03-Strength of the Mate (37 page)

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Authors: Kendall McKenna

Tags: #military, #gay romance, #werewolves

BOOK: 03-Strength of the Mate
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“Aw, come on, Rodriguez,” Dawson said in a teasing tone. “There’s gotta be at least a few two-ten-twos around here.”

Jason gave a vigorous shake of his head. “Hell no. I’m a Marine, so my standards are low. But I have just enough self-respect that I refuse to lower them any more.”

Paul and Dawson both burst into bawdy laughter. Adam got the humor about Marines having low standards, but he knew he had missed something significant.

“What are two-ten-twos?” he asked hesitantly. Adam was half afraid they were going to mock him for not understanding the obvious.

Dawson raised both eyebrows at him, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable. He gave an embarrassed laugh, but didn’t answer right away. Adam was confused by Dawson’s reaction, but he couldn’t help grinning at his obvious discomfort. There was something Dawson would prefer Adam didn’t find out. Naturally, Adam really wanted to know.

If Paul was aware of Dawson’s embarrassment, it didn’t keep him from answering. “A two-ten-two is a person, or a shifter, that’s a two the day before the full moon, a ten the morning after the full moon, and back to a two the morning after that.”

Adam chuckled. “That’s fucked up.” He looked at Dawson, still smiling. “Known a lot of those, haven’t you, Rivers?” Dawson’s sudden awkwardness was pretty damn charming.

Throwing up both hands in surrender, Dawson said, “Only one. And it was way back when I first enlisted. It was a huge mistake, I learned my lesson, and I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Adam laughed again. Dawson’s fallibility made him even sexier.

“It’s okay, Rivers,” Paul said solemnly. “We all make that mistake once. It doesn’t make you less of a man.”

Dawson laughed good naturedly at his own expense. He winked at Adam, obviously relieved by Adam’s accepting reaction to his youthful indiscretion.

Jason stepped past Adam, still placing the supply kits on the blankets. “Do you need any of these?” he asked, holding up one of the brown canvas bags.

“I think Dawson picked a few up, this morning,” Adam replied. “But it doesn’t hurt to stock up, does it?” And it would delay the time when he’d have to ask someone for one of those fucking things. Maybe he should have Tim ship him lube from the States.

How exactly would that conversation go, anyway? Not!

“I’ll send one of the pups to Dawson’s hooch with a bunch of them,” Jason said.

“Thanks, man.” Tim always said rank had its privileges. Adam was starting to agree. He glanced around, trying to picture how things might look tomorrow morning, with a huge number of masculine, fit Marines curling up against each other, naked. “One thing I don’t get, when Dawson took over as pack leader, you guys all said Granger and Carson were lying. You said weres don’t really need to fight and have sex after the full moon run. But Mercer’s ref’ing fights, and you’re passing out lube and condoms.”

Jason stopped what he was doing and looked at Adam for several long moments. He strolled closer as he answered. “It wasn’t about the fighting and the sex,” he finally said. “It was about the violence and the lack of consent.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Adam said, rolling his eyes. “Believe me, I get that part.”

“The morning after a full moon run, we’re rejuvenated,” Jason explained. “We end up with a lot of left over energy and adrenaline. It needs to be dealt with before we can sleep, but we don’t have to fight or fuck. That means we have no reason at all to force anyone weaker, or each other, to do anything. At all.”

“So, what? You guys can use punching bags or go for a run?” Adam joked.

“Yeah, we can,” Jason replied. “And some guys might really do that, if they want to. Some will get into pissing matches, so they can go beat up on each other where Paul can make sure they don’t really hurt anybody.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Adam confessed.

“The guys who get horny will all be here with each other. They’ll have easy access to willing and eager partners. The humans can move around the base without getting harassed or assaulted by any werewolves.”

“Thank you, for that,” said Adam, sincerely. “The mood has been so much lighter the last couple of days. Nobody’s dreading the full moon like we used to. There are a few pricks who doubt anything has changed, but there aren’t that many.”

Jason smirked. “Yeah, well, I bet you get Dawson all settled down really early.” His expression grew serious. “Once his energy converts and he starts the slide toward sleep, only the older, stronger werewolves will be able to stay awake. You have no idea how helpful that is.” Jason seemed really grateful.

“I doubt I have much to do with it.” Adam dismissed Jason’s words with a negligent wave of his hand. “Aren’t there things I’m supposed to do tonight?” He regretted the words immediately. Adam wasn’t a mate. He had no real place in the pack, or even just the
sippe
.

