“Do you think he’s blinked at all in the past ten minutes?”

“I think he averages one blink per minute, to be honest.”

“If he stares any harder, Dylan’s going to get holes permanently drilled into the back of his head.”

“I’m surprised Dylan hasn’t noticed yet. Surely he can feel that. You can’t just not notice a stare like that. Our instincts always tell us.”

“Maybe his instincts are messed up?”

“Hell no. Dylan has, like, wicked sharp instincts. There’s no way he hasn’t noticed.”

“Maybe he’s ignoring Blake on purpose.”

“Oh shit, maybe. That’s so fucking coy. I’m impressed.”

“I can hear you,” Blake drawled, words pointed but lacking any real heat.

“To be honest, we weren’t really sure you could,” Lux said from where she sat across the table from him. His gaze wasn’t on her though. His head was turned slightly, looking far off over her shoulder, locked on the table at the opposite side of the room, where Dylan sat. “You look really out of it.”

“I am perfectly conscious of my surroundings,” he muttered, lifting his mug to his lips. The smell of coffee was strong, but the taste was sweetened down. He felt it’s warmth spread through his veins, pulling him awake.

“Hate to break it to you, but your surroundings don’t include the table way over there.” Ben said from his side, shoveling giant chunks of waffle into his mouth.

Blake finally turned his eyes away from Dylan’s back, rounding his gaze on the falcon shifter. The man grinned, cheeks full of food. Blake narrowed his eyes. There was no reason to deny he’d been staring. He hadn’t exactly been subtle about it. “I was ignoring you because you all seem to get a kick out of gossiping about me while I’m right here.”

“Come on, dude. We didn’t mean any harm by it,” he said, swallowing his food and gulping down orange juice.

“It’s natural to be drawn to your mate,” Viv said from beside Lux. She cut delicately into her eggs, meeting Blake’s gaze from across the table. Her tone was casual and calm, but there was a teasing glint in her eyes and a slight curve to her lips.

Blake frowned. “He’s not my mate. Not really. Not anymore.”

She shrugged, lifting her fork to her mouth. “Whatever you say.”

Blake huffed, but turned back to the food on his plate. Breakfast time at the Shadow Pack was one of the two most popular daily events, second only to dinner. The entire pack often filtered into the massive dining hall, filling up the rows upon rows of long tables and benches. Lunch was a far less formal event, with food left out to pick at while people wandered in and out whenever they grew peckish.

He was seated with Lux, Viv, and Benjamin at the table they’d claimed as their own. Dylan, however, was seated across the room, near where Rajiah and Arulean sat, surrounded by a few others. Marcus and Lucy sat nearby, a baby bouncing on Lucy’s lap as she ate. The witches sat with them, and Lily was enraptured by Cynthia, clearly hanging on her every word.

There were a few others around them that Blake knew by face, if not by name. They were men and women he’d seen running patrols with Dylan, members of the more physical side of the security team.

As he ate, Blake found his gaze wandering back to their table, staring at Dylan’s back. He had a nice back. Broad shoulders and slim hips, with a figure that was built far more rugged and toned than any omega Blake had bothered to notice. Adrien sat on his lap, bouncing on Dylan’s leg. He chatted idly amongst those around him, but the words were lost at this distance.

He looked...content. There was a smile that never seemed far from his lips. His posture and expression were relaxed, and he was quick to laugh. Perhaps not a full-bodied laugh, but the soft chuckle he tended to make, shoulders hunching and chin tilting downward as he ducked his head.

Blake watched as he idly shifted Adrien from one leg to the other. He watched as he reached out for Lily’s plate to help her cut her food, as he kindly prodded her to keep eating and made sure she wasn’t making a mess. They were simple movements, done almost off-handedly. They were the automatic actions of a parent, used to dealing with their own children.

This wasn’t the Dylan that Blake had met a few months ago. That Dylan had been uncertain, anxious and nervous. He’d looked and felt out of place in his role as a parent. His movements, posture, and scent had been awkward as he tried to wedge himself into the role. Not for lack of trying, but simply because he didn’t seem to be in the right frame of mind to be a parent.

