Chapter 11 Brat Pack
brAT PACK
NEMO
Baz stomped into the living room, sank on the couch, and crossed his arms. The gap between his glove and jacket revealed the face of Orson’s watch.
I eyed Orson as he trailed into the room.
The overwhelming urge to claim Baz crawled out my mouth as a growl.
And by claim, I meant bend him in half over the couch and finally fuck him … while Orson watched.
“Feeling better?” I asked, dropping next to him. Baz broke out in laughter.
“Yeah, sure. Feeling so much better,” he spat sarcastically.
“Let's talk,” I said. He groaned, dropping his head on the back of the couch.
“Fine,” he huffed out.
“At the grocery store, the fight…” I waited. He let my statement hang in the air awkwardly for a minute.
“What about it?” He finally asked. His throat bobbed with a nervous swallow. I watched the motion of it. Our dynamic had shifted permanently, and my instincts were screaming at me to make that known.
My hand snapped out and grabbed his throat.
“You couldn’t beat me,” I growled. Baz glared at me as I smiled.
“How about this? Rematch in oh,” he looked at the watch, “eighteen hours, give or take.”
“You’ve been such a pain in the ass as a mate,” I said, ignoring him. There was no going back now. Serum be damned. Give me an inch and I’d take a mile. No, actually, give me an inch and he’d take twelve.
“And here I thought you liked me in your ass,” he joked.
I felt the nervous bob of his throat beneath the palm of my hand again.
Red and green eyes glared at me, daring me to start something.
His expression and the tension in his muscles made it clear he would fight.
I smiled wider, showing him my teeth. I’d waited a long time for this—I gripped his neck tighter—and I could wait longer
The fight for dominance hadn't been about claiming him.
It had been about taking charge as the leader.
Baz needed protection from Damien and we all needed to work together better.
That's why I'd forced the fight. Orson kept doing things on his own, Bree was a bloodlust bomb with questionable sanity, and Baz, whether he realized it or not, was a fucking mess.
“Let me take care of you,” I said.
Baz eyes bugged. “What?” He shoved my chest, but I didn’t relent. Instead, I pulled him closer. Baz looked more terrified now than when he had thought we were going to fight or fuck.
“Get off me,” he said, failing to shove me off him.
“No. Let me take care of you.” I licked a line across his lips.
“Jesus,” he hissed.
“Say I’m Alpha,” I growled.
“Shouldn’t we fight?” he argued. I buried my face in his neck and bit. He hissed in pain as I dug my teeth in. I wanted to break the skin, make sure I left a permanent mark, but I stopped short. It wasn't the right time.
Baz shifted beneath me, gloved fingers digging harshly into my chest as I kept bearing down. A growl trickled out of my throat as he pushed on my chest. No getting away, not anymore.
I brushed my thumb over the indents after I’d had my fill.
“Let me take care—”
“Okay,” he blurted. I stilled.
“What?”
“I said okay,” he sighed, sagging into the couch. The joy creeped up on me as a slow warmth building under my ribs. For so long, he’d fought this. But now the fight in his eyes slowly drained.
“I’m going to do everything I can to protect you,” I said, grabbing his face in my hands. He let me brush my thumb over his cheekbones.
He was ten when I first met him. Two years older than me, but smaller than he should have been. He’d looked like an angry doll. Something out of a fairytale with his different colored eyes and long green eyelashes. Part of me knew then, from that very first moment, how important he'd be to me.
“You’ll let me take care of you?” I asked again. He rolled his mismatched eyes, and I was sickeningly enamoured. I found very few men attractive, but there’d never been a doubt when it came to Baz.
“I said yes, didn’t I?”
“Do you know what I’m asking?” My thumb brushed his lips. It was wrong, but I’d felt relief when he masked himself at Verfallen. He had a mouth that begged destruction and a face that demanded worship from everyone.
“We both know I was never a leader,” he admitted. “It’s … hard for me to let go of control, but if anyone will keep the group together, it’s you. It’s definitely not me or Orson. Or Bree,” he chuckled. “Not for her lack of trying, but she’s not a leader either.”
