Prickly Business (Portland Pack Chronicles Book 1)

by Piper Vaughn

  Avery nodded as much as Dylan’s grasp allowed. “I’ll talk to him.”

  Dylan gave him a narrow look. “We’ll talk to him. I’ll call him and see if we can stop by on Saturday morning. And if it’ll make you more comfortable, text Jaden and ask if he’ll meet us there.”

  “Okay.”

  Dylan’s expression softened. “I think it’s admirable that you want to help Otis. Really. But I don’t want you to be hurt. You understand, don’t you?”

  Avery melted a little, his stomach fluttering. “Yeah.”

  “I’ll help you however I can. I need to. Just let me, all right? My wolf will go crazy if you don’t.”

  Avery searched his face. “Just your wolf?”

  One corner of Dylan’s mouth quirked. “Both of us. We’ll lose our fucking minds, okay?”

  Avery smiled back shakily and reached up to grip Dylan’s hands on either side of his face. “Okay.”

  Dylan dipped his head and kissed him, his lips soft and caressing. Avery responded eagerly, not giving more than a passing thought to the fact that he hadn’t combed his hair after his bath earlier and that he was wearing his rattiest, rumpled pajamas. He focused on Dylan’s mouth and his taste and the way one of Dylan’s hands slid to the back of his skull, possessive, keeping Avery near.

  The kisses went on and on. Any time Dylan tried to pull away, Avery whimpered and chased his mouth, craving more. His body was enflamed, every inch of him hot, needy, desperate. Dylan’s scent made his head swim with hazy, glorious pleasure. He felt doped up, yet all too aware of Dylan’s every move and sound, of the fact that it was his own voice whispering “please” whenever they parted for air.

  Avery moaned and pressed closer to Dylan until he was sitting astride his lap, grinding his cock against Dylan’s hard abdomen. Dylan had just enough hair for Avery to thread his fingers into, so he did, holding Dylan close as they drowned in each other.

  Finally, as if he’d lost some inner battle, Dylan stopped trying to pull away. He groaned and reached for the hem of Avery’s shirt. Before Avery could blink, the material had been yanked over his head. The air of the apartment felt cool against his newly bared skin and his swollen, sensitized mouth. He shivered.

  “You too.” Avery pushed Dylan’s coat from his shoulders, grabbed the bottom of Dylan’s henley, and tugged. The jacket hit the floor and the shirt got tossed somewhere across the living room; then they were chest-to-chest. The smattering of hair across Dylan’s pecs tickled Avery’s nipples until they hardened to tight little buds. He cried out and arched his back when Dylan found one peak and caught it between his teeth.

  Dylan cupped his ass, his fingers digging into Avery’s crease through his pajama bottoms. Avery’s mind went fuzzy. He pressed back into Dylan’s touch, instinctively seeking more. His thoughts of “no rushing” vanished just as they’d started to niggle at his brain.

  Avery didn’t know how far he and Dylan would go. He didn’t care. He wanted Dylan. The whys and hows were insignificant. He’d waited too long, all those months when he’d pretended the yearning inside him was for something else, not for the mate who’d rejected him. The need inside Avery wouldn’t be denied now. Rationality had taken a backseat to lust.

  Dylan nudged him and Avery let himself be pushed until he lay flat against the couch cushions. He reached out to maintain the contact between them, tracing the muscles on Dylan’s washboard stomach, even as Dylan ripped his pajama pants free. His briefs got the same treatment. Then he was naked, his hard, leaking cock resting against his lower abdomen. Like Dylan, he was uncut. All male shifters were.

  Dylan raked his gaze from Avery’s face to his groin, lingering on his chest, where Avery had elaborate wings tattooed below his collarbones. Avery knew he wasn’t massively endowed, but he was proud of his size and shape. He reached down and gripped his dick at the base so it stood upright.

  Dylan’s nostrils flared. “Jesus. You’re perfect.” He covered Avery’s body with his own, nestled into the cradle of Avery’s slender thighs.

  The denim of his jeans felt rough and his belt scratched, but Avery welcomed him close. He wrapped his arms around Dylan, drawing him down until their lips met again. Dylan’s tongue twined with his, and Avery shuddered at the slick heat of their kiss, at the weight of Dylan’s body on top of him, at the press of their bare chests—his narrow and toned, nearly hairless, and Dylan’s broad, furry, and heavily muscled.