This Dylan, however, had done a complete one-eighty. He held himself confidently, and he handled their children with that same confidence. He spoke softly and gently, but with a firm hand that Lily responded to. He no longer seemed to have qualms or reservations, but took his role seriously, and with grace. He’d settled into parenthood nicely, and it showed. He was a good father.

And that made something instinctual stir inside Blake. Something he feared putting a name to. He chalked it up to simply being glad his children were well-taken care of and left it at that.

“It looks like our dear alpha is smitten,” Ben cooed, leaning against Blake’s side.

Blake shoved him off and Ben chuckled. “I’m not smitten. I’m just...curious.” Curious was a safe word. He could roll with curiosity.

“Curious about what, exactly?” Lux asked, putting her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her laced fingers. Her eyes sparkled conspiratorially, and her innocence was a clear facade. “What about Dylan has sparked your curiosity, all of a sudden?”

They were all watching him now, and he glanced back to Dylan, taking in his posture, his stature, and his whole demeanor. What exactly about him was Blake curious about? Many things, but he needed something safe to appease his friends. “I simply...” he started slowly, mind whirling as he picked up a piece of the puzzle that he was finding hard to place. “Find it hard to believe that he’s really a soldier.”

Benjamin snorted at his side, leaning an elbow on the table and turning on the bench to fully face Blake. “Is it really that hard to believe? The dude is ripped.”

That brought a whole new set of imagery to Blake’s mind, and he shook his head, trying to physically dislodge it before it could take root.

“He’s been a soldier far longer than you two have been mates,” Viv said, raising one eyebrow. She didn’t quite smile, but the look in her eyes was amused.

“It’s just...hard to connect the Dylan I met last time I was here with the image of a soldier. He was so...” Docile. Dependent. Clingy. Uncertain. Self-conscious. Fragile. Wavering. Blake tilted his head, lips twisting into a small frown. “Meek.”

Ben laughed, loudly and suddenly, half choking on the juice he’d been drinking. He pounded on his chest, voice rough and ragged as he spoke, “Meek? Dylan? Yeah, no. That man gives you a run for your money constantly.”

Blake cocked an eyebrow, a soft scoff leaving his lips. But then Lux was speaking before he could say anything more. “Seriously, Blake.” She reached across the table, putting a hand on his arm, eyes wide, pleading, and understanding. “Last time you were here...six months ago, Dylan was under a lot of stress. None of us could blame him for the strangeness of his actions. The two of you had argued, he was under the effects of pregnancy, and then he had to deal with the fact that his mate couldn’t remember him. It was...well, that’s enough to make anyone meek and feel helpless.”

“He’s better now,” Viv said firmly. She twisted in her seat, glancing over her shoulder across the room. A faint smile showing on her face. “He’s grown from it. Gotten stronger. Gotten back to himself. That,” she nodded in Dylan’s direction, “is closer to the man you fell in love with than the man you met six months ago was.”

Blake crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back to level her with a flat stare. “According to what Rajiah told me, I fell in love with him before I ever came to the Shadow Pack. Childhood love or whatever.”

Viv scoffed, rolling her eyes, but there was a good-natured smirk curving her lips. “Yeah, well, you’ve told us about it enough, I feel like I was there.”

Heat prickled the back of Blake’s neck, and he frowned. Had he really been that sort of husband? One to gush and babble about his mate? Truthfully, he could see himself being that way, if he ever found someone worthwhile. He simply never thought he’d find someone he cared that deeply for. His whole life had been built on a drifter’s lifestyle, with no roots or attachments, until he met the Shadow Pack. But even then, he hadn’t thought he’d ever be one to form a deep mateship bond.

Thinking about it made him feel...empty. His chest felt hollow, like something had been removed. A black hole that nothing touched, leaving him grasping at straws for some kind of meaning. He knew he didn’t like bonds and attachments. He knew that about himself. He’d grown up with only temporary lovers, and he’d purposefully led a life that allowed him to travel and see the world, not settle down. Yet now, when he thought about that life, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d been waiting...waiting for something...but he couldn’t for the life of him remember what he was waiting for.

He knew for a fact he’d never been particularly attached to the idea of mateship, yet when he thought about it now, it only made that empty pit in his chest bigger.

“...see for yourself.”

