Prickly Business (2 page)

Poor Jaden. Honestly, though, he could have his pick of humans. No reason for him to risk his father’s wrath by bedding a packmate. In Alpha Odell’s mind, no doubt Jaden was still an untouched virgin waiting for his fated mate.
Ha
. If Odell only knew what sort of debauchery Jaden had gotten into when he and Avery shared an apartment in Eugene.

The University of Oregon’s campus didn’t lack fresh meat, even other shifter species like Avery, who had to obtain permission from Alpha Odell to attend the school and, later, to move to Portland itself, as the Portland pack’s territory included Eugene. During their four years of college, Jaden had taken advantage of being free of his father’s constant watch. Now that he lived in the city, his father’s eyes and ears were everywhere. Clearly this crush on Broderick had nowhere to go. Jaden persisted anyway, for reasons that mystified Avery.

Avery tossed back the rest of his ale and signaled to the bartender for another. “Gotta take a leak,” he told Jaden, yelling to be heard over the music. Dear Lord, was that “Wanted Dead or Alive” by Bon Jovi? Shoot him now.

Jaden didn’t even spare him a glance, his gaze laser-focused on where Broderick leaned over to line up a shot.

Avery rolled his eyes and slid off his stool. The room went blurry, and he reached out to steady himself on the bar top.
Whoa.
Those four glasses of ale had snuck up on him. Maybe ordering another wasn’t the best idea.

Once his vision refocused, he wove his way to the back of the pub, passing the pool tables as he went. Broderick had apparently missed his shot since his companions were heckling him about not being able to aim his stick. Avery smirked, slowing subconsciously. Had he been clearheaded, he wouldn’t have lingered, not wanting to draw attention. But as he moved on, his presence was noticed. Glenn, one of the big bearded wolves, elbowed the man next to him and lifted his chin.

“Well, if it isn’t our favorite little prick,” Glenn called, his beer bottle dangling from his fingers.

The other guy laughed. “I thought I smelled a rodent.”

Avery narrowed his eyes. “Here’s a zoology lesson, Rover: hedgehogs aren’t rodents.”

Glenn shrugged one beefy shoulder. “I’m sure if I ripped off your quills, you’d look plenty like a rat. Wanna test the theory?”

Avery opened his mouth to respond, but Broderick’s rumbling voice cut in. “Leave him be, Glenn. You know the alpha doesn’t like pack members harassing each other.”

Glenn scoffed. “He’s not pack.” He refrained from saying more when Broderick turned a disapproving look on him.

“He lives here under Alpha Odell’s protection. He might as well be pack.”

Avery bristled at Broderick’s assumption that he couldn’t handle himself in an argument with this overgrown asshat. “You don’t have to defend me. He’s right. I’m not pack. Hedgehogs aren’t pack animals. Another lesson for you.”

“How about I shove your lessons up that little prickly ass of yours?” Glenn snarled.

“Aiken!” Broderick rounded on him, the word grated out on a growl, his muscles seeming to swell as his anger flared. “One more time and I’ll take it as a personal challenge.”

Glenn instantly dropped his gaze and tilted his head, exposing his neck to his beta. Avery wanted to say something snide, but Broderick cut him a glare that sent a cascade of goose bumps along his spine.

Avery wasn’t predisposed to submit to a stronger shifter—there was no hierarchy in hedgehog culture, and males could be notoriously aggressive with each other when provoked—but he also knew when to pick his battles. He was too drunk to defend himself. Even if he hadn’t been drinking, well, not even a supernatural hedgehog stood much of a chance against a wolf in a physical fight. It wasn’t as if he’d shift into a man-sized powerhouse of spines, claws, and fur. He’d be the same size as any wild hedgehog—puny.

With a haughty lift of his chin, Avery stalked off toward the restrooms. He did his business and glowered at himself in the mirror above the sinks as he washed his hands.

What the hell was he doing here with these ignorant dogs? Jaden excluded, of course. He was the only respectable, intelligent wolf in the bunch. Much like the Cajun wolves Avery knew from back home in Louisiana, these were volatile, quick to anger, and just as fast to laugh it off, except when it came to him. They reveled in every primal pleasure—feasting, fucking, and fighting.

