Chapter Two
Ryder
Thirty minutes later and Ryder still hadn't gotten over the shock of seeing the boy in his bar. He'd imagined the scene so many times that when he finally did walk into the bar his motorcycle club ran, Ryder thought perhaps he was imagining it. Except, Chuey was never afraid in his fantasies, and the man Ryder had walked into looked like the epitome of a wild animal trapped in a corner. The Chuey of Ryder's fantasies never destroyed a few hundred dollars' worth of booze as well as a wall of shelves before literally fleeing the scene either.
After he'd ran out, Ryder had shut the place down, asking only those involved to hang back. After attempting to talk to Garth and Stannis, Ryder set them up with plates of food until he could arrange a ride home for them. Even as shifters, those two had no business being behind the wheel. Ryder made a note to talk with the evening bartender about over-serving. The last thing any of them needed was to be on the police's radar, which they would be if they got a reputation for serving people past their limit.
"Who is this?" Ryder asked Garth, indicating the plain-looking human male.
Garth took a bite of the burger that Ryder had had the cook make him to help sober him up. "That guy? He told Chuey he liked his tight ass. And bought him the booze."
Even with a mouthful of food, Ryder could understand the shifter. He growled and clenched his jaw tightly. "Get out of here," he told the man. "I don't want to see you back," Ryder barked.
"What? That's fucking unfair; I thought he was of age," the man replied, and Ryder didn't even have to tell his pack to haul the guy out, they likely recognized his expression and knew to either get the guy out now, or to peel him off the floor later.
"You okay, boss?" Thorne Maxter, Ryder's second in command, asked when he came back in from throwing the human out.
Ryder was not okay. Now, he couldn't stop imagining that nondescript, average, unworthy man's hands all over his…
He isn't yours, Ryder. He can't be yours, you need to knock the fuck off with that.
Acting on his instincts when it came to the boy might just start a pack war, which was the last thing either the bear pack or Ryder's hybrid pack needed at that moment. The bears were finally getting on their feet after months of upheaval and drama, and Ryder's pack, well, they were operating on a one-day-at-a-time schedule for a reason.
Nestled away in the woods of the Pacific Northwest in the tiny town of Pineville, Ryder and his hybrids had carved out a nice life just south of Noel. They were the only hybrids in the state, and Ryder thought perhaps they were even the only hybrids on that coast. That was good, since it meant less competition. They weren't the only motorcycle club, however, not even the only one in their county, and the other president, Marcos, had made it no secret that he didn't enjoy Ryder and his pack operating so close to them.
They weren't in a state of war, more like in a state of annoyance. Occasionally, one of Ryder's men would come back a little banged up. It was always just one, since it likely took four of Marcos's men to best one of Ryder's hybrids, but the last time, Lyle had been in the hospital for a few days with serious brain swelling. It was only a matter of time before someone got killed, and when that happened, there would be a war.
"I'm fine, Thorne. Only wondering why I had to come back to this shitstorm after all day on the road." Riding his bike was never a chore. The way he felt on his bike was better than the high most addicts chased daily, but he'd left the motel at dawn that morning and was only just rolling in.
"I've got the list," the bartender said. "At least the kid is short, he didn't hit our top shelf liquors. He got our mid-shelf vodkas and half the whiskey we had out. He also shattered the glass and cracked the shelves in a couple of places."
It had been an impressive throw. The force of impact had been testament to the emotions the boy had been feeling at the time. "Don't call him that," Ryder replied.
"Call him what? The kid? Didn't we just learn in a very public, embarrassing way that he isn't old enough to be in here?"
"He's nineteen," Ryder replied.
"But they found him in the forest. He's like a Mowgli; mentally, he's probably twelve at the most."
Ryder just scowled as Thorne thrust a broom in the bartender's hand.
"He's nineteen," Ryder repeated, sounding somewhat belligerent at that point. It was extremely important to him in that moment, though, to make sure everyone knew that while Chuey might not be twenty-one, he was over eighteen.
