Chapter Twenty-Three
Isley
Isley was going out of his mind with worry.
Lane had messaged him privately to say they had all left for the drop-off over an hour ago but he’d heard nothing since.
Lane had assured him that Laken had the support of his brothers.
Isley was well aware they were all strong alphas and that, with Oakland on their side, they were possibly unbeatable.
Did that make any difference? Not a blind bit when his overactive imagination was playing through every situation where Laken could get hurt.
So here he was, pacing and slurping from a bottle of wine, not even bothering with a glass. He was doing his best to keep it together and do what he’d been told firmly to do—stay home and not chase after Laken to make sure he was okay.
Why are you playing hide and seek when I’m having a major meltdown? he gritted out to his animal.
Since they’d left Laken’s family home the night before, his animal side had all but gone into hiding. Something Isley was not used to at all.
Come on, spill.
The silence was deafening.
What have you done? he asked warily, when he felt his animal side's anxiety. His animal side only hid when he was in trouble.
There’s no need to be like that. I could just be taking a break from all the drama.
Give the heck over, you are usually causing the drama.
There was a dramatic pause. It’s like this…
Like what? Isley prompted at the sudden feeling of greasy agitation coating his insides, like he’d slipped into a greasy baking tray and rolled around while trying to get out.
I told you it was an accident.
What was an accident? A sense of unease unfurled like a kite about to take off on the wind as he slurped quickly from the bottle, needing whatever courage it gave him to hear what was coming. It was going to be bad.
Scent marking Jupiter.
Hang on, what’s this got to do with anything? he asked with trepidation and confusion, taking another slug from the bottle when it made everything feel floaty, which was significantly better than the jumpy anxiety.
I was super excited to be touching Laken before I flew at Jupiter, and I might have left more of a scent mark than is usual.
Why do I get the impression this is a terrible thing? He’d known his animal had been excited, and they’d accidentally marked Jupiter, but he got the feeling he was missing something vital here.
Jupiter smells strongly like you—us.
And… oh gods, what if Laken notices? How could you do this to me when Laken has opened up and is not treating me like I’m the enemy! How! The latter was a slur-screech.
Back to slurping from the bottle of wine, he gulped down more than was sensible.
The floaty feeling inside was now happening on the outside too.
Never good. Isley was a very cheap date when it came to liquor.
He squinted at the bottle, which he had opened when he’d gotten home. Had he drunk all that?
Oops! Working on drowning his worries? Yeah, maybe he should stop that. What if Laken came to get him to explain himself? Jupiter had gone with Laken tonight and in confined spaces, Isley’s marking scent could be easily picked up.
What if he thinks I did something sexy with Jupiter?
He shuddered and swayed on his feet at what this all meant. He was going to have to explain what they’d done at the cabin.
“How could you do this to me?” he slurred aloud to the empty room.
He swung the bottle, sloshing the remaining contents as he continued on. “It’s not you who will have to shoulder the responsibility. No. That’s always me when you get it in your head to do some harebrained scheme.”
He brought the bottle back to his lips, drinking what was left in it, then wine fountained out of his nose as he choked out an alarmed squeak at the heavy pounding on his door. Coughing and swiping haphazardly at his nose and chin to dry himself, Isley eyed the door warily.
“I know you’re in there, Isley. Open up before I kick this door down,” Laken growled menacingly.
“Oh dear,” he warbled and wobbled to the door, which seemed so much further away than normal. He’d never been one to hide, but right then, in his inebriated state, it was exactly what his brain was telling him to do.
“I mean it,” came through the door, and by the sound of Laken, he really did.
Isley gripped the empty wine bottle tighter and released the locks, opening the door and offering a lopsided smile.
“Hey. How’s did it goes?” he said, trying to get his fat tongue to move in his mouth.
Laken glowed from the cold, nudging him out of the way to come inside and shut the door behind him. Leaning against it, he crossed his arms over his chest, dark gray brows rising. The scent of the chilly night air clung to him. Those gray eyes, dark and turbulent, held Isley’s.
“What did you do to Jupiter?” he asked in a deadly voice that should have scared Isley.
What it did was give his traitorous dick ideas.
“Nothin’,” he slurred, “was my animal.” Another lopsided grin. “He’s so naughty,” he said with cheeky exasperation.