Jason looked puzzled. “No. We got everything covered. If it’s not something we can handle ourselves, we’ve got a human Marine assigned to take care of it.”

“Yeah, I bet Lucas and Tim both could have used some help like that, in the early days.” Adam hoped Jason would grab on to one of his three favorite topics of conversation.

“Are you talking about standing Sentinel?” Jason’s eyebrows rose to his barely-there hairline. “Nobody really does that anymore. Besides, Noah and Jeremy are True Alphas. Pack leader is a temporary status, so they don’t have Sentinels.”

“You’re right,” Adam said hastily. “I didn’t think of that.” He should have realized that on his own. He was always a lesser version of Tim.

“Before Lucas, no one had stood Sentinel in decades, if not centuries.” Jason was enthusiastic about his topic, as usual. “It hasn’t really been necessary. Mates are always involved with the packs, but Sentinels are something else. I don’t know of any others, right now. I think your brother decided to do it because he saw Lucas, and didn’t realize he didn’t have to.” He made it seem okay that Adam couldn’t be a Sentinel.

Adam shook his head. “Nah. It’s in Tim’s nature to look out for people.”

“It’s in your nature, too,” Jason said, like it was obvious. “I remember telling you how important our dominant wolves are to us. You do a helluva job helping Dawson stay balanced and happy. It’s obvious to everybody you’ve got his back. You’re okay with him being a leader, but you take care of yourself, so you don’t drain him so bad he’s got nothing left for us when we need him.”

Adam shifted from foot to foot, burying his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “I don’t know about all that. But he’s important to you guys, so I just try to make sure he’s always there when you need him.”

Jason gave him a wide smile as he resumed his task of distributing supply kits. “Looks like Dawson made the perfect choice.”

Adam’s reply was halted by Dawson’s approach. “Things are under control here. I wanna check the gym, make sure the pads and pugil sticks have been delivered. Ready to go?” asked Dawson.

“Yeah. Let’s go,” Adam agreed readily.

“So, Madison,” Jason called from across the room. His mischievous smile set off warnings in Adam’s head. “I’ll have someone drop off several cases of the bang bags in your guys’ hooch. We can’t have you running out at the wrong moment.”

Embarrassment began to creep over Adam, before he realized Jason was deliberately trying to get under his skin. “You do that, Jase. We don’t want to end up over stocked ’cause you’re not using your share of them.” Jason gave him a funny look, but didn’t seem angry. From the corner of his eye, Adam saw Dawson turn abruptly to look at him sharply.

“Doh!” Paul said from the far end of the room. “He nailed you.”

Dawson burst into laughter, guiding Adam toward the door. Laughter followed them as they stepped outside.

Adam slid his sunglasses from the neck of his T-shirt and slipped them on.

“You called him Jase,” Dawson said quietly, putting on his hat and sunglasses.

Adam froze in his tracks, an icy chill flooding through his body. His stomach did a queasy roll. “What did you say?” he asked, his voice rough from his constricted throat.

Dawson came to a stop beside him. “You called Rodriguez Jase,” he said quietly. “He noticed it, too. He just didn’t say anything.”

Adam struggled to breathe. His shoulders ached with tension. He fisted his hands against his thighs. Adam had betrayed his brother. He’d called someone else by his brother’s nickname. He liked Jason Rodriguez. He was so comfortable around him, he’d called him by his brother’s nickname without thinking about it. Adam didn’t deserve that kind of comfort. He didn’t deserve to have an easy friendship that made him forget his brother, even for just a moment.

“Are you ready to tell me the rest of the story of how he died?” asked Dawson.

“There’s nothing to tell.” Adam’s voice cracked. He swallowed hard.

“If there’s nothing to tell, why are you as still as a statue? Your face is pale. Whatever happened has haunted you.” Dawson’s voice was quiet, but his tone made it clear he wasn’t going to listen to excuses. “I know you blame yourself for his death,” Dawson continued. “But you’re not responsible. You did everything you could to protect and save him.”

“Don’t say that!” Adam cried. He couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. The world spun around him. “You don’t know that. How can you know that?”

In an instant, Dawson was directly in front of him, nearly touching. He took off his shades and hung them from the neck of his shirt. “I know because you took a bullet while defending him.” Dawson pressed his palm to the place where Adam’s scar was covered by his T-shirt.