I kissed him. He grunted in surprise. Without hesitation, I gripped his jaw and forced his mouth open for me.
As I kissed him, I thought of that first time I did it, when we were teens.
It nearly killed me. I’d been dumb, desperate, and fighting raging instincts.
I remembered the need. It drove me wild.
It was still driving me wild. I pressed my thumb into his fresh indented bite mark, making him subdue a wince as I pulled away from his mouth.
“Don’t let Orson fuck you,” I said. He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t care if you fuck him or whatever else you have together, but not that.”
“Wow, getting right to it, are we?” Baz smiled, and I glared. He huffed in annoyance. “We both know he doesn’t want to top anyone. Even Bree tops him from the bottom.”
“Say it,” I demanded.
“You’re serious? You want me to what … tell you my ass is yours?” Baz asked.
“Yes,” I said. His mouth dropped open, floundering for a moment.
“I’m taking it back. I’m still in charge,” he said.
“No, you aren’t,” I responded. Baz tried to turn away, and I snatched his jaw in my hand and forced him to look me in the face. Whatever he saw in my expression had his eyes widen.
“Okay!” He tried to look around the room to see where Bree and Orson were, but I held him tight, not letting him.
“Say it, Baz,” I teased.
“My ass is yours,” he whispered through clenched teeth. Orson burst out laughing somewhere in the house, and Baz groaned in embarrassment. I raised an eyebrow.
“Say it and mean it.”
“Has it been twenty-four hours yet? I’m ready to kill you,” Baz grumbled. I waited patiently, refusing to respond. He thrashed a little in my unrelenting hold, ground his teeth, seethed a little. Finally, he let out a long breath.
“You can fuck me. I’ll submit.” The truth in his words sent a shock of electricity up my spine. You can fuck me, rolled around in my head, making me suppress a groan.
“Good boy,” I growled, patting his cheek. I let him go and stretched my arms across the back of the couch. I was king of this murder cabin and couldn’t be happier. Baz stared at me.
“Well?” He asked.
“Excited to get fucked?” I asked with a smug smile.
“For real, aren’t you going to rip me to shreds?” He asked. My smile dimmed.
“Not until I make this right. You aren’t going to be untouchable forever, Baz. Trust me.”
“You made me say all that just to tell me no thanks? Way to embarrass a guy,” he sighed.
“Once I prove I can take care of everyone, including you. Then I will.”
“Does your werewolf code of conduct come with a manual?” He asked.
“No,” I said. Baz shoved me off the couch, and I landed with a grunt on the fuzzy carpet. Then he stretched out, eyes already closing.
“Bree, don’t let me sleep too long,” he said. She had been hovering in the kitchen, giving us space. Once he called her, she came closer.
“You need to rest,” she said. “I slept days when I got the injections.”
“One hour,” he said.
“Eight,” she countered.
“Two hours.”
“Seven,” she bartered.
“I need to eat. Wake me up when you guys get food. Then I’ll sleep more after that,” he lied.
“Okay,” Bree agreed. Baz cracked his eyes open and watched her walk away, then he winked at me.
“And then, after that, we fuck,” Baz said. “You know Bree … you’re the first living person I've had sex with.” I read between the lines. He was saying she’d likely be the last person he had sex with, too. He didn’t believe I would fix this.
Bree came to a halt and swung back around. “Why did you put it like that?” Bree asked. “Living person.”
“Huh? Because you are,” he said, yawning. I grimaced.
“The first living person you had sex with.”
“Yes?”
“Baz,” I said. “Please tell me you didn’t.”
“What do you mean? I think you all are extremely aware I’ve had sex, my cock has been inside all of you.”
“Living person,” Bree repeated.
“Are you not alive?” He closed his eyes and yawned again.
“Does that mean there was a dead person you had sex with first?” Bree asked. Baz snorted. Everyone remained silent.
“Why isn’t he answering?” Bree asked, sounding panicked.
“Oh, you’re being serious,” he sighed, rolling on his side.
“Baz, just answer,” Bree practically growled.
“You get jealous of corpses, too? That’s cute.” He fell asleep before giving anyone a straight answer.