Chapter 9
Anthony Blake scanned the crowded ballroom as he moved through the throng.
“Who are you looking for?” asked a familiar voice. Jon, his brother-in-law and oldest friend.
“Michael,” Anthony replied curtly, without so much as a glance at him.
“Did something happen?” Jon asked. “You smell different.”
Of course he did. His instincts were still a mess after the episode with Michael.
“Your knuckles are raw,” Jon went on. “You’ve been in a fight.”
Anthony grimaced. He’d done his best to make himself presentable, but Jon was too observant to miss the signs.
“Michael and I had a bit of a scuffle, nothing serious,” he said, truthfully enough. A spar between alphas wasn’t unusual; friendships between alphas were hard to manage without the occasional clash. Territorial instincts demanded an outlet now and then.
Jon hummed. “Are you looking for him to apologize?”
Turning his head, Anthony shot him an annoyed look. “Why do you assume it was my fault?”
Jon let out a laugh. “Please. I doubt Lord Perfect has done anything wrong. He never does.”
“Will you finally let it go?” Anthony said, shaking his head. “Li chose you, not Michael. Your jealousy is ridiculous.”
“I’m not jealous,” Jon said, taking a sip from his drink. “I know Liam never really wanted him.”
“Yeah, that’s why you still don’t like him,” Anthony said with a snort. “You aren’t jealous at all.”
“I don’t like Terlaine because of how much everyone fawns over him. Even you. It never made sense to me why you befriended him. He’s a bit of a bore, admit it.”
“He isn’t,” Anthony said tersely.
Michael was quieter and more proper than he and Jon, but that didn’t make him boring.
He was—Anthony actually wasn’t sure why he and Michael got along so well.
They had a few shared interests and similar responsibilities, but their personalities should have been too different for them to become friends, considering their designations.
Alphas had trouble getting along even when they had similar personalities.
But somehow, it wasn’t an issue in this case.
Michael was easy to talk to, easy to be around compared to the other alphas of Anthony’s acquaintance—even compared to Jon, who was his oldest friend.
Michael’s alpha pheromones still rubbed him the wrong way from time to time, but it was manageable.
It helped that Michael wasn’t usually one for alpha posturing.
Until this evening.
Anthony’s hands balled into fists as he remembered Michael’s uncharacteristic behavior, the aggression and challenge in his body language. He’d even bitten him, hard enough to draw blood. It almost seemed as though Michael was in rut, except Vos was no longer in its full-moon phase.
The aggression was definitely odd, but it was nothing compared to what had ended their fight.
Anthony was well aware he had been out of line when he’d used his Voice on his friend.
But he couldn’t help himself. Drawing blood wasn’t done in a friendly spar.
Until then, he’d been mostly just humoring his friend, not sparring for real, but being bitten had triggered his aggression and the alpha command had entered his voice before he could think twice.
Using one’s Voice on another alpha was considered highly offensive—it was considered a sign of disrespect—but that was usually it.
Anthony certainly hadn’t expected that his command would affect Michael in any way.
But it had.
His Voice had made Michael obey, as if he were a pup. Or an omega.
The memory alone sent Anthony’s pulse racing, his body flooded with hormones and pheromones he couldn’t begin to sort out.
It wasn’t normal for an alpha to be so affected by another alpha’s Voice.
Almost unheard of. The only known exception was an alpha parent using it on their newly presented pup—and even then, it rarely worked, certainly not well enough to break up a fight.
By every law of instinct and biology, it should have been impossible.
And yet. It had happened. He had felt it working.
There was something else, too.
After years as a covert operative, Anthony’s mind had catalogued every detail of Michael’s behavior—even in the middle of their argument—for later analysis.
And afterward, one thing stood out. Just before he fled the room, Michael’s scent had been unmistakable: fear, mortification—and arousal.
Something about the situation had aroused Michael.
“You’re so worked up,” Jon observed, snapping Anthony out of his confusing thoughts. His blue eyes, a few shades darker than Anthony’s, peered at him carefully. “What’s going on, Ant?”
“Nothing,” Anthony said. “I need to go. Tell Li I said hi.” He strode away before Jon could say something.
He couldn’t see Michael anywhere. It looked like he’d left already.
Pulling his phone out, Anthony messaged him. Where are you? We need to talk.
He could see that the message was received and read.
At long last, Michael replied. Can we just pretend it didn’t happen?
No, Anthony sent back. He was done letting Michael avoid the issue. There clearly was an issue. Michael had been acting off since their trip. What had happened tonight proved that his friend hadn’t been entirely honest.
There was a long pause before Michael’s next message.
Fine. Come to my place, then.
Shoving his phone into his pocket, Anthony strode toward the door.
He was going to get to the bottom of this, one way or another.