  Digging his nails into Dylan’s back, Avery ground up against him, urgent, searching for friction. He needed. Oh God, how he needed. He felt feverish with it, and Dylan was his only cure.

  “Please,” he whispered against Dylan’s mouth. He didn’t even know what he was asking for. Something. Anything. Every fiber of his body craved relief.

  Dylan squeezed a hand between them. Avery felt his fingers moving, heard the clinking of a belt buckle being undone. He reached for Dylan’s waistband and pushed the jeans and underwear down until they rested around his upper thighs.

  Dylan took them both in hand. Their cocks pressed together as Dylan stroked, easing the way with Avery’s precum, which always leaked in copious amounts.

  Avery trembled as their ridges caught and rubbed, at the smooth glide of Dylan’s foreskin against his own. Dylan worked their cocks with fast, firm strokes, adding a twist when he got near the heads. All Avery could do in response was moan and return Dylan’s kiss. He accepted Dylan’s possession, his dominance, the way Dylan ravished his mouth as if he were conquering new territory.

  Maybe he was.

  Avery lost it when Dylan grunted and thrust down against him, adding more pressure to the mix. He broke the kiss to gasp for breath, his orgasm so intense his vision blacked out. His view was endless darkness as his body spasmed and his dick pulsed, spreading slippery warmth between them.

  Dylan growled and rutted against him, his cock sliding along the groove of Avery’s hip. His cum scented the air only seconds later—Dylan’s smell, only sharper, muskier.

  Avery blinked hazily when he finally stopped coming. Dylan’s hips were still moving in short, jerky motions, smearing their combined release on both their skin. He looked pleased, satiated, his eyes half-closed, hair mussed from Avery’s fingers.

  Avery petted his back. He’d been wondering what Dylan’s reaction would be if anything sexual happened between them. With their history, Avery had almost expected Dylan to be angry, maybe resentful. Apparently he wasn’t. At least not yet. For himself, Avery regretted nothing. He loved Dylan’s kisses, the pleasant ache in his mouth, being covered in his scent. It made him feel… owned. Claimed, even without the bite.

  He brushed his lips across Dylan’s scruffy jaw. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

  The second he asked, he felt vulnerable, as if he’d exposed too much. His breath caught as he waited for Dylan’s answer.

  “Of course,” Dylan said, sounding sleepy. “Tomorrow morning I’ll take you to breakfast.”

  “I like breakfast. Crispy Waffle?”

  Dylan looked surprised but pleased. “Yeah, if you want.”

  Avery nodded and nestled his face in the curve where Dylan’s neck met his shoulder. Lines of dark ink decorated the skin there. Someday he’d take the time to explore all of Dylan’s tattoos. With his tongue. For now, he was content to lie there under Dylan’s hot, sheltering weight. It was the best Avery had felt in… ever. “I do want.”

  Tomorrow. Forever. Avery knew it then. He wanted to wear Dylan’s claiming mark. He wanted this, him and Dylan, for always. They could be great together. He could feel it.

  He didn’t dare say it aloud.

  BREAKFAST A few days before had been nice. So had waking up that morning with Avery curled at his side. To be honest, Dylan hadn’t wanted to leave the bed. Not that he’d admit it. He hadn’t told Avery, although they talked every day, but he hadn’t slept that well in a while, and not since either. He replayed that night in his head, from the time he walked into Avery’s loft until he left, and som
ething inside him clenched.

  Avery was more than Dylan had ever expected—on so many levels. The way he let loose—gave himself over to Dylan—it was beautiful. The way he begged and the sounds he made—light grunts and hisses…. Christ, the memory alone was turning Dylan on. He needed to get a grip. Walking into the alpha’s house with a hard-on, not to mention smelling of lust and pheromones, was probably not the best idea. Especially since Dylan had glimpsed his father’s truck parked just down the road.

  This should be fun.

  Standing at the end of the Odells’ driveway, Dylan waited quietly at Avery’s side. They hadn’t moved for the past several minutes, but Dylan was letting Avery make the first step. It was his show. Dylan was only there for support… and to kick anyone’s ass who looked at his mate sideways.

