It was infuriating.
Steve should have badmouthed them to Dylan. He’d had the chance to shape his opinion – Dylan hadn’t knownanythingabout them – but rather than try to sabotage the competition, he’d told him that he could do worse.
He was such an idiot!
At least he’d asked for a date. He’d pushed past the instincts screaming at him that Dylan was spoken for, and he’d shot his shot.
The fact that Dylan had rejected him didn’t mean he regretted trying.
The fact of the matter was that Steve should have asked Dylan out when he had the chance. Dylan had been in a hurry, sure, but Steve had long legs. He could have walked with him and been a little more persistent.
But he hadn’t. He’d acted like a nice guy and listened when Dylan brushed him off, and now Dylan was walking around town looking like his neck was a werewolf chew toy.
Steve stopped and took a breath. He’d been stomping down the sidewalk like a raging bull and people were giving him nervous looks. The last thing he needed was a complaint against him. He started walking again, slower this time, and did his best to keep his expression neutral.
That effort went right out the window when he spotted Ryker Sterling himself walking toward him, looking fancy in an expensive suit, overcoat and sleek leather gloves.
He looked like such an asshole.
Ryker noticed him back, slowing his gait to a cocky saunter. He grinned, looking at Steve like he was amused by his presence, and Steve almost lost it.
This was the kind of guy Dylan wanted? A smarmy sugar daddy who spent his full moons squatting on public territory?
It took everything Ryker had not to bare his teeth.
“Officer Blake.” Ryker walked up to him, thumbs hooked in the wide pockets of his expensive overcoat. “You’re looking chipper today.”
“Fuck you, Ryker.”
Steve didn’t have it in him to engage in their usual bickering. Ryker’s brows lifted, his grin turning into a mocking smirk.
“Language, Steve.” He took a step closer, walking right to the edge of Steve’s personal space. “You don’t want to make us werewolves look bad, now do you?”
Ryker smelled like Dylan. It lingered in his scent, like he’d made the boy come and then rolled around in the mess. The resulting scent was an intoxicating mix of Dylan’s heady pheromones and Ryker’s spicy musk.
Steve saw red.
“I thought your date wasn’t until tonight?” he accused, crossing his arms and squaring his stance. He gave Ryker his best glare. “Why do you smell like Dylan?”
Ryker’s cocky smirk slipped off his face, a look of confusion taking its place. The confusion was then replaced by a threatening narrowing of his eyes.
“How do you know Dylan?”
“I’ve known him for longer than you,” Steve growled. “He told me he was going out with you. I told him he could do better.”
He was lying, and Ryker would know he was lying after he talked to Dylan, but it was worth it to see the look on his face.
Ryker pulled his lips back, baring his teeth. They were sharper than they should be, like he was barely holding back his shift, and Steve let his own teeth show in a threatening grin.
They were breaking all the rules. Confrontations happened on the full moon, in werewolf-only spaces, well away from human eyes.
Steve would be in so much trouble if someone got him on tape, in uniform, having a standoff with Ryker. He wouldn’t just lose his job – he wouldn’t be allowed to live in neutral territory anymore, either. He’d have to crawl back to his father and beg him to let him back into the pack.
Forcing himself to rein in his emotions, Steve was startled when Ryker suddenly laughed. The other alpha went from looking angry to looking absolutely delighted.
“He turned you down!” Ryker looked at him with amused pity.
Steve growled, caught wrong footed at the sudden change in Ryker’s mood.
