Chapter Five

Alister didn't do anything without dazzling flare. Not even going batshit crazy. That hadn't been his intention, but Sloane had sold him to some deviant piece of shit. Alister had every right to flip his lid. He just didn't have the right to take it out on his mate.

"I'm okay." He withdrew from Wyatt's embrace and inhaled a deep, cleansing breath. He shook off his distress and chased away the fear that wanted to send him spiraling once more. "I plead temporary insanity."

All three men eyed Alister as if he'd go haywire again at any second.

"Stop staring at me like I'm an exotic attraction at a zoo," Alister sassed. "Like none of you hasn't had a meltdown before."

"Don't you dare wind back up again." Wyatt flashed a devastatingly handsome smile. "That spanking is still on the table."

"That's not an image I want in my head." Paris made a gagging noise.

"Stop throwing shade, bitch." Though the image was now stuck in Alister's head. He had been shocked when Wyatt popped him on the tush—not because he'd been insulted but because it had turned him on.

In the past forty years no one had ever done that to Alister, and now he wanted to act like a brat just so Wyatt would do it again. Naked, of course.

"I think I need an ice cream to help me scrub that from my mind," Paris said. "I'm hijacking you and Wyatt to come with us." He headed for the door. "The day is hot enough to warrant a cold treat."

"You're determined to wreck my figure," Alister complained as he followed his bestie. "Wyatt's going to kick me out of bed if I gain twenty pounds."

"Not in his lifetime," Wyatt replied as he and Cannon trailed behind them. "I'll just have to give you a vigorous workout, butterfly."

"Oh, that's so cute!" Paris chuckled. "That fits Alister perfectly. He's beautiful and flighty."

The first time his mate had called him the endearment was when they were in his apartment and Alister was having a hard time coping with Negan's brutal attack. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

"First we have to stop by the bakery to get my car," Alister reminded Wyatt when they were outside. "I also want to check on Kayla. After what happened, she probably never wants to see us again, but I want to make sure she's okay."

Alister wouldn't blame her one bit if she told him he was no longer welcome in Sweet Spot. It would suck, though. Their baked goods were simply amazing and worth gaining a pound or ten.

"Even though Paris gave a detailed account of what happened at the bakery, Sheriff Harper still wants to talk to Alister," Cannon said to Wyatt.

"Not until I've had my ice cream." Alister headed to Wyatt's blue Charger. "My mental health needs pampering first."

Maybe he would suffer brain freeze and forget all about earlier. Had it really been only a few hours since he'd fought Sloane? It'd been mid-morning when Alister picked up his car and driven happily to the bakery.

After he dropped into the passenger seat and Wyatt started his car, Alister rolled his window down. The inside of the car felt like he'd just plopped his butt into an oven.

"If I'd known we would be going into town, I would have started the car sooner to cool it off." Wyatt reversed from the driveway after Cannon backed out and drove away. "I'm sorry I was thickheaded."

Even with the windows down, the car was still hot. Alister turned on the AC and adjusted the setting so the cold air would blow from the vent and right at his face. "I don't follow."

"Paris had you figured out in five seconds flat." Wyatt scratched at his beard in a frustrated manner. "I get it. You two have known each other for a long while."

"Forty years."

"Right." Wyatt nodded, dropped his hand, blew out a breath, and turned a corner. "I still should have realized what was going on with you." He hit his palm gently on the steering wheel. "I'm a deputy. I deal with traumatized people. Instead, I throw you over my shoulder and slap your ass." Wyatt shook his head like he was disgusted with himself.

"You're blaming yourself for the way I acted?" That would be a first. Alister was the worst at handling stress, fear, anxiety, or any number of negative emotions and situations. No one understood how damaged he was and how acting like a complete fool gave him a small measure of control over whatever was wrong with him.

Except Paris. The guy knew Alister like the back of his hand.

There were also incidents where the person deserved Alister's wrath. But Wyatt hadn't deserved it. His mate had tried to be reasonable earlier. It was Alister who turned into a raving lunatic.

"I'm blaming myself for not seeing past your behavior to the core of the problem," Wyatt said. "I let my frustration get to me."

Laughter erupted in Alister's belly as he leaned against the door, one arm curled around his midsection. With the heel of his hand, he wiped at the tears his amusement created.

"Care to tell me what's so funny?" The side of Wyatt's mouth curled upward as he looked at Alister.