Blake blinked rapidly, shaking off the contemplative haze that had settled over him. He turned away from the void in his chest and focused his attention back to his surroundings. He turned to look at Ben. “What was that?”

Ben gave him a flat look, but didn’t question it. He waved a fork around while he spoke. “I was saying, if you don’t believe Dylan is a soldier, maybe you should see for yourself.”

“And how would I do that?”

Ben shrugged, shoveling another chunk of waffle into his mouth. “I think he’s training people today. You can go by the guard compound and check him out.” He waggled his eyebrow, nudging Blake with his elbow while Viv snorted from across the table.

Blake pushed him away, lifting his coffee mug to his lips. His eyes landed on Dylan’s back once more. He was half turned on his seat, speaking with a couple men who had stopped by his table. They were big men, built strong, confidence radiating from their posture. Alphas. Blake would notice that posturing anywhere. They had their full attention on Dylan, who spoke with them easily, radiating his own confidence and openness, relaxed with the conversation.

Blake felt himself bristle and had to damn near choke himself to keep the growl from emitting from his throat. “Maybe I’ll do just that.”

* * *

Blake wasn’t sure there had ever been a time where he’d willingly gone into the Shadow Pack’s guard house. If he had, they were memories obscured by their relevance to Dylan. He knew the layout of it, but he knew the layout to all the buildings belonging to the Shadow Pack, from the castle to the surrounding compound. He’d seen the inside of the building through security feeds, but he’d never once seen it in person.

Until now.

As soon as he stepped through the doorway, he was hit with the mixed scent of musk, sweat, dirt, wolf, metal, and the sharp chemical smell of cleaning products. From what he could tell through observation, it wasn’t against the rules for omegas to join the guard; it was just less common. Alphas were the most common volunteers, as the daily training and patrol runs gave them a good outlet for their natural energy and aggression. Betas were common as well, but the few and far between omegas, along with the neutral scent of the betas, was severely dwarfed by the overwhelming scent of alpha.

Blake felt distinctly uncomfortable.

He’d never been an alpha who was about physical aggression and dominating posturing. That had been his brother’s thing. He’d grown up small and scrawny, hitting a growth spurt long before his body filled out. He couldn’t intimidate anyone, least of all, command their respect for his alpha status. So he’d made do with what he had. He’d learned how to charm people and talk his way into their good graces. He’d used his technological skills to get ahead and market himself in that sector. He’d become an alpha known for respect and stature, one not to be trifled with, and he’d never had to do so through physical force.

That wasn’t to say he hadn’t been in his fair share of fights. He knew how to fight. He wouldn’t go deep into enemy territory as a spy without that skill set. It simply wasn’t high on his list of useful skills, and it wasn’t one where he’d kept up with the training. He fought more on instinct, driven by his inner wolf and his alpha instincts. He found since he’d filled out physically, he made an intimidating figure. That, combined with his way with words and blackmail, meant he could often get his own way without the need to actually puff himself up.

A confident smile, a casual tone, shoulders back, and chin lifted got him a long way in life.

Since truly establishing himself in adulthood, Blake had never really felt threatened as an alpha. He was confident in himself and in his body.

Yet right here and now, he felt that confidence waver. The wolf in him bristled, not used to the strong cacophony of alpha scents all in one place. He felt his body tense, movements stiff as he moved through the guard house. He knew, logically, that his stance was the perfect picture of calm and unruffled confidence: his shoulders were down and pulled back, chin raised but posture slightly slouched, hands in his pockets and walking almost leisurely. Inside, however, he felt as stiff as stone, on edge, and he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise.

The building itself was a huge single story structure, situated in the shadow of the castle, yet far enough away that it didn’t intrude on the castle’s beauty. The floorplan of the building was mostly open. As he moved down the main hallway, there were many doors. Some led to break rooms, their own kitchens and mess hall, and storage rooms for all sorts of things including uniforms, gear, and weapons. There was a string of offices and conference rooms, as well as bigger debriefing rooms. There was even a room with security monitors, though it wasn’t nearly as big and ornate as the one in the castle proper, where Blake often worked.

The back half was large and open, with high ceilings spanning the whole width of the building. Lockers lined the walls, along with benches. There was no need for the locker rooms often found in human establishments. Shifters didn’t have the same sense of modesty. That tended to not bother them when they all had to undress around each other to shift anyway.

