He jogged in place, body thrumming with pent up energy, and wrestled with himself whether or not he should go up and introduce himself.
Ryker didn’t need to interrogate the boy. He just wanted to see for himself what had August so enchanted.
Before he could second guess himself, Ryker jogged up the steps to the front door and rang the bell for Dylan’s apartment.
August was going to be so pissed at him.
“Hello?”
A staticky voice came out of the old speaker, along with a screech that had Ryker wincing and taking a step back.
“Hello. This is Ryker Sterling, you met my mate August Schaffer a few days ago. I was wondering if I could come in and have a word with you?”
Ryker winced. He sounded like a lunatic.
“Is there a problem?”
Dylan sounded nervous, and Ryker didn’t blame him. What kind of person in this day and age showed up unannounced at a stranger’s house?
“No, I just wanted to introduce myself before our date on Wednesday.”
There was a pause, followed by the click of the lock in the door.
“All right. I’m on the second floor.”
Ryker grinned, relieved that he hadn’t been told to fuck off. He opened the door and walked into the lobby, frowning at how shabby it looked.
There were cracked tiles on the floor and peeling paint on the walls, and an unpleasant musty smell saturated the air.
The tiny cage elevator to his left looked like a death trap.
Taking the stairs, Ryker jogged up to the second floor. He opened the door leading off the landing, the hinges letting out a horrible squeak.
He wondered why no one had oiled them. It would take two seconds and it would make a huge difference.
Stepping through the door, shooting the rusty hinges a look of disdain, Ryker made his way into a dingy hallway. A short figure was peeking out from behind a door halfway down the corridor, just his eyes and a tuft of hair visible from behind the wooden frame.
That had to be Dylan. Ryker put on his most charming grin, careful not to show too much teeth, and walked toward him.
The door opened further and Dylan stepped into view. To Ryker’s relief, he looked a good five years older than he had in his driver’s license photo. He’d lost the baby fat in his face, and his hair was a little shorter, though it still had that fluffy, soft look that made Ryker want to thread his fingers through it, form a fist, andtug.
His waist was just as slim and slutty as August had described.
Ryker breathed in through his nose, taking in the boy’s scent and relishing the shudder that ran down his spine.
Mine, his wolf whispered, greedy and forcing Ryker to take another deep breath. His cock twitched against the front of his tight spandex compression pants, his stomach filling with a tingling heat.
Ryker had to hold his breath while he wrestled himself back under control. His wolf was more alert than it had ever been outside of the full moon, animal instincts pushing at him to hunt and claim the boy standing nervously in front of them.
“Hello,” Dylan said, watching Ryker approach with wide eyes.
Dressed in flannel pants and an oversized t-shirt, the latter of which showed off a hint of collar bone, he looked good enough to eat.
There was a bruise on his throat, and Ryker would recognize the imprint of those teeth anywhere.
“Hello. You must be Dylan,” he said, struggling to keep his grin nice.
The boy was bringing out all his most predatory instincts, and he knew that he had a tendency to let that kind of thing show in his smile.