To Avery’s family, werewolves were undisciplined heathens who ran the woods surrounding the bayou, terrifying the smaller shifters and keeping everyone awake with their howling during full moons. Avery’s parents despised wolves. His father had hated having to ask Alpha Odell permission for Avery to live on pack land. He’d done it because Avery wouldn’t let him rest otherwise.

Avery had fallen in love with Oregon when he’d visited the summer between his junior and senior year, but despite his fondness for the city of Portland and how it called to his soul as home, the Northwest was a veritable breeding ground for werewolves. Their numbers were concentrated there, with forests aplenty and natural wolves to help disguise their presence from humans should they be discovered while in shifted form.

This was really no place for a small-species shifter like himself. Yet, regardless of his upbringing, he might have tried to make a place for himself in the pack if it wasn’t for—

No.
Avery shook his head. He wasn’t going to go there. He wasn’t going to think of
him
.

Avery paused at the dryer for a few seconds, then left the restroom with his hands still damp. Distracted by unwanted thoughts, he collided with something hard and unmoving as he exited the hallway that led back to the main bar area. Avery stumbled back and nearly lost his footing, but even as he struggled to stay upright, the familiar scent struck his nose and made his entire body react. His skin heated, pulse quickened, cock filled, and that ache inside him—the one that longed for its mate—returned with a vengeance so strong it robbed him of breath.

Avery gaped as Dylan Green tossed him a glance over his shoulder. The musky scent of this particular wolf burned in his nostrils and made the animal inside him stir. He both loved and loathed it in equal measure. His eyes greedily took in the broad back beneath the lines of Dylan’s leather jacket, the long legs encased in formfitting denim, the strong square jaw. Dylan’s light brown hair was wet from the drizzle outside and shorter than the last time Avery had seen him, but it worked with his high cheekbones and bold features, and his dark stubble emphasized his well-sculpted mouth.

Dylan turned away, dismissing Avery without a word. It was then Avery noticed he had his arm draped over the shoulders of another guy. A human from his scent. A good-looking human who seemed
mighty
comfortable all snugged up against Dylan’s side, as if it were his right to be there.

Avery fought back a hiss.
Fuck that. No one else has the right to—

He cut off that line of thinking. How dumb could he be? It was as though his thoughts in the bathroom had somehow conjured Dylan just to torment him.

Dylan, his destined mate. The wolf who’d rejected him and their potential bond two years ago. The one whom Avery should most assuredly not be staring at or admiring, because there was nothing between them and there never would be.

When it came down to it, Dylan wasn’t even his type. Avery liked slender men with minimal body hair, men who were more his size and height, not big hairy brutes who towered over him and made him feel small. But a part of him, the part he held no sway over, rebelled at the thought of desiring anyone other than Dylan.

Damned pheromones. Damned fate. Why would destiny think they were an ideal couple? The mating pull paired complementary personalities, matching the people who had the best chance of making each other happy for life. It didn’t take into account little things like gender or conflicting shifter species. But it wasn’t infallible. It couldn’t be. A hedgehog mated to a wolf? Plumb ridiculous, as his mama would say.

Avery tore his gaze away from where Dylan held the human close. The animal inside him screamed in anger. It wanted its mate. It wanted to rip the guy away from Dylan and take his place. It yearned still, even after all this time, and that would probably never go away completely.

Avery pushed past Dylan, chin up, shoulders straight. “Smells like wet dog in here,” he sneered as their arms brushed. He felt Dylan stiffen, but there was no reply, and Avery didn’t stop moving. He continued to the bar where Jaden sat waiting.

Jaden gave him a concerned look when he dropped onto his stool with a huff. “What’s wrong?”

“Dylan’s here.”

Jaden’s gaze shot to the pool tables, where Dylan and his little friend had joined the other wolves, before returning to Avery. His sympathetic expression made Avery’s stomach clench. “Do you want to leave?”

