"He said he'd be right back," buzz cut mutters, crossing his arms.
A roar erupts from the far side of the camp. Deep andcollective, the sound of hundreds of alpha voices rising at once. The PA system crackles to life, a sharp whine of feedback cutting through the noise, and then a man's voice booms across the meadow, smooth and polished and dripping with showmanship.
Every head turns. The guards, Perrin, even me. The sound pulls our focus like a gunshot.
"Gentlemen, welcome to this evening's selections. We'll be getting started shortly, so please make your way to the viewing platform."
Through the gaps between the tents, I can see movement on the auction side of the camp. Alphas shifting toward the stage, jostling, a restless tide of bodies pressing forward.
“Hey, man.” A firm hand lands on my shoulder and I spin, ready to knock the fucker out. "Easy, Raff. It's me." An alpha with dark brown hair and familiar eyes laughs as he holds up his hands as if to surrender.
Anton?
“Holy shit.” My mouth falls open into a wide smile.
Anton grins, happy that I recognize him.
“I can’t believe it.” I clasp his hand and pull him into a one-armed hug, clapping his back once.
He looks different. Older, obviously.
I mean, the last time I saw him we were seventeen, maybe eighteen, running around the yard in whatever junker we were supposed to be stripping, grease under our nails and my mother yelling at us from the office window. He's taller now. Broader. His dark hair is trimmed short and clean, and he carries himself like a man who's been in charge of things for a while. But his grin is the same. Easy and crooked, pulling harder on the left side than the right.
"How the fuck are you?" I pat his back one more time. "It's been a long time, brother."
"Too long." He squeezes my shoulder before letting go, his eyes warm. "Didn't expect to see you out here."
"That makes two of us."
Behind him, the first guard is standing with his arms folded and his mouth set in a hard line. He looks like a man who went to fetch backup and was given a babysitter instead.
And it might work in my favor.
Following my gaze, Anton glances back at the guard. “He in there, Connor?” Anton jerks his head toward the only supply tent near us, and the fucker nods.
“Yup.” Connor jabs a finger toward the flap, his face tight with indignation, like a kid pointing at the classmate who started it.
"Okay." Anton nods once before turning back to me. "So, it sounds like your boy is causing some excitement." His tone is casual, but his eyes narrow slightly as they cut to Perrin, then back to me. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”
“It’s nothing,” I start, but I’m saved from having to say anything else when Cliff finally steps out into the warm evening air and every pair of eyes lands on him.
It’s about fucking time.
But Cliff looks a little…different.
His black hair is a mess, standing up in about a dozen different directions, and there's a faint impression of teeth on his neck that he's not even trying to hide. My gaze drops lower, taking in his stretched-out collar and the flush riding high on his cheekbones.
My pack alpha looks freshly fucked, and my dick responds immediately.
That territorial satisfaction rolls off him, and god help me, I want to taste it. If we weren't standing in the middle of the fucking market surrounded by suspicious guards, I'd probably be dragging him behind the nearest tent myself.
But we are, and he left me out here dealing with Anton while he was getting his dick wet. The thought pisses me off almost as much as it turns me on.
"Hey, Cliff," I try like hell to sound casual, but there's a bite in my tone. "We were about to send in a search party."
“Yeah.” He steps up next to me. Shoulder to shoulder.
I can smell sex on him, and something vaguely sweet underneath it. It's faint, making it hard to pinpoint.
