“Pepperoni and meatball,” August said. “And mushrooms. Lots of mushrooms.”
“Pizza sounds good,” Dylan added.
“Steve?” Ryker prompted.
“I could eat,” Steve said. He was looking at Dylan with an expression like he couldn’t believe he was real.
“I’ll be right back.” Ryker climbed off the bed, reaching for his phone to see where the nearest pizza place was. He put on his boots as he searched through the results, finding a place just down the street that had good reviews. He grabbed his coat and Steve’s keys and headed out, stopping in the doorway to look at his mates as they cuddled on the bed.
Things were pretty fucked up right now, but seeing how Steve and Dylan were coming together in their worry for each other, both of them more concerned with each other’s feelings than their own, Ryker was sure that they would be okay in the end.
He’d make sure of it.
51
AUGUST
Ryker and Steve were off to attend the funeral of Steve’s father, leaving August and Dylan to wait around in the hotel room before the four of them took the pack’s private jet back to Fort Plainslac.
“Would you like some leftover pizza?” August asked, crouching down in front of the mini fridge in the little kitchen area. They still had half a pizza left over from the night before, and neither one of them had eaten breakfast.
“Sure,” Dylan said, coming out of the bathroom and taking a seat on the bed. He gathered up all the pillows and used them to construct a throne-like seat for himself by the headboard. “Is there any Diet Coke left?”
August looked under the pizza and found a single remaining can of Diet Coke. He grabbed it and took a regular Coke for himself, after which he rose up and carried the pizza and cans of soda over to the bed. He grinned.
“Breakfast is served.”
Dylan sat up a little straighter and crossed his feet under him, looking at the pizza box with a hungry expression. August set the box down on the bed and climbed up on the mattress, taking a seat across from Dylan and making himself comfortable.
He handed Dylan his can of Diet Coke, biting back a grin at the sheer bliss on Dylan’s face as he opened it up and took a gulping sip.
“Good?” he asked, making Dylan blush.
“Very.” Dylan set the can down so that it rested in his lap and reached for the pizza.
August watched him, taking a moment to assess how Dylan was really doing and examining the bite on his neck. Dylan’s even-keeled mood didn’t seem feigned, and other than an awkward moment when Ryker and Steve were leaving to go to the funeral, he seemed much better than he had the night before.
There was no sign of a concussion.
The bite on his neck had also healed unexpectedly well. Instead of the angry, raised scar tissue that Dylan had gone to sleep with, the mark from John’s teeth had faded to barely noticeable white patches of skin that were completely smooth to the touch.
It didn’t even look like a bite mark anymore.
August looked at his and Ryker’s marks, a feeling of smug satisfaction welling up inside of him. His mark was still very visible, and very obviously made by the teeth of an alpha werewolf.
“How are you feeling?” August asked, taking a slice of pizza.
Dylan took a sip of his Diet Coke, taking a minute to think over his answer.
“Better?” He sounded almost confused about it. “Is it weird that I feel like I should be feeling worse?”
“How so?” August asked.
Dylan frowned. “I killed Steve’s dad. Even though he was trying to hurt me, I should feel bad about that, right?”
“I don’t think so,” August said. “You did what you had to do to protect yourself. There’s nothing to feel guilty about.”
Dylan wrinkled his nose, peeling a piece of pepperoni off his pizza slice and playing with it.