For a moment Avery was tempted. He didn’t want Dylan, but no shifter could watch his fated mate with someone else and not be bothered. Fury vibrated inside him, making him feel sick. At the same time, he chafed at the idea of Dylan knowing he’d run Avery off. Hell no. His pride wouldn’t allow him to leave. Not yet. Not before Dylan had seen Avery having a good time and not caring at all that Dylan was there on a date with someone else.

“No, it’s fine.” Avery waved a dismissive hand.

Jaden squeezed his arm briefly but didn’t call Avery on the lie. They both knew nothing about the situation was “fine.” Instead of pressing the issue, Jaden said, “One more beer and we’ll head out. I need to dance, and you need to get laid.”

Avery picked up the beer the bartender had delivered while he was gone. He toasted Jaden before draining most of his glass. “You, sir, have the best ideas.”

R
EFUSING
TO
give in to Avery’s prodding, Dylan watched the princess prance his way across the room and back to the bar. He also refused to acknowledge the twist of jealousy in his chest when Jaden leaned into him. Dylan had no claim on Avery, and he didn’t want one. Still, the urge to storm across the bar and drag Avery out kicking and screaming was strong. It took everything he had—and the cute blond anchored to his side—to tamp down that stupidity.

Just no.

“Do you need something else to drink?”

A moment passed before Dylan realized the soft question was directed at him.
Chance.
Dylan pasted on a smile he didn’t feel and glanced down at the man blinking innocently up at him. Chance looked good there, felt comfortable in his arms. He was a dancer, and a damned good one, all long limbs, smooth porcelain skin, and platinum hair. Dylan had plans to test out his claims to being “bendy in all the right ways” later.

“I’m good.” Dylan winked and decided to change his focus from the mate who didn’t want him to the man on his arm who obviously did.

“It’s just, you keep glaring at the bar. If you want another beer, I can go get you one.” Chance’s flirty smile wavered before brightening again.
Damn.

Why the hell did Avery have to pick Wolfhound, of all the places in the city, to show up? It was Dylan’s domain. After Avery graduated and moved to Portland from Eugene, they’d run into each other now and again, but Dylan had assured himself he wouldn’t need to worry about checking Wolfhound for his supposed mate. Dylan shook that thought off.
Mate
. What a joke.

Throwing a quick glance at the bar, he snorted. Should have known Avery followed the alpha’s son there. Dylan narrowed his eyes, a growl rolling in his chest when Jaden’s hand landed on Avery’s thigh. He quieted down quickly. Avery could do whatever and whoever he wanted. Even Jaden, if that was what he was into. The memory of his mate’s scent hit him as if Avery were standing in front of him. Dylan’s cock twitched and his wolf howled at the knowledge of Avery being so near yet untouchable.

He grimaced.
Get ahold of yourself.

Dylan was happy with his life the way it was. He didn’t want a mate. He knew what fate had in store for him if he chose that road. One look at his mother and father told him what he’d have to look forward to.
Same fate, different mate
. Dylan didn’t plan on being stuck in an unwanted mating, much less with a mate who didn’t want him. He was perfectly content with his life the way it was—uncomplicated.

“Come on.” After glancing once more at the bar, Dylan tugged Chance along to where his crew gathered around the blue-topped pool table at the back of the bar. As they neared, Dylan leaned in close and whispered, “That’s Kirk.” He motioned toward a group of guys, at the small man with a dark halo of hair. Among all his friends, and even the other men at the shop, Kirk was the smaller, quieter, more introspective of the bunch, but his wolf was damn powerful. Next to Dylan, Kirk’s wolf was the strongest, definitely the boldest.

Dylan pointed. “That’s Sawyer.” He wore the look of a stereotypical biker—long hair, inked sleeves, and a permanent scowl. “Don’t let his broodiness scare you. He’s a big teddy bear.” Sawyer’s unflappable expression didn’t budge as he gave Chance the once-over, then turned his attention elsewhere. To those who didn’t know him, Sawyer was intimidating and standoffish. Dylan had known him for a long time, long enough to know Sawyer preferred it that way.

“And this guy here”—Dylan detached himself from his date and clapped Lucas on the back—“is Lucas Marshall, my best friend since I was four.”