Laken’s lips twitched, but he never lost the turbulence. “Is that so? What did your animal do then?”
Isley took a swig from the bottle but, finding it empty, he eyed it sideways, going cross-eyed.
He released a put-out sigh. Isley was usually great at gauging his audience, but not so much when he was seven sheets to the wind.
He knew he was as the floaty feeling was making everything look so pretty, including the man in front of him. “You’re so pretty.”
“W-what?” Laken spluttered. “Let’s get back on track here. What did your animal do, Isley?”
Tipsy and horny, Isley gave his best innocent smile. “Promise us yous won’t be cross.”
He missed Laken’s alarm completely. “I can’t do that when I don’t know just how naughty your animal side is?” he reasoned—or so Isley believed.
Put the wine bottle down, and if he gets mad, I’ll shift and he’ll take one look at my adorable self and everything will be fine.
Isley was pretty sure this was a bad idea. The worst, in fact. For why, he couldn’t quite grasp with the wine making him feel very loose.
He wobbled over to his coffee table and put the bottle down with a clink. He spun back around, wobbled again, hiccupped and grinned at Laken, who’d followed.
“You’re not mad anymore,” he declared, giggling. “That’s good, ‘cause I don’t like it.” He swiped at his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. “Is it hot in ‘ere?”
He reached for the hem of his T-shirt and whipped it off, throwing it towards the couch, not noticing it slip to the floor.
“What are you doing?”
Why was his voice squeaking like that? “Can’t you see properly? Do you need to get your eyes tested?”
“No, I don’t. Tell me what you did, Isley.”
Isley shook his head, but when he stopped the room kept moving. “Oops.”
He swayed right into the warm, great smelling chest, his hands coming up to steady himself. Possibly more to stroke at the firmness beneath the clothing like he’d wanted to do for more than a year.
“You’re so hard,” he groaned in delight, “I knew you would be.”
“Am I now?” Laken chuckled and took hold of his wandering hands. “I think you need some coffee. You’re sloshed. How much of that wine did you have?”
“All of it, silly.” He shook his head, forgetting that was a bad idea when everything swam around him. “Oooh, wow, room spin.”
He giggled, remembering he was supposed to be answering a question. “Nah, coffee will keep me awake all night.” Back was the cheeky grin. “Unless, of course, we aren’t planning on sleeping?” he asked hopefully, batting his eyelashes.
“Gods, Isley,” Laken ground out.
He wasn’t sure if he puckered up or if Laken did, but he moaned at the thrill of the hot, greedy mouth and the questing tongue he sucked right into his mouth.
Laken’s taste was a forbidden fruit. It tantalised moan after moan from him as he took what he wanted.
Each taste, each kiss sending sensations of throbbing need through him.
His entire body pulsed with the desire to get closer until there was nothing between them.
He fought to free his hands from Laken’s grip.
“Wanna touch you,” he gasped, trying to work his body closer until he felt the brush of soft cashmere against his bare chest, his nipples hardening to taut nubs.
Each brush brought with it a sensual torment that drove Isley wild.
His inhibitions around this man were non-existent.
His hips rocked against a hard thigh to give himself some relief.
He chased after Laken’s mouth when he stopped kissing him, despite Isley’s own need to breathe. Air? Who needed that pesky stuff when he could be kissing Laken.
“Don’t stop,” he begged. His leaking dick smearing his boxer briefs agreed wholeheartedly.
“Isley, you’ve drunk—”
“Any your point is?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing right before he tugged his arms free then launched himself, using his animal side to get the boost up, to wrap his nimble legs around Laken’s waist and get some more friction for his aching dick.
The hard muscle beneath Laken’s clothes would do nicely. “Thank you, muscle gods.”
Laken’s laughter stopped him, it was deep and masculine. It was a delightful noise he’d never heard directed at him. Isley was instantly enthralled by it.
“You’re laughing,” he chortled gleefully. “You sound happy ‘cause of me.”
Isley's hands slipped under the sweater, pushing it up out of the way, using his legs to keep him from falling back to the ground and landing on his butt. He pressed his cheek to Laken’s hot chest to listen, his eyes drifting shut, inhaling his intoxicating scent.
“You make me happy, too,” he stated, slurring each word before he slumped into unconsciousness.