"Honestly, boss, you don't have to tell me because I don't care. Adding up the figures here, your boy put us out of about one hundred and fifty dollars of booze and maybe seventy-five dollars' worth of repairs," Thorne said, looking at the list the bartender had left behind. "That is only if we do it ourselves. We can't let this slide, though. I know the ki—I know the shifter didn't mean it, but we have an image. And that image isn't, 'come to our house and trash it.'"
Ryder was only half-listening as Hugh bent over to whisper something in Logan's ear. "Julian said he isn't back yet."
Ryder looked at the clock. It was coming past midnight. The boy had run out of there on his own. He was a shifter, so that gave him a little more wiggle room when it came to being young and alone at night, but Ryder didn't like the idea of Chuey running around out there in the emotional state he was in as well as the physical state, since they'd all seen him chug a Long Island. "You don't know where he is?" Ryder asked sharply from across the room.
Hugh scowled at him, annoyed that Ryder was so clearly eavesdropping. Logan however, looked utterly bereft. "I messed it up," Logan muttered.
Ryder didn't disagree. Logan couldn't have done more to hurt Chuey's ego than if he'd put him in onesie pajamas and sent him to bed with his bottle. As they'd kicked all the customers out, the only thing any of them could talk about was how mortified they would be if they were in that kid's shoes.
"You did what you thought was best at the time," Hugh said consolingly with all the dedication of a mated alpha.
"You unmanned him!" Garth shouted, spitting flecks of food as he did.
"And you're the one who encouraged him to go out, I should kick your ass," Hugh replied.
"At least I don't strut around pretending I'm his dad," Garth replied. "You aren't his father."
Ryder hated admitting it even to himself silently that Garth had a point.
"That's bullshit," Logan replied, seemingly reinvigorated now that it was Garth that he was arguing with. "I brought him here. He is my responsibility. Besides, going out without permission doesn't make you a man, neither does drinking illegally or getting picked up in a bar by some sleaze two times your age!"
Ryder was with him until that last bit. He cleared his throat and put on a front like he was more annoyed than worried. "As fun as it is to have three bears and a ginger argue in my bar, it would be great if you would all leave."
Garth shoved the last of his burger and fries in his mouth. There was so much food that Ryder could see it clearly and wholly when Garth muttered thanks as he walked by.
"Can we take the long way back, just in case?" Logan asked Hugh as they stepped out.
Ryder strained to hear is answer.
"Julian sent Angus and Heath after him. He's going to see if Marcy is awake to watch Duncan and then he'll meet us at the camp," Hugh said, the rest of his words muffled by the noise of them getting into their jeep, starting the car and driving off.
"You'll be stepping out, then?" Thorne asked casually in the silence that followed. Nights like this one, when so many of Ryder's pack were stretched out doing their specific duties, Ryder generally liked to stay close to home. The bar wasn't their only asset, but all of it could be taken away from them.
"Just for a bit, for some air. Want to make sure the boy didn't get himself hurt on the property. Insurance would go through the roof."
"That's right, you go get some air and protect our premiums," Thorne replied with a knowing smile.
Ryder made sure to body check him on his way out the front door.
***
He kept his high beams on as he rode over the deserted highway. These old forest roads were the best for night driving, plenty of curves and hills to keep it interesting without the danger of too many other drivers. Ryder trusted exactly one person when he was behind the handlebars of his bike and that person was himself. After searching both ways on the highway, Ryder turned around and drove toward the old trailhead. In the early days, that spot marked the most direct path to the bear pack's community. Ryder had always pretended not to know where they lived, but he'd done that for their benefit, not because it was the truth. Ryder prided himself on keeping up to date on who was doing what in his territory.
