Ryker nodded. “That’s right.”
“How long have you been together?”
There was a tension in the air suddenly, and Dylan wished he had a drink or something to occupy his hands and mouth.
August and Ryker looked at each other.
“Ten years, officially?” Ryker said, like he needed to check. August nodded.
“That’s right.” He grinned. “But we’ve been together since we were about fourteen. We knew right from the start that we belonged together.”
Dylan barely had time to feel excluded before Ryker looked at him meaningfully.
“Though of course we also knew that we’d need to find a third. August and I are like two pieces of a puzzle. We go together, but we need a third piece to really work.”
Dylan didn’t dare read too much into the significant looks Ryker and August were sending him, though the fact that they were looking for a third for their relationship – and not just for sexy fun-times – sparked a flare of hope he didn’t like to examine too closely.
“So were you guys part of a pack?” Dylan asked, moving the conversation along.
He didn’t know a lot about werewolves, but he knew that there was a big difference between living in a pack and living in neutral territory. What those differences were, he’d never quite understood.
“Yes, though we went to different elementary and middle schools. We didn’t actually meet until we started high school.” August stroked his chin. “We met, had a huge fight over something or other, and then became inseparable. Our parents had mates lined up for us, but we refused and left to be on our own the second we turned twenty-one.”
“Made our own pack, with just the two of us,” Ryker added.
“Was that hard?” Dylan was a little shocked that werewolves had arranged marriages. He was sure that wasn’t a widely known fact.
August shook his head. “No, not really. Ryker and I are both alphas, so we can function independently as long as we have each other.”
Dylan frowned. He’s always thought that alpha was a title bestowed in the pack leader, not something you could just be.
“Do you have a question?” Ryker asked. He looked amused, and not at all offended at the idea of having to explain what Dylan was sure were simple facts about werewolves.
“What does it mean, that you’re alphas?” He took a breath, hoping he wasn’t saying something offensive. “I thought alphas were the leaders of the pack?”
“They are,” August said, grinning. “But in order to become the alpha of a pack, you have to be born an alpha.”
“We’re just like other werewolves, except a little more independent.”
“And dominant,” August added, smirking. “Alphas like to be in charge. It’s why we either tend to enter into the pack leadership hierarchy or set off on our own.”
“So are all the werewolves who live in the city here alphas?”
Ryker nodded. “Yes. Either that, or they live here with an alpha in a mini pack.”
Dylan wondered if Steve was an alpha, or if he had an alpha of his own. Thinking about him, remembering the way he’d leaned in and threatened to spank him, Dylan was pretty sure it was the former.
Steve – the waiter, not the werewolf – came back into the private room, carrying a tray laden with drinks and bottles.
“Here you go, gentlemen.” Steve served them their drinks, setting the bottles of water and the bottle of wine on the table. “Would you like me to open the wine now, or wait until the food arrives?”
“Later,” Ryker said, tasting his beer.
“In that case, may I take your orders?”
They went around the table, ordering their appetizers and main courses. Steve nodded and left, closing the door after him.
Dylan reached for his glass of Diet Coke, the ice clinking against the glass as he lifted it to his lips.
