Seems I still try to get over the worst as early as possible.
Chapter 22
Stress Test
NATHAN
Iprefer to keep my cards close to my chest, investing time and thought before making a move, because one rarely gets a chance to take things back. Words cannot be unsaid or unheard, nor deeds undone. So many of my clients come seeking divorce or separation from a pack because a single word, phrase, or deed pushed them beyond the point of no return.
The raw truths Dan throws at Corin and me are appalling—yet oddly appealing somehow, especially given how often people lie to me. Clients, especially, though over half the time they’re lying to themselves as well as me, and it takes time and a lot of delicate probing to extract salient information. The sheer volume of honesty Dan shared, and his insight into what’s important to share under the circumstances, makes him most unusual.
He obviously has no idea how puzzling he comes across. Sitting there, blinking at us, head swiveling back and forth as he glances at Corin then me, meeting our eyes with little sign of difficulty. Oh, he played the game with us earlier, divvyingup the room into thirds, but even then the air of indulgent dominance hanging about him ruffled my alpha. Unsettled him.
Intriguedhim ... and me.
Still does, in face, as the three of us sit staring at each other in the wake of Dan’s admissions.
We’re strangers. Not as unknown to each other as before, but at best we knew each other in passing before we entered this room.
Even as three mature alphas, we must get through a certain amount of posturing to determine who ranks as primary in any given area. Betas sometimes make the mistake of thinking it’s a static thing, a clear chain of command, unless someone decides to promote themselves or a dominant alpha gets sick or injured requiring adjustments.
That’s far from the truth. Negotiation is a constant, even when alphas know each other well and have already settled the general hierarchy in a satisfactory way. Any savvy alpha lawyer—and many a knowledgeable beta or omega attorney—learns to use casual, fleeting hints of dominance as a tool of the trade.
I’m a good alpha lawyer. That’s not bragging, it’s truth.
The moment I walked into this room, my alpha and I assessed the others. Again and again, with ever more focused intent, as it became clear that if we want Johanna—and we do—we’ll have to be prepared to work and pack up with, anyone else she chooses.
In my opinion, Corin and I are too close in dominance to settle easily together. Maybe I’m wrong, but not likely. His assumption of control over the meeting chafes, as does his connection with Johanna and their proximity. They share a house. His daughter calls her ‘aunt.’
Just as bad, he’s the epitome of certain alpha stereotypes: tall, dark-haired, with silver touched temples, and clear-cut features. He dresses and carries himself well, despite the bellycurve hinting at a fondness for food or beer. He smells good, too, though the constantly shifting balance between cedar and cider is yet another sign of his alpha’s strength—and an irritation for mine, as it makes my alpha work harder to figure out what Corin’s feeling at any given moment.
I’m not immune to his attraction, but the uneasy balance of dominance between us has my alpha more inclined to fight than fuck.
Dan, on the other hand, doesn’t trigger instincts to fight, in me or—as far as I can tell—Corin. Another prime example of mature alpha manhood, my children would likely describe Dan as a classic ‘silver fox’ with hair gone full gray, broad shoulders, and narrow waist. I’m surprised he hasn’t been snapped up as a model, his image used to sell suits, watches, and expensive liquor. And that moonlit-night forest scent of his?
My alpha’s more inclined to fuck him than anything.
I wouldn’t throw Dan out for eating cookies in bed. Rather, I’d make him lick the sheets clean while Johanna and I distract him. Run our hands along those lean arms and legs until his muscles tremble. Rub our chins across his back and down his spine, leaving our scents in so many places he’ll smell us for days. Lick over his body, finding every spot that makes him groan, twitch, and beg to come.
Corin might oversee, ensuring Dan stays on task and pointing out any crumbs he misses.
I shift in my seat, adjusting my pants as the zipper presses uncomfortably against my half-hard cock.
Dominance hangs about Dan, despite his admission of daily medication. He’s not doing much with it, but it’s there. At a guess, he’s the strongest of us, or the most ruled by hormones—or both—because it takes strength of will to acknowledge one needs help and to maintain a daily regimen.
And his honesty about his medication and his background, which partly explains the extent to which he doesn’t wield his dominance. I respect that, admire it, especially since I’m not ready to match it.
My alpha doesn’t care. I walked into the room wanting Johanna; now, he’s interested in Dan as well.
Given the compassion with which Corin receives Dan’s admissions, he might be, too.
Corin breaks the silence by thanking Dan for sharing, as though we’re in some support group like the ones I recommend to my clients. Or the ones I attended after losing my pack.
Maybe that’s not such a bad thing as a step toward forming a new pack.
But then, Corin catches the let-it-all-out disease.
“I grew up in a pack,” he begins, “with one alpha father, one omega father, and two beta mothers. I married a beta, though we divorced many years ago. If we make it as a pack, you can ask me why then.”