Now though, the trailhead was marked with a sign that read Leonard Renfro Educational Wildlife Reserve and Campground. They were right in the middle of camping season, and the place was booked full for months. Ryder approved of the camp. He didn't know a lot about the camp's founder, Jack, other than that he was mated to one of the bear shifters. He had a love of nature too, that was obvious.
Ryder cut his engine so that the sound wouldn't disturb too many this late at night. He went over in his head how to casually explain his presence while also casually bringing up the question of whether Chuey had made it home or not.
He wasn't ashamed of how he felt about the boy, Ryder had always had a type and it was well known. His own men teased him about his daddy hero complex. It wasn't that Ryder liked young men, that wasn't what it was about. It was more the energy of a man that attracted Ryder. And it was just a coincidence that so many of the men Ryder had met also needed saving. Sometimes, a person made the wrong choices. Ryder knew better than most how many mistakes a single person could make. He hadn't always been big and beefy as he was now. His face hadn't always been covered with a beard that made people back away from him. He'd been weak, he'd been preyed upon, and he would not stand by while the same thing happened to others.
Sometimes, those people were thankful. Sometimes, even romantically thankful. And, if Ryder happened to enjoy being called daddy or addressing his romantically thankful man as his boy in the process, that was just all the better.
Ryder stalked down the dark path, attempting to remember the route back to the bear's community from memory. He tiptoed past several collections of snoring campers. The way the camp was set up, people slept in individual hammocks, lifted off the ground and arranged so that several people could sleep in the same space, or campsite. From what Ryder had heard, the hammocks were a big draw as well as the wildlife lessons the camp provided daily at no extra charge.
He made it to the end of the camp, stepping over the invisible line that divided the wildlife reserve from the bears' territory. The moment he crossed over, he turned toward a presence. Whoever was lurking didn't want Ryder to see them. He let his mind process all the sensations. That was the best way for Ryder to describe being a hybrid shifter. Most moments of a day, he could act completely normal as he easily blocked stimulus that would have been overwhelming. But, when he wanted to, he could open the gates, let it all pour in as he sifted through the stimulus to pinpoint only the most important things, like how the thing that was lurking was a bear shifter and that it was about ten degrees to the right.
"I'm here in peace," Ryder whispered.
"I'm wondering why you're here at all," Angus replied.
Ryder took another whiff and noticed that Heath was back there as well.
"Are you helping us search?" Heath asked him.
Ryder nodded. "Does that mean he still isn't back?"
Heath frowned while Angus pulled out his sat phone. "They're supposed to send the code out if he pops up. I hope, for Hugh and Julian's sake, that he does. Logan was beside himself, last I saw."
"I assume you all searched this area?" Ryder asked. He mentally punched himself for not acting more relaxed about this situation but frankly, knowing Chuey was still out there, mad, intoxicated, and with a bruised confidence, didn't sit well with him at all.
"We did. We were just coming back around to the camp to tell them that too."
"I already drove up and down the highway. He isn't hitchhiking, and he isn't close to the road or I would have smelled him."
"You know, I never know what you can or can't do. You can't turn into a wolf, but you do borrow some of their features. Is it garlic that you can't eat?"
Ryder rolled his eyes. "You're thinking of vampires. Just remember, hybrids are just like you, only less hairballs." He relaxed, allowing his wolf features to come to the forefront. Unlike a wolf shifter that simply turned into a large wolf when it shifted, hybrid wolf shifters only borrowed a few of the wolf's features. In this form, his eyes were solid black, and his skin was thicker and dark in color. His fingernails sharpened into claws, his teeth lengthened, and his ears elongated so that he could capture even more sounds. But he was still upright and could still talk.
"You look freaky. Like a space werewolf," Angus told him.
Ryder snarled, but in a friendly way. "I'll let you know if I find anything," he said before spinning from them and running back the way he had come. He passed his bike, knowing it would be safe at the camp for at least the next couple of hours. He couldn't search the woods properly unless he was on foot and he needed to find his boy.
