Moving Forward

Spite (30)

It was late in the evening when news came. Max curled into Kyle's side, watching Duke and Manny play the knife game, narrowly missing chopping their fingers off. Off the side, Bates looked as if he was waiting for it. Lola seemed to have vanished, but in the other corner of the room, Parish was giving Whitey cornrows.

A wide yawn accompanied by a long stretch left Max draped further over Kyle's lap, nails tracing the seams of the legs of his jeans.

"That does not look comfortable," Lola appeared next to them.

Dime snorted, kicking a leg up onto the table. "Man's boneless."

A shout of pain had everyone at attention, but on seeing Duke holding up a bleeding hand, almost all of them sat back and ignored him.

"Is no one gonna get him a bandaid?" Kyle asked.

Manny smirked, flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder. "Big baby can handle it himself."

The comment resulted in Duke launching a Manny and a wrestling match was underway. Amusement coloured Kyle's expression as he watched, but Max was more interested in watching his mate's face and bending into a more awkwardly comfortable position.

The door opened with a small click, Andy's entrance enough to have everyone in the room stop what they were doing, Duke and Manny pausing in a strange pose on the floor. Andy, to her credit, barely hesitated before stepping further inside.

"We found Lara."

Reclining as if on holiday, Lara was being held in a cell made for werewolves. The padding was thin and not the cleanest-looking, but it didn't matter. Lara was the important thing here. Important enough that both Alphas and Blake were overseeing the whole interaction.

"Who are you loyal to?" Kyle demanded, leading the interrogation.

Lara blinked, rolled her eyes. "Well clearly not you."

"Is it Gillespie?"

"Sure is." Lara nodded.

"How do you know Gillespie?"

"You wanna know?" Lara turned her lip up.

"Why else would I ask?" Kyle said.

She stood, coming close to the bars. "I'm Gill's illegitimate half-sister." She grinned.

"You don't smell like wolf." Max said.

Shaking her head, she focused those big eyes on him. "Neither would Gill. Our dad might've been Alpha before the Rivers were, but both his kids are duds. The only reason you smell wolf on Gill is because of who he spends all his time with."

"The brainwashed mutts." Kyle said, a hint of gravel in his tone.

Lara's eyes went wide. "Do you wanna know how we did that?"

"Will you tell us?"

"I'm not an idiot. No, we've gotta keep some secrets." Lara chuckled, sitting back down on her cot.

Max growled, taking a step before being caught by Kyle. The hand to his chest was warm - firm.

With another, softer growl, Max marched out. He couldn't look at her anymore. Behind him, Kyle trailed on his heels. Neither man said a word even on reaching Kyle's room and it was just a matter of minutes before pacing wasn't enough to pacify Max's thoughts, forcing the man to pick his clothes up from the floor and rearrange the dresser.

The bed creaked as Kyle stood, the padding of his feet barely audible, and with a sigh he brought his arms around Max who stopped at the touch.

"Talk to me."

Max grunted, leant his head back on the shoulder of his mate. "I don't know." Kyle's touch was comforting, but not enough to push Max's thoughts into straight lines.

"You're not very good with your own feelings," Kyle rubbed circles over Max's chest, "but talking always helps."

Max pivoted, buried his face in Kyle's neck and then shifted again, settling his forehead on Kyle's chest. "Lara... the wolves... Gillespie... I don't know Kyle."

A glimpse of the dead brainwashed wolf came to the forefront of his mind.

"I killed that wolf." He hissed. "I was just angry and tired, and that's not a good reason!"

"Max-"

"That's not a good reason."

Gentle hands guided Max's face up to meet Kyle's eyes. When Max finally focused on them, Kyle began pressing kisses to his forehead, his eyelids, his chin. Then, with a firm hold on his shoulders, guided Max to the bed. Max trembled, unable to direct his anxious energy anywhere useful, but maybe this was better. He could let Kyle take care of him.

The black shirt he wore came off with a rasping sound as it came untucked from his trousers, the belt of which was already being pulled away. A kiss was pressed to hands, and then his belly, and then Kyle was taking Max's shoes off for him.

Max opened his mouth to say something. Thank you, maybe, but nothing came out other than a choked off whine.

"Max," Kyle was instantly by Max's side, arms wrapped around him.

It was all Max could do to just breathe. Sobs threatened to suffocate him and his eyes burned. He'd begun to trust Lara and she'd turned around and helped the people trying to hurt his mate take him. He killed a wolf for no reason. Where was his gun? Panic rose in his throat, barely kept at bay by the comforting fingers running through his hair.

If Gillespie was willing to go this far just to torment Kyle, what else would he do? What would he do to Kyle?

Max couldn't stand the thought, wanted to spit it out like hair caught on his tongue. But it wouldn't come loose. It tangled around his mind, rooted in places that should've been worrying about other things. No, it was there now.

Even as Max's breathing finally calmed and Kyle shifted them to lie down, his mind still ran rampant.

If Kyle was going to be their target, Max would not let him out of his sight. He would keep Kyle safe, would do anything to make sure Gillespie never got what he wanted. Gillespie could brainwash as many wolves as he wishes, could send Lara to do his dirty work, could even kidnap him again, but Max would not let Gillespie hurt Kyle.

A battle of wills? Perhaps. But Max was running on pure spite and the need to keep his mate safe. Nothing would get in his way.