Chapter 60: A.L.D.D.
MAX
I can feel my old friend’s eyes on me, scrutinizing me, judging me, slowly trying to figure me out. Superimposing the Max he saw a month and a half ago with the Max now seated next to him in a dead man’s Suburban, covered in a Shiftless girl’s blood. The images don’t match, and I know they don’t, but the fact of the matter is - they don’t have to, because I am a grown ass wolf with a pack all my own, an Alpha in charge of an entire territory, and he is the unfortunate sibling of an unmarriable cunt, that just so happens to be the key to his taking over the kingdom.
It’s not my goddessdamned fault that his father raised a spoiled, manipulative, devious little bitch that cannot follow rules nor respect personal boundaries and it is not my problem that Jericho may need to either purchase her a husband or kill her in order to retrieve his birthright.
What is my fault, lays in a hospital bed three miles from here with two broken wrists, three broken ribs, a dislocated jaw, internal bruising, bond bruising, countless abrasions all of her body, no wolf to help her heal, a goddessdamned tube in her throat so that her lungs don’t have to fight for air, a stubbornness that might prove to be deadly, an unbreakable spirit, a warrior’s heart, twenty-one different sighs of pleasure, and the prettiest, most electrifying blue eyes that ever defied the dark, no doubt created just for a man to drown in.
And with that being the case, Jericho is free to speculate however he likes, but I am in a hurry to ruin a few more lives and I simply do not have time for any more of his questions.
Leaping out of the Suburban like my ass is on fire, I give my still naked friend my back as I stalk toward the overgrown juniper bush next to the Sub-Level Access sign with so much as a glance over my shoulder. The bush is maintained regularly by a guy whose sole purpose in life is to hide things in plain sight with just a few snips of his garden shears, and when I reach the wall that the bush is plastered against, I step right into the middle of it, slipping directly between what is actually two bushes, each shaped to conceal the open stairwell leading beneath the Packhouse.
The sound of the cold metal stairway accommodating two sets of feet forces a growl from my lips and I speak without glancing back, “Did you just streak across the parking lot…to follow me down a hidden stairwell…on your tippy-toes like a proper fucking creeper…just to continue your interrogation of me while your dick waves around like a sad, flag of surrender? Because I’ll be honest, I’ve never touched another man’s dick, but I’ll plant yours in the dirt if you waste even one more second of my day.”
The sound of Jericho’s laughter chases me into the long dark hall beside the basement, where I stop in front of a door about a hundred feet into the corridor.
“No interrogation,” Jericho announces, his pale skin practically glowing in the dark as he approaches. “And no surrender either, asshole. But just to be clear, there is only one place in the whole of your territory that I’d be willing to plant my flag, and that place happens to be somewhere I’m pretty sure you don’t want me to claim.”
That sounded almost like a threat…
...Or an offer…
At least it would have if I didn’t know beyond the shadow of a doubt that Jericho only likes pussy. But…I do know…so threat it is.
I glare at him, choosing to ignore his weird little statement until such a time that it makes better sense. “Due to the fact that you are naked and-” my eyes drop toward his semi erect cock “-practically hard. You’re going to have to wait out here while I grab your clothes.”
Jericho snickers, flipping me off while I raise my knuckles to the door and give it three solid knocks.
Jericho’s dark eyes sparkle with humor before he repositions himself so that he’s standing shoulder to shoulder with me, but facing the opposite direction. Twisting his neck to the right, he looks directly into my face and says, “You wish I was hard, Maxipoo, but the truth is, this is about as limp as I get. Unfortunately, I suffer from a chronic illness called A.L.D.D. that only affects about point - zero - one percent of all male shifters and has no known cure. It can be life threatening if I get too aroused and forget to be careful. So, keep the jokes about my little white flag to yourself, if you don’t mind.”
“Holy shit,” I reply. “I had no idea. What the fuck is that?”
Jericho sighs, shrugging his shoulders. “Abnormally Large Dick Disorder, but no worries. The worst that has happened so far is a few broken backs and a couple of girls that claimed they could no longer feel their legs, but that’s it. Zero kills. I’m a winner.”
I’m fucking speechless.
The door opens and Jared peeks his head out, handing Jericho his clothes as if he’s been waiting with them all this time and as Jericho is getting dressed, I pull out my phone and forward him every nude his sister has ever sent me, including the one from yesterday morning that she posed for in the Packhouse.
The sound of his phone chiming in his pants pocket puts a little pep in my step and I shove through the door, stepping into the basement just as I hear him whine behind me, “Ahhh…hell…nah. What. The. Fuck?”
Kicking the door closed with one boot, I glance around to find all twelve of the late Gamma Corlys’ ruined little minions lined up against the wall with their eyes trained straight ahead and their fear fairly dripping from their pores down onto their feet. Jared stands to the left of them and Finn to the right, and when I take the time to notice I realize Finn is smiling a bit sadistically at a blond boy that happens to be sporting a freshly busted lip.
That must have just happened, and I find myself a little sad that I missed it.
Eyeing them up as I pace the line, I study each and every one of them the way I would an abused public toilet and after only two passes it’s pretty clear which of them are afraid and which of them are just plain stupid.
“Do you know who I am?” I ask, my voice strong, yet low and deadly.
Silence.
Oh yeah…this is going to be fun.
Allowing my claws to shift out and my eyes to spiral, I decide to ask again, this time loud enough to shake the entire Packhouse. I scream, “DO. YOU. KNOW. WHO. I. AM?”