After a few miles of running, Ryder finally caught Chuey's scent. He grew immediately hard, but that was to be expected. At least in his human form, he could deny his attraction to the young man. In this form, the purest version of himself, there was no denying the desire he held.
Ryder shook off his arousal. He didn't even know if Chuey was safe or not. He'd at least stayed around the bar, or so it seemed he had. His scent trail took Ryder past where the bar was and up a winding gravel road. Ryder knew where he was going before he got there, he'd be able to come to this place in his sleep, blindfolded. He'd lived in the tiny hunting cabin from the moment he'd left his family and tried making his own way.
He didn't know why Chuey's scent would have led him to his own house, but he followed it through the front door, through his small, dark living room and down the hallway to the only bedroom in the cabin, Ryder's room. He opened the door and instantly was hard again as he took in the sight of Chuey on his bed, curled up on top of the blanket as he slept.
Ryder's immediate instinct was to cover the boy's body up with his own, to press against him and rub him gently until he woke up. Then he would ask if he was okay, would tend to all the parts of Chuey that hurt him...
He needed to get this boy out of his room, but more importantly, off his bed.
"Hey, boy," Ryder barked, but Chuey didn't stir. He remained curled up like a cat napping in front of a fire. Ryder thought that brushing his palm down the man's spine would wake him up. It would also make him stretch his lean muscles, flashing the long lines and ridges that Ryder could spend hours licking. He pushed the thoughts out of his head.
"Padre?" Chuey mumbled with that lilting accent of his. It didn't sound foreign as much as it sounded like the speaker wasn't accustomed to speaking. Which would make sense, if half of what Ryder had heard about Chuey's upbringing was true. The kid was damned tough and didn't need Ryder making his life more complicated.
"No, I'm not your father and this isn't your bedroom," Ryder replied, hating the gruff in his tone.
Chuey leapt from the bed, spinning in an impressive maneuver and landing on the other side of the bed in a crouch where only the top of his shiny black head and wide black eyes were visible.
"Hold on, calm down," Ryder said with his hands raised in front of his body. "You don't need to get all worked up, boy."
Chuey huffed out a breath but didn't move.
Ryder took the remaining steps that would bring him to his bed. He sat down on the very edge of the mattress. "Your whole pack is out looking for you," Ryder said. "I'm glad I found ya, but what are you doing here?"
"I… I needed safety," Chuey replied.
Ryder's heart nearly melted just then. Chuey had been afraid, and for some fucked up, wonderful reason, he'd associated Ryder's home with safety. How had the boy known that Ryder wouldn't have let anyone hurt him? He'd tried so hard to keep his emotions under so many layers no one would ever spot them. But Chuey had still known that Ryder would keep him safe. He liked that more than he wanted to admit.
Ryder smoothed down his short beard. At least, it was normally short. At that moment, it was probably an inch longer than he liked it. But, with the bear pack and all the troubles that came from their alliance on one side and Marco's club on the other, Ryder didn't have time for a haircut.
"You're safe, boy, now will you come out from there?" Ryder asked.
Chuey's eyebrows dipped down between his eyes in a frown. "I'm not child, I'm man," he said as obstinately as a person could while cowering behind a bed.
"What? You don't like me calling you boy?" Ryder asked. "That's too damn bad. It isn't a put-down, son, just a term." Ryder didn't need any reminders about how much of a man Chuey was. "Besides, you are hiding over there, not helping your case."
Chuey began to rise and Ryder bit down on his cheeks to keep from smirking. "I'm sorry," he said.
"You don't need to apologize," Ryder replied. "You're a part of Roscoe's pack which means you are a friend of me and my club." That was a steaming pile of horse shit.
"Still friends?" Chuey asked, reaching a hand behind his head and scratching. His worry was apparent in his wide eyes.