The center of the room was filled with a variety of exercise equipment, an indoor track, punching bags, and several rings for fight training.

Blake made his way to the back room with as much confidence as he could muster, outwardly unbothered by the curious stares he got from the people he passed in the halls. He made eye contact with many of them, smiling and moving on with just a casual word of greeting. They eyed him curiously, but none of them questioned his presence. He was, after all, high-ranking in the pack order. And truthfully, anyone in the pack was welcome in the guard house training room. It was the weapon and gear stores that were off-limits. Still, he’d never been here before, and that alone would turn a few heads.

He knew they’d chalk it up to having something to do with Dylan, which made Blake bristle further with a self-consciousness that he hadn’t felt in years. It was only made worse by the fact that their assumption would be one-hundred percent correct. He was only here to see Dylan.

Still, he couldn’t back out now. Word would spread and get back to Dylan, and he didn’t want to be seen as a coward. More than that, his curiosity wouldn’t let him back away now. There was an innate need in him to see Dylan at work, something that drove him forward and tugged at him with invisible strings.

He paused once he slipped into the large training room. It was massive, open, and a lot to take in at once. He shuffled automatically to the side, leaning against a wall while taking it all in. Nothing about this situation was battle-worthy, but he felt like he was preparing for one anyway, and he liked to know his surroundings before moving forward.

There were people scattered amongst the equipment and along the walls, talking in pairs or standing alone at the lockers. Some of them sat on the benches as they tied their shoes or checked their phones. Most of them were dressed in shades of black, typical of the guard uniform. While outside, they bundled up more, the warmth in this room was comfortable, bordering on too hot with all the shifters in one place radiating body heat. The ones not preparing to move outside wore simple shorts and t-shirts, though some of them still wore pants. Some shifters occupied the workout machines, a few ran the track, and there was the rapid then slow beat of a few at the punching bags.

The largest gathering of people, however, was over at the fighting rings. Blake’s attention honed in on it, eyes sweeping the crowd. The floor of that section of the training room was lightly padded, and the rings themselves were merely drawn onto the floor. Simple, but effective for giving the people training there some space. Because the rings weren’t raised, it took him a moment to spot Dylan. The crowd around the ring shifted, and then he could clearly see the omega.

He stood at the center of one of the rings, dressed in sweatpants that hugged his hips and his ass, loose but tight enough to show off his thighs. The tank top he wore was black and tight, clinging to his torso and showing off his broad chest and narrow waist. His arms, neck, and goddamn collarbones were on display, and it made something deep within Blake stir.

Blake was moving across the room before he even registered pushing off the wall. His stride was slow and casual, but there was clear purpose in his steps, and his eyes remained fixed on Dylan. He could feel his inner wolf pacing, interest piqued and its focus solely on the omega.

He positioned himself off to the side of the crowd, walking along it in a wide arc before reaching the wall. He stood against the lockers there, leaning back with his ankles crossed and his arms crossed loosely over his chest. Silent, patient, and watching.

Dylan stood strong and tall in the ring, face hard and eyes unflinching as he looked around the group of men and women. He wasn’t a man of many words, and it showed. He was blunt and to the point. He was, however, a man who commanded respect from all the alphas, betas, and the rare omegas around him.

“Odds are, you will meet opponents bigger than you. You will meet those stronger than you. They will try to intimidate you, and your wolf might fall prey to it. I’m here to teach you how to use your opponent’s strength against them. To stand against those who think only brute force can win.” He turned in a slow circle as he spoke, pausing when he was facing the wall Blake leaned against.

His eyes latched onto Blake’s through the crowd as his rotation came to a stop. Nothing akin to surprise lit his features. He simply pinned Blake with a gaze that was unflinching, making Blake suspicious that Dylan had known he was there all along. Which, given how Blake seemed to always be aware of where Dylan was in a room, shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him. It was, however, a little unnerving. It set him on edge, knowing that this omega didn’t fear him, wasn’t surprised by him, and held him captive with a gaze that was dark and challenging on levels he didn’t understand, but felt himself reacting to anyway.

