Stone Cold Sober #3
“On getting your cock out of cement? That’s sort of niche, no?” Luca’s voice trickles through the speaker, and he can see the top of his fluffy head under Gideon’s arm that is holding the phone. “Is his dick going to fall off? I hope his dick doesn’t fall off.”
Rowan barely holds back a retch of stomach acid at the thought. Maybe this is karma. Maybe he should have been more sympathetic about Luca’s sore, ketchup-filled hole. Yet one more thing that was his fault.
“Luc, not helping.” Leo pulls Luca away. “Jay, Sentinel says they’re ten minutes out.”
Sentinel is rescuing him. Oh, no. “You called Sentinel?” He asks, a voice filled with betrayal. So much for the fewer people knowing, the better.
“I didn’t know what else to do. We’re in fucking New York, Ro. I need someone I can trust and someone your Wolf knows. If you shifted while—you know. You could do serious permanent damage.” Even Jay looks pale at the thought—maybe he’d appreciate a Rowan dildo, too.
But no one says this is his own fault.
“Ro, embarrassment is a small price to pay to save your favorite appendage.”
“Is it, though?” He mutters as he hears the front gate sliding open and a big vehicle park in front of the house. “They’re here. I’m gonna go.”
“It’ll be okay, baby. The flight crew is being called in. We’ll be there when you wake up.”
Wake up from what, he thinks, but is distracted when Tsuki climbs to her feet, on guard until the security code clears and the last Kennedy pack member he’d wanted to see is standing in his foyer with the biggest, most condescendingly amused, shit-eating grin on his stupidly handsome face. Logan Frost.
“Well, I didn’t believe it,” he chuckles as he removes his shoes.
“Don’t be mean,” Baz says, coming in behind him.
Both men are dressed casually for their evening at home, and the gentle scent of lilacs flows toward him with Logan’s cedar and Baz’s spicy cardamom.
Rowan has always liked Leo’s lifelong friend more than any of the others.
He’s transparently happy and sincere. As genuine as Nix in a lot of ways, and the perfect foil for a happy Leo.
Baz goes to his knees beside him, a sympathetic smile in place. “Can I look, Rowan?”
Rowan nods, embarrassed. “Sorry…”
“It’s okay, Jay said you were stuck and—whoa.”
There’s noise in the kitchen as Logan sorts through the evidence of the Clone-a-Willy, putting the pieces of the story together. “Why not just use the tube they sent?” He mutters to himself.
Baz smirks and raises an eyebrow.
“Don’t say it. My dignity can’t take it. What are we going to do?”
Logan arrives, holding the box and snags the instructions Tsuki had dropped (The ones Rowan wants everyone to know he followed to the letter).
“Hi, Logan.”
Crouching down, he smiles. “Hey, Rowan. Why not just use the tube they sent—whoa.” His eyes go wide and his cheeks flush. “Holy shit.”
Rowan wants to die when Baz nudges his mate with his shoulder. “Envious?”
Logan scowls. “No. My dick is just fine. Better than fine. You had no complaints this mor—” Baz interrupts his mate’s defensive tirade with a hand over his mouth. “And mine’s not currently encased in concrete.”
Rowan magnanimously doesn’t correct him by saying it’s cement.
“Ignore him. We called an ambulance,” Baz says soothingly.
“And the fire department,” Logan adds with an apologetic shrug.
“Both? Oh, my goddess. Why both?”
Logan chuckles before pressing the edge of the pillow under Rowan’s ass to better see what they’re working with. Baz fetches a soft wool blanket off the couch and settles it over his ass (and his dignity), finally blocking Logan’s curious view.
There’s a commotion in the courtyard and the rumble of a big engine.
“We weren’t sure if the ambulance could get you out of here or if they’d have to use the—”
“Logan. Let them work,” Baz chastises.
Rowan feels those beers trying to come up when he thinks about Logan’s ominous words. “Use the what, Logan? The what?”
It’s a nightmare after that. Firefighters and eventually paramedics move through Rowan’s den, leaving strange scents while trying to be professional. No doubt he’ll be the subject of some TikTok cautionary tale or locker room story.
Even Tsuki is on guard, passing muster on each interloper until she finally lies down beside him, decidedly in the way, but offering comfort no one denies him.
It’s the Wolf, though, that eventually decides his fate.
Every time someone approaches him with a chisel or other sharp tool—Rowan didn’t know the jaws of life came in that size—the Wolf becomes vicious.
No matter that Rowan knows they’re just trying to help, they don’t know anything about Rowan’s other half. It’s all he can do to remember he shouldn’t shift, for the longevity of his dick and the health of the emergency workers.
At one point, after Rowan had snapped his enigma fangs at a firefighter with a stupid smirk, they considered a tranquilizer dart.
But Logan had intervened—with his strong arms folded over his chest and the scariest expression on his handsome face, he’d stood between the paramedic and Rowan’s naked ass.
“You’re not tranq-ing him like a wild animal in his own home. Think of something else,” Logan growled, and Rowan had to reconsider his earlier uncharitable thoughts. Logan is the man.
It feels like forever, but eventually, Baz breaks the news to him that they are taking him to Lupine General.
They can’t remove the cement with him awake, and they hope Finn being present will help calm him down.
It’s not a surprise when Rowan remembers Jay had said exactly that—he’d known how this was going to end up from the start.
He tries to block the pang of missing the comfort of his alpha and the horrors of the move after that. It involves the rigging of boards and straps, and something that defies gravity.
He distracts himself with his bladder’s regrets about those three beers and finally concludes that Nix will have to live without a replica of his dick, and unless there is the chance of a time-shifting doppelganger, Rowan will have to give up his dream of taking his own dick. Maybe Grayson knows something…
“Rowan?” A paramedic with blue hair and a cool Medusa piercing catches his attention.
She is one of the only medics the Wolf has been able to tolerate.
It likely has something to do with the scent of baking bread escaping her scent patch.
“Your dog. She can’t ride with us. Could you…
” She’s pointing with a gloved hand toward Tsuki with her leash in her mouth, standing between the gurney and the door.
“Tsuki, you have to stay. I’ll be okay.” His request is met with a growl, but she drops the leash in a huff. She approaches to lick his elbow and watches as the paramedics pack up and move out.
“We’ll make sure she’s fed, Rowan, and then lock up,” Logan offers, throwing his arm around Baz’s shoulders.
“Maybe clean up a bit before Gideon gets back. Looks like a crime scene.” It was a crime—a crime against dick-manity.
But at least Rowan won’t get into shit for the mess on top of everything else.
Baz squeezes Rowan’s hand kindly. “You’ll be okay. Finn is waiting.”
“Thanks, guys. I’m sorry for all this.”
The paramedics hoist the gurney up, and he groans. He’s lying on his back now, with two wooden planks immobilizing the cement monolith with straps. It’s all strapped to the gurney and supported by an overhead steel traction bar mounted perpendicular to the gurney.
Still, despite their attempts to stabilize the seven-pound obelisk, his dick is beyond sore. It’s only his enigma healing easing his discomfort, but even his advanced genetic enhancements can’t cure this ailment. It reminds him that he should never, ever complain about his rut-chafing ever again.