"Of course," Ryder said, patting the spot on the bed next to him. He was playing with fire and felt doused with gasoline. "You busted up my bar though. You'll have to compensate the club for damages." Or at least make it look like he was so that Ryder's group of guys didn't get on him. He could handle any complaint they had on any day, but why dig his hole deeper? Besides, this idea was just forming in his mind and so far, he liked it.
"Compensate?" Chuey repeated the word back to him slowly.
"Pay back."
"Make good?" Chuey offered.
"Yes, if that's the term you want to use."
Chuey sat on the other side of the mattress, creating a gap between them that Ryder wanted to fill. "I don't have money," he said, his head hanging low between his raised shoulders.
"You'll have to work it off, then," Ryder said, and then, because he didn't want to feel like he was forcing the boy into anything, "We'll talk to your pack first. If they want to work out some other deal, we can. But you cost me around five hundred bucks tonight."
Chuey just sat there. He didn't start crying or anything which was good for Ryder since one tear would have had him forgiving Chuey for anything. When he did look up from his hands into Ryder's face, his eyes shone but they were dry. "I will fix it," he said resolutely. "I will make good."
"You don't want your pack's help?" Were they not treating him well? Why wouldn't he want them to help him out? Ryder's tongue pressed hard against the inside of his front teeth. Suddenly, he was going over every interaction he'd had with the bear pack, searching for moments he might have missed that indicated they were treating Chuey poorly.
"No," Chuey said, getting to his feet and facing Ryder. "My pack, they have problems. I will solve this on my own."
That made sense to Ryder and allowed him to relax his hands from the fists they'd formed into when he thought Chuey was being mistreated. Chuey walked out of his bedroom and down the hall. "Hold up, son, where are you going now?"
"To clean, to fix, make good," Chuey replied, his movements jerky and eager, like a baby deer.
Ryder reached over Chuey's head, slamming the front door shut after Chuey had opened it. The shifter looked up at him with no fear, just curiosity. The trust in his expression nearly undid Ryder. He locked the door and then stumbled away from the boy. "You show up at the bar now and Zeke will put a bullet between your eyes." Just saying the words made Ryder's hands clammy.
"Zeke?"
"Part of the club, he lives in the back room at the bar and watches the place at night."
Chuey nodded. "You call Zeke, tell him I'm coming to fix it."
"No, I don't call Zeke, boy. It is nearly dawn. You need to go back to your home before your pack goes crazy. Your father... your padre, he's worried sick."
"I'm not going back. Not until I fix my problem. I'm a man," Chuey replied, stepping away from Ryder slowly. The way he kept looking to either side of him made Ryder sure that he was about to run. He was a flighty one.
Ryder was filled with the urge to dominate, to make his boy submit and stay. But Chuey wasn't his boy, and pushing this issue would only make Chuey run faster. And what if he didn't feel like Ryder's house was a safe place the next time he got a rebellious hair up his butt? Ryder ignored his instincts and retreated when he wanted to advance.
He stepped back to his La-Z-Boy and sat down like he wasn't ready to leap and catch Chuey should he still decide to run. "This man business, is someone telling you that you aren't?" Ryder asked, reaching for his remote. He got exactly three channels out here and one of them was the church channel. Nothing against those folks, but as a gay biker with loose morals, they weren't exactly his biggest fans. He settled on a re-run of an old sitcom.
Chuey puffed his chest out. He wasn't a skin-and-bones type of guy. He had muscles, long lean ones that popped out like cords under his skin. He was short for a shifter, coming up to around Ryder's chest, maybe his shoulders if he slouched. "My padre, he doesn't see me as I am," Chuey replied. "He doesn't see that I have been learning. I can talk very well now."