The laughter finally died down, but the grin remained. The sudden burst of hilarity was the tension release Alister had needed. His fear and anxiety shot out of him like a geyser and blew away on the air rushing past his open window.

"I have no idea what's so funny." Alister jerked across the seat and planted a kiss on his mate's cheek. Wyatt's gray eyes glowed with pure delight as a boyish smile appeared.

Wyatt personified strength and masculinity, his body honed like a weapon. There was an air of deadliness to him, especially when his eyes filled with a lethal calm.

Yet, there was also an undeniable warmth and kindness that radiated from him. At times his gaze filled with uncertainty or a heavy weight that he masked with humor and charm.

Alister peeled his gaze away from Wyatt and stared out his window, noticing the scenery but not noticing it. His brows furrowed, and then he rubbed his hands down his thighs.

"Alister?" Not even Wyatt's dreamy voice broke through his shock. "You're breathing a little too fast, sweetheart. Tell me what's going on."

Wyatt pulled into the space next to Alister's Mercedes and shut off the car.

"You don't have to talk to Kayla right now if you're not ready to go inside the bakery." He gripped Alister's nape in a gentle hold. "Look at me, baby."

Blinking slowly, Alister turned his head and stared into his mate's worried eyes.

"Breathe with me." Wyatt sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Alister just watched him.

"It's not the bakery," he finally said.

"Then why do you look so terrified?" Wyatt brushed a hand over Alister's face. "Your cheeks are bright pink, butterfly. Tell me what's wrong."

"I have no idea why I'm reacting this way." Alister chuckled then frowned as he lowered his gaze. "It happens all the time. The crazy thing is, in a hundred and forty years, it has never happened to me." He lifted his eyes to meet Wyatt's. "It's terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. My heart is fluttering like crazy."

"I need you to connect the dots because I'm at a complete loss, hon." Wyatt's strong, warm hands cradled Alister's face. "Are you having another moment? Do you need a hug?"

A bark of laughter bubbled up and out of Alister's throat. "I'm almost positive I've fallen in love with you. I love you, Wyatt," he whispered. Then he talked super-fast, not once stopping to take a breath. "My insides are all twisted up and I'm even more of a mess now then I was before. Is love supposed to make you feel like you're white-knuckling a rollercoaster as it shoots upward then you're free-falling, your stomach dropping as you plunge at break-neck speed toward the earth? I'm rambling, aware of the fact, but can't shut up. Why in the hell can't I stop talking?"

Wyatt just sat there the entire time staring at him. Alister finally took a deep breath.

"I blame the heat," he continued, his words still coming out in a rush. "The humidity makes my hair frizzy, so it's only logical that it's making my brain frizzy, too."

Wyatt's lips crashed down on his, at the same time yanking Alister over the console and dropping him onto his lap. He wiggled around until he was straddling Wyatt, their lips never detaching. Anyone could walk by and see them tongue wrestling, could see Alister grinding his cock against Wyatt's chiseled abs—abs that were rock-hard and perfect for the kind of friction Alister's dick needed.

This was such inappropriate behavior in public. It was a hot summer evening, residents out enjoying the weather, and Alister was acting slutty as fuck with zero restraint. His hands had a mind of their own, tugging hard on Wyatt's hair, squeezing his mouthwatering pecs, sliding between them to knead the steel rod trapped behind silk shorts.

With a firm grip on Alister's hips, Wyatt purred into his mouth. His mate thrust upward, pulling Alister down to meet his powerful lunge. Their lips and teeth teased each other, facial hair scraping sensitive skin.

Alister was breathing roughly as he rose a little higher and rotated his hips until the head of Wyatt's cock stabbed in the crease of his ass.

Wyatt tore his lips away and grabbed Alister's forearms, pinning them in place. He was breathing just as heavily, his hair a disheveled mess, his kiss-swollen lips moist from Alister's saliva.

Wyatt's eyes burned with an insatiable hunger that threatened to consume Alister in the most delicious way possible.

Then Wyatt closed his eyes.

"I need you to get back in your seat," Wyatt growled through gritted teeth. He looked as if his control was hanging on by a thread. The tips of his canines were visible under his top lip. Wyatt glided his tongue over them then expelled a grunt. "If you don't move right now, I'm going to yank the back of your shorts down and bury my dick in your sweet ass. I would prefer not to since we're in public, but the part of me that demands I keep things respectable is seconds away from being shut down."