  The house near Forest Park was an imposing structure. Built atop a small hill, it gave the impression of a miniature mountain overlooking all of Portland. Dylan knew the view from the back was just that.

  Dylan turned his head to watch Avery. “You know I’ve got your back, right?”

  Avery only nodded, staring straight ahead.

  “Everything is going to work out.” He kept his voice low, soft. He couldn’t make promises, but he also knew the alpha to be fair and mostly wise. He had chosen Lawrence Green as a beta, after all. Nobody was perfect.

  Avery bobbed his head up and down again.

  Dylan sighed. He didn’t want to rush, but if they stood out there much longer, someone was bound to notice and come for them anyway. “You ready?”

  Even after Avery had agreed to speak with the alpha, Dylan had watched all morning as his mate gathered the nerve and swallowed his pride to do so. The hedgehog amazed him, the way he placed Otis and his daughter on a pedestal. Selflessness was a new facet to Avery he honestly hadn’t expected. The guilt of judging Avery before he actually knew him washed over him. There was nothing he could do about it now. Time to move forward.

  Over the years, Dylan had been to the alpha’s house more than once—mostly for one infraction or another. While his issues with authority began with his father, they didn’t extend completely to the alpha. He’d been a member of the pack his entire life, and even though he didn’t approve of all of his decisions, Dylan respected the alpha.

  Which was why they now stood outside the alpha home.

  Avery took a deep breath and nodded but didn’t move. Dylan waited. Avery was the type who considered himself a failure if he ever needed to ask for help. For anything. Just when Dylan was sure Avery was about to tuck tail and run, he blinked up at Dylan and said, “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  It felt natural when Avery reached over and laced their fingers before starting up the path to the front door. The tender gesture unknotted something inside him.

  The front door flew open before Dylan had the opportunity to ring the bell. Jaden stood there, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. Dylan followed Jaden’s gaze to his and Avery’s entwined hands and chuckled, which only served to deepen Jaden’s blush, highlighting his freckles. When he lifted his gaze, he looked only at Avery. It wasn’t that Dylan didn’t know Jaden was intimidated by him. He’d grown used to the wary looks and whispers from the pack. Some of it had to do with Dylan’s strength. For others it was about his connection to Lawrence. Not that Dylan claimed that connection in public, but it’s not like he could change his parentage.

  It didn’t keep Dylan from releasing Avery’s hand and swinging a proprietary arm around him to pull him closer. Jaden’s eyes widened a hair, and then he swallowed audibly. Dylan only smirked.

  He was glad Avery had called Jaden to be there for the meeting. Dylan liked being the one Avery leaned on, but surprisingly, jealousy and possession didn’t enter Dylan’s mind when he thought about their friendship. Jaden was good for Avery. Dylan thought possibly Jaden was the one who kept his hedgehog grounded.

  “Hey, Jay.” Avery spoke with more confidence than Dylan expected, but he still heard the shakiness in his tone, the uncertainty. “You know Dylan, right?” He tilted his head in Dylan’s direction.

  “Yeah.” Jaden threw a tight grin at Dylan and eyed him skeptically for a moment before nodding. “I know who he is.” He was a cute kid. Not Dylan’s type, but still, Dylan could admit Jaden’s sweetness could be attractive to the right person.

  Dylan laughed and waved at Jaden with his free hand. “Hey, man,” he said, cordially. “Good to see you again.”

  Finally Jaden met Dylan’s stare, his head held high, gaze filled with determination. “You too. Do you guys want to come in?”

  Nervously, Avery looked up at Dylan just as Dylan turned to him.

  “You’ve got this,” Dylan whispered, dropping a kiss on his forehead.

  Avery swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, then nodded. He didn’t look sure, but Dylan couldn’t have been prouder when he turned back to Jaden.

  “Yeah, let’s get this over with.” Dylan caught a slight tremble in Avery’s voice, almost imperceptible. Though by the sympathetic expression on Jaden’s face, Dylan thought he may have heard it as well.