There was a pause in Dylan’s speech, and in that moment, Blake could have sworn he saw the edges of Dylan’s eyes lift in amusement. It made him stiffen, feeling like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Heat crawled up the back of his neck.

But then Dylan was turning away from him. “Jamison,” he barked, voice loud and sudden, making several of the men and women jump. He took a step back, whipping his head around to pin a man with his gaze. “Help me demonstrate.”

An alpha stepped forward, and Blake felt himself bristle. The man was huge. Far bigger than Blake. And while he didn’t have the height of an alpha such as Arulean, the man’s arms had to be thicker around than his neck, which was saying something when the circumference of his neck was similar to that of a honeyed ham.

He moved into the ring of people, and Dylan turned to face him in the open space. He towered over Dylan, dwarfing him with his pure size. Something rumbled through Blake. Something dark, sharp, and on edge. He didn’t realize he was growling until the noise reached his ears, and then he clenched his jaw tight to cut off the sound.

No one seemed to notice, but Blake was frozen in shock at himself. He never let his instincts get the better of him. Not like this. His instincts as an alpha had never slipped past him without his knowledge. It was, quite frankly, embarrassing.

Dylan didn’t turn around, but there was a slight shake to his shoulders that had heat creeping onto Blake’s cheeks with the realization that he probably had noticed. How he’d noticed when no one else had, Blake had no idea, but a lot of things about Dylan made no sense and left him baffled.

The omega dropped into a defensive stance: knees bent, body turned, hands held up in loose fists. The alpha mirrored him, eyes narrowing on his opponent, and when Dylan nodded, he charged.

Blake was prepared for his body’s reaction this time. He felt himself stiffen, but he put a firm hold on the rumble in his throat.

The alpha charged Dylan quickly, but Dylan easily sidestepped him. He caught a flying fist, easily deflecting the blow off to the side before pivoting and slamming his elbow into the alpha’s lower back, just above the kidney. The man grunted, eyes going wide with pain and surprise as he stumbled. He managed to catch himself, and when he turned, there was a new spark of anger in his eyes, driven by embarrassment. Dylan merely smirked, falling back into his stance.

The sparring session was thankfully short, and it became clear very quickly Dylan had the experience and the upper hand. Blake found himself relaxing, a natural smirk curling at the corner of his lips. Dylan wasn’t one to put on a show, and Blake had the sneaking suspicion he wasn’t used to teaching, either. But he did what he could. Every time the alpha charged him, he deflected blows, threw some of his own punches, and somehow managed to send the bigger man nearly sprawling to the ground. As the alpha picked himself and his pride back up, Dylan explained in short, clipped sentences what he’d done.

It was straightforward, to the point, and so incredibly Dylan that Blake found himself snorting short huffs of laughter as Dylan said things like, “He rushed me because he knows I’m an omega. A knee to the balls will stop any advancing man, big or small.”

The sharp twisted feeling in Blake’s gut, born from a strange, protective instinct, soon settled into a proud warmth as it became clear Dylan was far more capable than he’d given him credit for.

After the demonstration, Dylan told them to split into pairs and spread around the designated fighting rings to spar and practice. Blake stayed where he was, eyes following Dylan as he moved around between them. He corrected stances, offered quick advice, and demonstrated different punches, kicks, blocks, and throws.

Blake wasn’t sure how long it lasted, but it was long enough that people started to become uncomfortably aware of his presence. He found them eyeing him from around the room, the ones Dylan was instructing and the others in the training gym. Some of them were subtle about it, peering over their shoulders or past their friends. Others were far more open, staring without shame at where he was propped up against the row of lockers.

He ignored the subtle stares and met the eyes of the obvious ones with a grin and a sharp look until they looked away.

Dylan ignored him the whole time, and Blake wasn’t sure if he was annoyed by that or relieved. Part of him wanted the omega’s attention, offended in principle that he was being ignored, but another part of him was simply grateful he was free to stare at Dylan without having to acknowledge it.

Still, the way Dylan moved, the extra sway in his hips, the slow grace to his measured steps, the tilt of his head to expose his neck at casual moments, gave Blake the distinct impression that the omega knew very well Blake was staring.