"He's worried about ya, that's how parents are," Ryder replied as if he knew for one moment how parents acted. He hadn't known his own for long enough to make many observations. He got up, noticing the way Chuey tensed up at first, only to relax as Ryder walked by him and into the kitchen. He reached for a beer for himself and then grabbed a bottled water for Chuey. He threw it back to the shifter, ignoring the scowl when Chuey noticed that their beverages didn't match. "You think you want a beer, boy?" Ryder asked, his words intentionally gruff. Chuey was likely to start acting out just to get back at his padre and Ryder was having about none of that. He'd nip any of those ideas in the bud right now.
Chuey looked down his nose at Ryder, a difficult thing for a man a full foot shorter than him. "You're like him. Like my padre. You think since this is new to me that I am not smart. That I don't know. Just because I didn't know how to do things does not mean I cannot learn." Chuey had already spoken more to Ryder in this conversation than he had before in his life, and Ryder didn't want him to stop talking. He loved the melodic rise and fall of his tone.
"If you want your padre and everyone else to stop treating you like a kid, then maybe you should stop acting like one. That stunt you pulled today, throwing the glass. That was a damned tantrum. Act like a man and you'll be treated like one."
A feral snarl erupted out of Chuey's mouth as he jumped clear over the couch and onto Ryder's lap. Ryder caught him at the waist by instinct. His hips thrust up of their own accord as his beast told him that his mate was present. Oh, Lord, how he was present.
"You don't know anything," Chuey snapped, his face twisted in anger. But that anger was quickly cooling as it looked like Chuey became aware of where, exactly, he was.
So, his boy was flighty and hot-headed. Great.
"I know that you act out of emotion, and that type of behavior could land you in trouble you can't easily get out of. What if you'd pulled something like that in any other bar but mine? Do you think they would offer you the chance to work it off? Not with that sweet mouth and those fuck-me eyes; they'd work it off your body." Ryder's grip kept Chuey in place on his lap even when he'd tried to stand. "You've got to learn to control yourself," Ryder said as, in contrast to his words, his right hand slid to the small of his back and he let his fingers splay, covering as much of his boy as possible.
Chuey pushed, fighting against Ryder like a kitten trying to fight a bull. He wasn't weak; Ryder was just that strong, but Chuey would not be deterred. He kept on, pushing and pulling, all the while rubbing their bodies together at the groin.
At some point, Chuey's grunts of effort transformed into moans, and his movements, no longer frantic attempts to be free, turned sensual. Instead of pulling away, he bumped the front of their bodies together. Ryder felt Chuey's warmth rub up his cock and he hissed, pushing the boy away.
Chuey bolted for the door and it was Ryder's turn to show off how fast he could be. He made it to the front door as Chuey was wrenching it open. If Ryder knew that Chuey would go straight home, he might have let him leave. At least, if he did, his last memory would be of Ryder pushing him away. As much as that hurt, maybe it was for the best.
But, he didn't know where Chuey would head once he got through Ryder's door. Ryder lifted the boy up, shutting and locking the door with one hand as he dropped the hissing, snarling, bundle of anger back on his couch. Chuey bounced once before gathering his limbs close to his body and staring up at Ryder with a fire in his eyes.
"I've got to be clear on this. You are off limits to me, Chuey. I feel this, whatever the fuck this is between us. I feel it. But I can't act on it. Okay? Do you understand?"
"You don't want me."
"That's, fuck, you don't know how wrong that is. You're going through stuff, I get it. What you need to understand is getting messed up with me will just make all that harder for you." Ryder didn't dare move away from the door. He longed for the rough burn of his beer, but his bottle was currently on its side on his carpet. How had this all started to go so wrong? The better question was how Ryder had thought they had any chance of being in an enclosed area alone without ending up on top of each other. His feelings for Chuey, they weren't just a result of the boy ticking all of Ryder's boxes, there was something deeper there, something that they would both have to ignore.
He inhaled, because he enjoyed torturing himself, and took in a deep lungful of Chuey. He smelled like pie in the oven, like a roast that had spent all day cooking in spices. Ryder couldn't pinpoint which exact flavor Chuey was, only that he smelled like something delicious that Ryder wanted to put in his mouth.
