His mother shook her head. “No, but I liked him very much. He was decent, in a way that not many people are. Your father loved him, though. At least I think he did. He’s strange, when it comes to love. He doesn’t show it right.”
Steve had the very uncharitable thought that neither did she, but he didn’t voice it or let any hint of it show on his expression.
“Does Marcus know about this?”
His mother shrugged. “He knows that we had an omega named Corey who lived with us, but I don’t know if he knows the details of how or why he died. They weren’t close. Corey didn’t like children.”
Steve stared at his drink, distressed that he wasn’t having a harder time believing his mother’s story. She was a biased source – he knew that she would present his dad in the worst possible light – but the base accusation, that his father would use his omega’s suffering to control him, was not one he found difficult to believe.
“Ryker would never let something like that happen to Dylan.”
Steve was sure of that. He’d felt Ryker’s wolf in his mind when they formed their mating bond, and he knew that Ryker would never let someone under his protection suffer if there was anything he could do to help them – and he’d never allow himself to be the cause of that suffering.
“Good, but you should get in the habit of dehydrating a mixture of your semen and storing it in capsule form for emergencies. It doesn’t take much to alleviate the symptoms of separation, and a few orgasms can produce enough capsules to last for weeks. Stored in an airtight container in the freezer, they should last pretty much indefinitely.”
Steve made a mental note to buy an industrial dehydrator and to start storing up enough capsules to last Dylan the rest of his natural life.
“I will,” he promised. His mother nodded, turning her gaze back to the darkened window and pouring herself another drink.
Steve wondered what she was thinking.
46
DYLAN
Dylan woke up feeling refreshed, and when he stretched his legs out beneath the covers and turned around to burrow into August’s chest, the pain that had lit up his hole every time he so much as twitched the night before was gone.
Werewolf sperm. It really was good for something.
“Good morning,” August mumbled, half asleep and nuzzling into his hair. “Where are the others?”
Dylan shrugged, tracing his fingers over August’s abdomen. “Not sure.”
Ryker and Steve had both been absent from the bed when he woke up.
August’s stomach rumbled, the vibrations making Dylan’s fingers tickle. He laughed and pulled his hand away.
“We should get breakfast.”
August sighed and squeezed him tight, making a noise of protest in the back of his throat. “But I’m so comfortable.”
“We can stay like this for a bit,” Dylan offered, happy to lie in bed with August and enjoy his company for a bit. It was nice to have some time together where they were physically intimate without sex being on the table.
“No, I need to get some work stuff done before the party today. Mary is probably ready to kill me for missing work and not telling her why, and I need to let Cynthia know that I’ll be back the day after tomorrow so that she doesn’t reschedule more appointments than necessary.”
August sounded put out, but not like it would be problematic. That was the benefit of owning your own business.
Dylan had missed a meeting with his advisor and two slots at the 3D printing lab, but he was sure his advisor would understand. He was more worried about the company sponsoring him being angry at paying for time in the 3D lab, but then he remembered that Steve’s pack owned the company and he could probably get Steve to get someone to excuse the absence.
“I should call Annie,” Dylan said, hoping she wasn’t worried. He’d sent her a text when he’d gotten his phone back, letting her know that he was okay, but they hadn’t had the chance to talk.
He sat up, stretching his back and scratching his thigh as he looked around Steve’s bedroom. He was looking at a picture of Steve in his high school football uniform when he realized that he wasn’t feeling any pain in his hole whatsoever.
Even when he sat directly on his ass, he didn’t feel so much as a twinge.
He wondered if the effect of werewolf come on healing was cumulative, or if there was a ceiling for how much good it could do.
“What are you doing?” August asked, and Dylan realized that he’d been wriggling his butt, grinding down on the mattress in an attempt to provoke some kind of pain. He must look like a lunatic.