Blake didn’t move from his spot until Dylan called an end to the training session, gathered everyone in for a final word, and then dismissed them. The crowd dispersed, both men and women covered in a sheen of sweat, scents of their secondary genders strong and mixing in a harsh cacophony. It was a natural smell in a gym, and it was one Blake had never been particularly fond of. He tried to keep his tendency to scrunch up his nose to a minimum, controlling his face and ensuring it remained far more neutral.

As the others dispersed, moving individually, in pairs or in threes around the gym and to their lockers, talking idly amongst themselves, Blake finally pushed off his perch. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he made his way over to where Dylan still stood in the center of the sparring rings. He had a water bottle in his hand and was talking to a woman that had been in his group.

Blake came up behind Dylan, but he didn’t miss the way the man’s posture shifted, back straightening and shoulders pulling back just slightly. Still, he didn’t otherwise acknowledge Blake’s presence.

Blake made eye contact with the woman over Dylan’s shoulder. She smelled distinctly of omega, and while she was much shorter and smaller than Dylan, her features and body padded with the soft curves omegas tended to have, though she had a distinct muscle tone about her that refused to be ignored. She met Blake’s eyes steadily, fiercely, and he found himself almost taking a step back with the intensity of it.

Almost, but not quite.

He tilted his chin up and to the side. It was a subtle gesture, just a slight movement, but it was one that left him staring down his nose at her and gesturing for her to move.

She rolled her eyes, making Blake bristle slightly. Was he really not that intimidating as an alpha, or was it merely that the omegas running security here were tougher than nails? Though, he supposed being around alphas who were physically asserting themselves all day would desensitize anyone.

Still, she mumbled something to Dylan, nodded over his shoulder, and then turned to leave with the ghost of a smile playing across her lips.

“Nice lesson,” Blake remarked as he came closer, stepping around to slip in front of Dylan. The omega watched him, eyes hard and wary. He lifted a bottle to his lips, taking a long moment to suck down the water. His eyes never left Blake, but Blake’s gaze roamed down the long column of his throat to where his Adam’s apple bobbed and a drop of water had leaked from the corner of his lips to slide down his tanned skin. “Not gonna lie, didn’t really expect you to be in a leadership role. But it suits you.”

Dylan lowered his bottle, breathing heavily for a moment as he sucked down air, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. “What’re you doing here, Blake?”

Blake’s eyes flickered back up to Dylan’s, an easy smile on his lips. “Am I not allowed to stop by and see how you’re doing?”

Dylan’s expression went flat, eyes unamused and expressionless as he raised one eyebrow silently.

Being pinned by that deadpan stare, Blake felt his insides squirm. He had to stop himself before he started shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I wanted to see what this place looked like?”

Dylan’s brow fell, and with a voice as flat as his expression, he said, “You’ve never bothered to come in here before.”

Blake shrugged with one shoulder. “A first time for everything.”

Dylan snorted then, rolled his eyes. “You said it smells like a boys locker room with a bunch of meathead alphas trying to inflate the size of their egos and dicks with scent alone.”

A bark of a laugh bubbled out of him before he could stop it. “Yeah, yup, that sounds like me.”

He could see the corner of Dylan’s mouth twitch into a small smile. “It was.”

“I believe it.”

“So why’re you really here?”

“Are you always this straight forward?”

“I try to be. Now answer the question before I leave.”

“Now, now, no need to get snippy...hey, wait!” He reached out instinctively, grabbing Dylan’s arm as he started to turn around. He stopped, eyes narrowing on where Blake held him still. When his glare rose to meet Blake’s eyes, he pulled his hand back, holding them up in a gesture of surrender. The steeliness in Dylan’s eyes sent shivers down his spine, but Blake couldn’t help but find his frown adorable.

What was wrong with him?

“Okay, sorry. Just...hold your horses, yeah?” He let his hand drop, slipping it back into his pocket. The other scratched the back of his neck while he let his eyes wander the room, no longer able to hold Dylan’s gaze. “I was just...I mentioned at breakfast that I found it hard to believe you were an actual soldier.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dylan stiffen, and he could smell the bitter tinge of irritation leak into his scent. Blake put his hand up, trying to pacify the omega as he scrambled over his words. “I don’t mean that to offend you, but...Dylan, come on. You know I have no memory of you before. And the last time I saw you…” Dylan winced, and Blake found himself smiling as he continued in a softer tone. “Yeah. So that, combined with you being this natural, tender father...I just had a hard time fitting soldier into the mix.”