  When Jaden looked like he might say something more, he turned on his heel and walked away. Dylan assumed he and Avery were expected to follow. As he pulled away, Avery reached back and took Dylan’s hand then trailed behind Jaden as he led them through the house to the living room. It was a large room situated at the far back corner of the house. The two outside walls consisted of floor-to-ceiling windows. The room itself was comfortable, inviting. Dylan chalked that up to Mrs. Odell. She was one hell of a woman, exactly like the room—open, soothing, and elegant.

  “Dylan,” Odell greeted cheerfully, with a wide grin. He commandeered the overstuffed seafoam green chair he sat in as if it were a throne.

  “Alpha.” Dylan nodded solemnly.

  Kitty-corner to the chair on both sides sat two equally large dark brown sofas. In any other room it all may have seemed a bit busy, but under Samantha Odell’s thumb it more than worked with the driftwood coffee table and nautical decorations.

  Dylan’s father was situated on one of the couches. Law wasn’t looking at him or Avery, but at their joined hands. If looks were lasers, he and Avery would probably both be minus one hand.

  Dylan cleared his throat. “Father,” he said through gritted teeth. It was both a greeting and a warning. Dylan treated his father with dignity in public due to his position as beta, but Dylan wouldn’t put up with disrespect toward Avery.

  Lawrence pierced Dylan with a glare he’d learned from his days as a rookie. Not that it did any good. He lifted his lip in a silent snarl, and just when Dylan was certain his father was about to go off on one of his hate-filled rants, the alpha’s gaze landed on Avery.

  “Avery, my boy,” he called, his smile never wavering.

  It warmed Dylan that Odell approved of Avery, even if it was only because he was Jaden’s best friend.

  “Alpha.” Avery nodded slowly and kept his voice low.

  “Well, come in. Come in.” Odell motioned them into the room and toward the sofa opposite Dylan’s father and the other two betas—Broderick and Russell. The three men barely fit on the piece of furniture, squeezed together shoulder to shoulder.

  Dylan let go of Avery’s hand, then slid his palm up Avery’s spine to his neck, where it rested as he guided Avery to the sofa where Jaden sat quietly.

  “So, Dylan says you have something to tell me.” Odell directed the comment at Avery, and Avery nodded.

  “Yessir,” he squeaked, likely louder than he’d intended. A blush stole over Avery’s cheeks, and he dipped his head.

  Alpha Odell chuckled warmly, and a growl came from across the room. The sneer on Lawrence’s face directed at his mate had Dylan wanting to put himself between Avery and Law, to protect Avery from the ugliness of his father’s intolerance. Dylan smirked when Broderick elbowed the old man, cutting him off. He thought he may have seen a twitch of the lips from the ever stone-faced Russell.

  “Let�
�s hear it, then.” The alpha spoke as if he hadn’t noticed the tension in the room. That was unlikely. Odell was the most perceptive man Dylan knew.

  Dylan nodded his encouragement after Avery drew his attention by glancing up at him. Vulnerability in a room full of people was not Avery’s strong suit. Dylan knew that, of course, but the rest of the room obviously didn’t.

  “Avery, honey.” Samantha breezed into the room, her blonde hair twisted into a loose bun on top of her head and a beaming smile on her face for Avery as she made a beeline for him. “Why don’t you visit more often?”

  Avery stood as she approached, and Dylan watched as he let himself be pulled into a hug. It was strange, the dynamics of the Odell household. Dylan knew her to be affectionate, but not touchy-feely. He’d certainly never been hugged by her nor had he seen anyone else receive the same treatment—outside of the Odell family, that is. He’d also never seen Samantha look at anyone other than her son with that mama wolf softness. Yet that’s exactly how she looked at Avery.

  For a moment Dylan wondered what he was getting himself into with Avery and this family. They obviously looked at him with compassion and caring, unlike Avery’s own parents. Hell, Dylan’s father didn’t even feel that way about Dylan.

  Then Dylan glimpsed his mate’s stunned expression, staring down at the small woman in front of him, and knew that whatever he was getting himself into was worth it, if only to be one of the few people who knew the real Avery.

  The thought made Dylan glance at his father where he sat between the other betas, watching the interaction like a petulant, misbehaved child.

  “Oh, Mrs. Odell, you know how it is.” Avery grinned amiably—his first since they entered the house.