“Rest your good hand on my shoulder so you don’t overbalance,” he said, reaching out to help him into the pants.
Adri swore, his eyes flashing a bright green as his jaguar showed through. Instead of bracing himself on Rafe’s shoulder like he’d asked, Adri tugged at the towel around his waist, letting it drop to the floor. His mate’s cock—ridged, hard and dripping with pre-cum—now swung in front of Rafe’s face, taunting him. Close enough that all he’d have to do was let his long tongue flick out of his mouth, and he’d be able to lick the liquid off its tip. He wasn’t about to give Marco a show, though. No matter how much his Alpha would enjoy it.
Tapping Adri’s foot, he forced himself to look down and focus on only the task before him—getting his mate dressed. As he pulled the soft fabric up Adri’s muscled legs, it took every inch of willpower he possessed to resist the siren’s call waving in front of his face.
“Not going to lick me clean so I don’t make a wet patch on them?” Adri teased.
Rafe rolled his eyes, smiling despite himself. Was that bratting or catting? Was there any difference? His jaguar was going to be more than a handful.
Marco was waiting for them in the kitchen when they emerged, leaning back on the counter as he sipped a cup of coffee.
“I figured you’d want to feed him yourself, so I didn’t start dinner,” Marco said.
Rafe tipped his head in thanks and headed to the fridge to grab the soup he’d prepared earlier, chucking some hastily assembled garlic bread in the oven as it heated.
“So, what did you actually stop by for?” Rafe asked Marco as he worked, keeping an eye on Adri as he went.
Adri must’ve tired himself out because he sank onto a chair to watch their exchange.
“I wanted to ask if you’re aware of any medical intervention that could’ve caused Adrien’s opponent to turn feral last night.”
Rafe froze before turning to face Marco fully. He’d never heard of such a thing. No one with any sense wanted to mess around with a feral shifter.
“You think someone did that to him on purpose?”
“We’ve had intel that the D-2S has been running some kind of medical experimentation. It’s too much of a coincidence to think that such a public, unexpected episode followed immediately by a police raid isn’t related.”
A low rumbling growl filled the room from where Adri sat. “They’re targeting my people?” he asked.
Rafe sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The last thing he needed was Adri having another reason to run off on him. His mate was far too protective of his fellow fighters.
“I’ll look into it and see if the Council’s medical archives mention anything useful. It would help if I had a body to examine,” Rafe said.
“I can’t help you there. Silas took him straight to the crematorium. We couldn’t risk it spreading if he healed,” Marco said.
“Next time, contain them so I can figure out if there’s a cause.”
Marco frowned. “I’m really hoping there’s not a next time.”
“Do you have anything else to go on?” Adri asked as Rafe and Marco joined him at the table with their food.
Marco shook his head. “Things have been a mess with the police raid and everything else. We’ve been too busy diverting attention so that the Council doesn’t get involved. Luca hasn’t had a chance to dig into the fighter’s digital footprint to see if there’s anything suspicious there. Did you know him well?”
Rafe did his best to focus on his food when every instinct in him was screaming to go pull his stressed mate into his lap and nuzzle into his throat.
“No, we hadn’t trained together yet. He was pretty new to the circuit. There were whispers he’d come from an unsanctioned fighting ring. He was having conversations with some of the younger guys that I didn’t like. Ones that only took place in quiet corners of the locker room and stopped when I got close enough to hear,” Adri said.
Marco scowled. “There’s another fighting ring operating in the city, and you didn’t tell me?” he snapped.
Rafe’s fangs lengthened despite himself, and he placed his cutlery down before his whitening knuckles could give him away. He’d sat between his mate and his Alpha by instinct. He was glad he had now, because it meant he didn’t have to give himself away by lunging between them.
“Chill, Doc. I can handle myself,” Adri muttered.
A flush spread up Rafe’s cheeks as he realised he’d been subvocalising a growl. “Sorry, Alpha,” he said to Marco, baring his throat.
Marco stared at him, assessing. “Do Carter and I need to continue this conversation elsewhere?”
“No. I’m fine.”