Dylan looked at him sharply, something strange in his eyes as he stared at Blake. His lips went slack for only a moment before pursing into a small frown. Blake found it hard not to wilt under the intensity of his gaze, but there was nothing particularly hostile about it.

“You...you think I’m a good father?” he asked, almost too soft to hear over the din of conversation rising and falling in the gym, the slam of lockers, the beating of flesh on canvas punching bags, the clank of weights, and the footfalls of runners.

Blake blinked. “Well...yeah. It’s kind of obvious.”

A beat of silence passed in which Dylan looked completely taken aback, and then a small, genuine smile curved the edges of his lips. Slow and slight, yet it lit up his entire face.

It took Blake’s breath away.

Then he stepped forward, dropping his empty water bottle to the side. He moved with a grace that was animalistic. A wolf stalking its prey, and Blake was the hapless rabbit too afraid to run. Dylan pinned him with lidded eyes, hazel irises dark and molten. He slid forward, hips moving in a slow and enchanting rhythm.

He crowded Blake’s personal space, stopping when he was only inches away. He stood tall, chest nearly pressed to Blake’s. He tilted his chin up, head moving back and to the side. His lips were parted, hovering and pointed toward Blake’s. His beautiful neck exposed. His smell was cinnamon and spice, burnt sugar and raw honey. It burned Blake’s nose, setting his blood ablaze in his veins. It filled his lungs and left him needing more.

Blake’s heart hammered in his chest, breath short and each one filled with Dylan’s scent, drowning out the smell of the gym. The noises and voices seemed to fade into insignificance around them. Blake’s awareness zeroed in on the man in front of him. They were in their own little pocket of space, a bubble just for them.

Fear pounded through his veins, worry and guilt flooded his senses, but there was a newfound excitement along with it. It was a spark, a passion and a thrill that he hadn’t felt in ages. It made him feel young again. It made him feel alive.

For once, he didn’t allow himself to overthink it. He pushed the guilt, the dread and the worry aside. He wouldn’t think about what this meant, or if it meant anything at all. For now, in this moment, he let himself merely stand there while Dylan drew closer, sizing him up.

The omega’s eyes flickered across his face, down to his lips before rising back up to meet his gaze. Eyes half lidded, breath brushing over Blake’s lips, Dylan smiled.

Blake felt as if the earth was ripped out from under him.

“Despite what you may think of me,” Dylan said, words slow, voice low and rough, “I was a soldier before you, and I’m a soldier now.”

He moved then, far too quick and far too sudden for Blake to react in time. Dylan grabbed his arm, twisting to put his back to Blake. He pulled, and Blake felt his body give.

Then the ground was actually ripped out from beneath him.

Dylan twisted and spun, pulling Blake over his hip and rolling him over his back. Blake landed hard and dazed, breath punched from his lungs and staring up at the bright harsh lighting of the gym. He only had a second of reprieve before he was being flipped over, one arm twisted behind his back just enough to hurt, and a knee pressed into his spine.

He grunted, body struggling out of instinct more than anything. His inner alpha was reacting to the physical violence like a wolf snapping its teeth. But then the grip on his arm tightened and the knee pressed harder into his back until he stilled.

Dylan leaned in close. His breath tickled the hair by Blake’s ear. His voice was just as dark and molten, but there was an edge of playfulness that lifted the edges. Blake sensed the amusement that rumbled between his words. “Get used to it.”

And then the weight was gone, as was the grip on his arm. Dylan stood and walked away. He grabbed his fallen water bottle and strode across the room to his locker without a backwards glance. Blake propped himself up on his elbows, watching the omega through lidded eyes, face flushed red and hot with embarrassment, shame, and something far, far more intimate.

He ignored the snickers around him. He heard the whispers and the laughs. He could feel their eyes. He didn’t care about a single one of them. His heart was pounding, his blood was singing, and there was a heat coiling through him.

Despite the blow to his pride, and the embarrassment hot in his throat, he couldn’t bring himself to feel any sort of anger. He was intrigued, interested, and for the first time in his life that he could remember, he felt the thrill of the chase.