He shoved an angry hand through his thick hair, getting stuck in the mass of curls. He usually kept that a bit shorter as well. "Let's change the subject. How about we talk about what you were doing tonight?"
"I snuck out with Garth and Stannis."
"Did your packmates know you were leaving without your padre's permission?"
Chuey nodded solemnly. "Garth knew. He said it was easier to ask for forgiveness."
"Than permission... I've heard the saying." Ryder already disliked Garth, now he had more of a reason.
"But we were just hanging out! I was dancing until I got too tired. And then a man started talking to me."
"Is this the guy who liked your ass?" Ryder could do nothing to dampen the growl in his voice. "He's 86'd," Ryder said, and then he clarified for Chuey, "He is no longer welcome back."
"Why?" Chuey asked, sounding so much like an insolent teenager that Ryder nearly sent him to his room without dinner.
"You know why," Ryder bit back.
"I liked how he looked at me," Chuey confessed. "Like I was normal."
"Ah, boy, why do you have to say something like that?" Ryder strode forward until he could pull Chuey into a solid hug that held no requests or promises for more. "Normal doesn't meant shit. There is no normal. We're all just trying to survive while hiding how fucked up we all are."
Chuey didn't resist the embrace at all. He leaned into it. When he spoke, his face tilted up at Ryder adorably. "Even you?"
Ryder risked one final squeeze before releasing Chuey. He turned from him to mask the fact that the small embrace had given him a boner. Which one of them was supposed to be the uncontrollable teen? "Even me." He pictured the human from earlier, his dirty pants and scuffed boots. He was one of many men and woman that would likely try to pick up a sweet man like Chuey. "I understand wanting to be trusted, Chuey. But are you ready for the types of things that man was asking for? Do you understand it fully?"
Chuey was scowling again. "I know what sex is. I know he wanted sex."
"Did you want it as well? With him?" Ryder clenched his hands so tightly his fingernails dug into his skin.
Chuey turned his head away at the worst moment, according to Ryder. He needed to see his face, to absorb the information he would find there.
"Look at me, boy," Ryder ordered.
Chuey's neck turned beautifully. The apples of his cheeks were tinged with pink. "I do want it. Want sex," he said slowly as if he was evaluating every word before it left his mouth. "Maybe not with him. But I think about it. A lot."
Ryder smiled ruefully. That wasn't so bad. What boy his age didn't think about sex a lot?
"Padre says my first time should be special though," Chuey said, and Ryder felt like his world had been knocked on its side. First time? Fuck, of course he would be a virgin. There wasn't much time for romance while a person attempted to live in the wilderness. Why hadn't he thought of that yet? Then, the truth hit Ryder. His brain had likely blocked that sort of information knowing that it would change everything. His animal wanted this boy like no other. Knowing that he was untouched. God dammit, it shouldn't matter, but it did. He took a staggered step in Chuey's direction as his pocket began to buzz.
Ryder stopped short, realizing he'd been moments from ripping both of their clothes off and claiming Chuey over the back of the couch he was hiding behind. He yanked the phone out of his pocket angrily and read the message.
Any luck? Logan's talking about burning the forest down and I think Jack just passed out.
Ryder rolled his eyes. Damned bears were so dramatic. He appreciated the distraction now though. It had given him the time to calm down.
"What is it?" Chuey asked suspiciously, his eyes narrowed on the phone in Ryder's hand.
"Nothing," Ryder lied easily. "Just Zeke letting me know all is clear. C'mon, boy, I need to go get my bike."
Chuey approached him cautiously. "Where did you leave it?"
"At the camp," Ryder replied, and Chuey stopped like his feet had suddenly turned into rocks.
"I'll wait here," he replied, but Ryder grabbed his wrist.
"No, you won't. I'm not leaving you here to snoop around on club business, now come on." Ryder would have to punch himself in the face later.