack.”
Steve smiled, but he didn’t look as thrilled as his father. “Thanks, Dad.”
John nodded, clapping Steve on the back before walking down the steps to greet Marcus and Ryker on the snow-covered lawn.