"You have to let my arms go if you want me to move." Alister wished like hell there was a stray breeze. His entire body was covered in sweat, his hair matted to his scalp.

After another grunt, Wyatt removed his hands. Moving across the console wasn't as easy as when he'd been yanked over it. His knee whacked the storage compartment between the seats, and his right butt cheek honked the horn. Then his ankle became stuck on the gearshift.

Wyatt helped Alister until he was clear of the obstacles. Now Alister was on his knees in the passenger seat and facing away from the windshield. He twisted around and finally plopped down.

"Please turn on the car before I drown." Alister rested his forehead just above the vent and closed his eyes as sweat trickled down his scalp and back. He released a happy groan when cold air blasted him in the face.

"Give me your keys so I can start your car." Wyatt closed the windows of his Charger, but it would take some time to cool off the interior.

Alister didn't care. He pressed one cheek against the slats, and then the other, his palms resting on either side of the vent. Frigid air never felt so good. If he could, he would drape his entire body over it.

"Keys?"

"They're in the cupholder." Alister pressed the top of his sweaty head against the vent, shivering as the cold air spread over his scalp and down the back of his neck. "I was so excited about the bakery and hanging with Paris that I forgot to grab them."

Thank god his cock was no longer hard and throbbing. Alister couldn't believe he'd been ready to ride Wyatt's dick while they were parked on Main Street. In broad daylight no less.

He lifted his head when he heard Wyatt get out and watched his mate walk around the hood of the car. There wasn't a tent in the front of his shorts like Alister feared there would be. His gaze switched focus, and he wondered if Wyatt knew just how scrumptious his firm, muscled tush looked swathed in the silky fabric.

Just as Wyatt opened the driver's door of the Mercedes, two elderly women strolled by, their arms entwined, chatting and smiling like the dearest of friends.

If they'd walked by five minutes earlier, they might have gone into cardiac arrest at seeing Alister trying to drive Wyatt's cock into his ass—though they'd both still had their shorts on.

When Alister looked to his right, his mate was staring at the women as if the same thought was going through his head. Wyatt glanced at him, and Alister mouthed, "You started it."

His mate smiled provocatively and winked. The naughty flirt was purposely teasing Alister, knowing full well the effect he had on him.

Now images of Wyatt spanking him crowded his mind. He could practically feel the tingles igniting over his backside as he pretended to be outraged.

Alister would be hard again if he didn't focus on something else. The bakery. The open sign still hung in the door, though he didn't see anyone inside. Kayla's terrified face popped into his head, and Alister's guilt overrode his lust.

Feeling the need to check on her and try to make things right, Alister got out of the car and stepped onto the sidewalk. Past the window he saw her leaning toward the counter, a pen in her hand as she wrote. A small display next to her prevented him from seeing what she was writing on.

"Only if you're ready," Wyatt said from behind him, resting his hands on Alister's hips. "No shame in walking away, butterfly."

"I don't know if seeing me will upset her." Kayla had been through a terrifying ordeal, and Alister worried about causing her more distress.

"I've known her for a while," Wyatt said. "She's a sweet girl with a kind heart."

Alister took a step forward then stopped when the memory of Sloane emerging from the side of the fridge gripped him. In that moment, there hadn't been a doubt in Alister's mind that Sloane had won. That the wolf shifter would finally have his auction.

It wasn't until Sloane fired his gun at Paris, but missed because it was only a warning shot, that Alister snapped out of his crippling fear and tried to end the sick bastard to keep Paris safe.

Alister couldn't bring himself to enter the bakery. Not because of Sloane, but because he didn't want to relive the crushing sorrow and anguish he'd felt when he thought Paris had been shot and killed.

"I-I can't." Alister spun and raced to his car, trying but continually failing to grab the handle so he could open the stupid door. Firm hands gripped Alister's upper arms and spun him around, and then he was crushed against a warm, solid chest.

Closing his eyes, Alister sank into Wyatt's embrace, the feeling of safety surrounding him as he soaked his mate's strength into his trembling body.

"Tell me what you need from me, butterfly," Wyatt murmured.

"I need ice cream and laughter." Alister rested his palms against his mate's chest and felt how hard his nipples were. Lifting his head, he gazed into Wyatt's gray eyes. "Then I want you to park your car in your garage so I can climb onto your lap and impale my fabulous ass on your cock."

Wyatt's chest rumbled with purr. "Let's go get some fucking ice cream."