Adam shook his head, unable to meet Dawson’s eyes. Dawson had it wrong. Adam didn’t deserve the credit Dawson gave him. He’d failed his brother; he’d failed Jase. He didn’t deserve anyone’s compassion, especially Dawson’s. “I-I-I-It was my fault. I left him to die alone ’cause I had t-t-t-to be a badass.” His voice was strained.

Dawson grasped Adam’s shades, making him flinch. Adam couldn’t move, so he couldn’t resist when Dawson removed his sunglasses.

“It’s not that simple,” Dawson said with certainty. He leaned in so close, his breath drifted over Adam’s cheek. “It never is. Look at me, Adam.”

Adam clenched his jaw until it ached. His throat ached and he swallowed hard. “I ran after them ’cause they scared my baby brother. I had to prove I wasn’t scared of anything. I had to prove I could handle things, like Eric and T-T-T-Tim.”

“None of that makes it your fault,” said Dawson fiercely. “Look at me, Adam.”

He couldn’t. He stared into the distance just over Dawson’s shoulder. Adam couldn’t stand to see condemnation in Dawson’s eyes.

“Adam! Look at me!” Dawson’s tone was commanding, but still held a note of concern.

Scowling, Adam took several deep breaths. He steeled himself and finally looked up into Dawson’s eyes.

“Did you take a gun and shoot your brother?” Dawson demanded, his voice quiet but intense.

“No,” Adam replied mournfully. He fucking hated reliving that night.

“You said Jase shouted. You chased after those assholes because they scared your little brother. Did you know Jase was wounded when you left him?”

Adam knew he’d already told Dawson this part. The question didn’t make sense. “No.”

“You took a bullet to the chest trying to catch the guys who’d attacked your brother, right?”

“Yes,” Adam replied through clenched teeth. He needed to put space between them but he couldn’t move.

“You dragged yourself home, with a gunshot wound in your chest, to make sure your brother was okay, right?” Dawson looked like he was hurting, as if he shared Adam’s pain.

“Yes!” Adam shouted, wishing the sound could obliterate the memory. “He was on the floor, in his own blood, dying!” He couldn’t catch his breath. Adam couldn’t get enough air in his lungs. He couldn’t see Dawson’s lavender eyes, anymore. All he could see was Jase, sprawled on the floor. His skin was ashen, his lips had no color. His hazel eyes—the same eyes all four of them had—were dull and sightless.

“And what did you do? Let him bleed to death so you could take care of yourself?” Dawson’s tone was mocking.

“Fuck you!” Adam shouted, white hot rage sizzling inside him. “I called for help and did everything I knew how to help my brother!” He could see his own blood-covered hands pressing T-shirts and towels to the hole in Jase’s sternum. When the paramedics finally got there, Adam collapsed beside his brother, surrounded by the saturated proof of his failure. His eyes burned. Tears threatened, and Adam blinked them back.

“If you didn’t shoot your brother, and you didn’t know he was hurt, and you almost bled to death trying to help him, then how is his death your fault?” Dawson challenged Adam. The look in his eyes made it clear that Adam wouldn’t be running from his memories this time.

Adam clenched his jaw until it hurt. His fists were still clenched, so hard he thought he’d cut himself with his own fingernails. His breathing was harsh, his body shook as he struggled to look away from Dawson’s eyes. “If I hadn’t left him all alone, I would have gotten help sooner. I would have stopped him from bleeding to death before help got there.”

“And everyone told you that, right?” Dawson arched one eyebrow. He wasn’t going to let Adam ignore his own time in the hospital. “The paramedics. The people in the emergency room. The police. Your own doctor. Everyone told you it was your fault, right? Everyone blamed you, right?”

Adam’s eyes were wet, ready to spill over. He swallowed over and over, fighting back a sob when he spoke. “I couldn’t help him!” The anguish in his voice rang in his own ears. “I didn’t do anything right. I couldn’t save Jase, and my brother died in my arms!”

His voice broke on the last word. Agony spilled out of Adam with every shuddering breath. Tears streaked his face as pain wracked his body. Adam felt Jase in his arms like it had happened yesterday. His knees shook and he started to sink toward the ground.

Dawson was suddenly pressed tight to Adam’s body. The strength of Dawson’s arms around Adam’s back was comforting. There was a wall at Adam’s back, and cool shade enveloped him. He wrapped his arms around Dawson’s shoulders, clinging to him, desperately.

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