12. Jag’s Terrible Realization

12

JAG’S TERRIBLE REALIZATION

The Brothers knew his focus was shot.

Jag watched distractedly as Storm, Fury, and Hades taught Rex how to fight, guiding him through punches and evasive maneuvers.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Rex’s eagerness to show Niall the brand on his shoulder.

Rex, the feral alpha who’d been more interested in the food Jag provided, than in Jag himself. Rex had stalked Olson for a while, and he’d already given Olson his bonding mark.

So Jag knew: Rex wasn’t interested in mating with Niall. It was something else.

Something that Niall understood, from the way he’d fumbled with his own clothing—right over the spot he’d refused to let Jag see.

But he had willingly shown it to Rex.

Because Rex had shown him those numbers.

The only possible explanation... That sent a snarling fury through Jag, that he struggled to control.

“Hades,” Jag growled.

Hades glanced over, sharp eyes locking onto him. He was a little younger than Jag, all scarred up, and he’d been Jag’s best friend in prison. Jag had missed Hades a great deal when he’d been released early. “Spoiling for a fight?”

“Yeah. I need to hit something.”

“You could look for a punching bag.” But Hades was already moving in, backing Jag into one corner of the mats they’d laid out over the parking lot asphalt.

Jag threw punches, fast and hard. He needed to hurt something. But he wasn’t at home right now, where his punching bag was.

Hades went on the offensive and darted between blows to strike Jag in the chest.

Jag barely felt it; he punched Hades anyway, not caring about what damage he took as long as he could land a hit.

“Getting sloppy in your old age,” Hades said easily.

“I need to kill someone.”

“Well. You can’t afford to go back to jail this time.”

Jag gritted his teeth. No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave Niall unprotected.

Unless.

Hades read his mind. “Bond with him.”

Jag slipped up in his attack; Hades smirked and cuffed him lightly in the jaw. “I’m going to give him a choice.”

“The sooner you bond with him, the sooner you’ll have license to kill.”

And the sooner Niall would be his.

Jag salivated. “He’s not ready for it. I want it to be his choice.”

“Such a gentleman.” Hades smirked.

“We can’t all be you.”

“Have you fucked him yet?”

Jag’s attention slipped; he paid for it with a blow to his gut. “Fuck!” He lunged at Hades, only for his friend to dodge and laugh.

If this had been a real fight, if Niall’s safety were at stake, Hades wouldn’t even get the chance to laugh.

But it wasn’t a real fight, and talking like this helped. It helped to take the edge off Jag’s bloodlust; it helped distract him from what Niall had suffered, because those thoughts made him feel so fucking helpless.

“I’ve marked him on the outside,” Jag growled, his instincts purring. “Not on the inside. Not yet.”

Storm whistled, the brat. “Such a gentleman!”

“Yeah?” Jag shot back. “What’re you doing with your omega?”

“Protecting him,” Storm said far too innocently.

“From under his bed?” Jag asked.

“That still counts!”

Jag shook his head. “He doesn’t even know you’re there.”

Storm grinned. “He’s safe. And I smell him every night.”

Jag sighed, unsurprised.

With the exception of Rex, the Brothers had all been in jail, at least once. And their morals were... hazy, at best.

“I’m still looking for my omega,” Hades said. “I thought I smelled him around here, but he’s elusive.”

“Try harder,” Fury said dryly.

“Find an omega for yourself, F-word,” Hades retorted. “ Then come back and call the kettles black.”

Fury shrugged and went back to teaching Rex how to throw a punch.

“I’d say to hunt down the people who’ve hurt Niall, but you’re better off protecting than avenging,” Hades said, continuing the conversation with Jag.

“I know that.” Jag gritted his teeth, throwing more punches that Hades blocked.

They spent the rest of the session switching partners—until Jag wore himself out and the bloodlust didn’t rake through his bones as badly anymore.

“Great practice,” Jag said, studying Rex. “You good with this, Rex? Want us to come back for more?”

Rex nodded eagerly. “Good. Protect.”

Jag grinned. “That’s what we’re looking for.”

He helped to gather the mats, loading them into Hades’ truck. Then the five of them trooped back into the Wine Shack, only to have Olson thrust a stack of menus at them.

“Lunch is on the house. Your choice of dining in or to-go.”

Jag raised his eyebrows. “Do you owe us something?”

“You’re teaching Rex to protect himself.” Olson rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “I feel better now that Rex is getting some help.”

“Alright.” Jag took a menu and headed over to Niall.

“That jerk,” Hades said behind him. “Ditching us at the first chance to chase some omega tail.”

Jag flipped him off without looking back.

Niall had noticed the Brothers’ entrance the moment they walked in. At that point, he’d been saying something into his hands. When Jag finally reached his booth, Niall was already closing his laptop, awkwardly trying to stuff it into his tote.

“Here, let me help.” Jag took the laptop from him and tucked it carefully into the cotton bag. “Anything else?”

Niall reluctantly placed a small microphone in with the laptop. And Jag remembered—

“You write books. I’d wondered how, but that microphone explains a lot.”

Including the passage Niall had read aloud in his house this morning.

Niall froze, looking at everything but Jag. “Um.”

Was he self-conscious about that?

“You know that’s amazing, right? I couldn’t write a paragraph, much less a book.” Jag set Niall’s bag on the omega’s other side, squeezing in to sit next to him. Their thighs pressed together in a warm line.

“I guess,” Niall mumbled. His cheeks had turned pink.

Jag rolled his next words around in his mouth. “So... Flagpoles?”

Niall groaned and fumbled his hood over his head. “It’s... patriotic? Patriotic books?”

“Are you asking me?” Jag asked, amused. “You don’t sound very convinced.”

“I don’t know,” Niall whined.

“What kind of flagpoles are big and strong?”

“Oh, gods.” Niall tried to bang his forehead against the table; Jag caught his face before he could hurt himself. Niall’s cheeks were soft, velvety, and Jag wanted to spend more time admiring his face.

“How many books have you written?” Jag asked gently.

Niall shook his head.

“Would you let me read one?”

“No!”

“Alright.” Jag sat back, giving Niall a smile so Niall knew there was no pressure coming from him.

“But.” Niall sucked in a deep breath like he was preparing for something disastrous. “I need help.”

“That’s right, you mentioned that. How can I help?”

“I need you to... go to the restroom. With me.” Niall’s face turned bright red. He was adorable.

“Sure. Let’s go.”

“Do we need wipes? Are there wipes?” Niall looked around suddenly, his gaze locking on Olson. “Maybe Olson has wipes.”

Jag got out of the booth and helped Niall to his feet. He grabbed Niall’s bag and handed it over to Olson at the bar for safekeeping. “Niall wants to know if you have some wipes?”

Olson raised his eyebrows at Niall.

Niall squirmed. “For, um. For.” He glanced to the back, where the restrooms were.

Olson’s eyebrows shot up. “You sure?”

What were they not telling Jag?

Niall nodded quickly. Olson grabbed a bulk plastic dispenser from behind the counter, pulling out a handful of wipes. He handed them to Jag. “There.”

They smelled like disinfecting wipes. Mystified, Jag followed Niall to the restroom, wondering what Niall wanted him to clean. The mirrors? The sinks?

The restroom comprised of mirrors and sinks on one end, and cubicles on the other. Jag followed Niall down the aisle to the very last cubicle, blinking when Niall stepped aside to let him through. “You can, um, stand in there.”

Jag gave the cubicle’s interior a quick once over—and paused at the round hole in the wall.

The round, fist-sized, hip-level hole.

He blinked. “Wait.”

He’d been to the Wine Shack’s restroom once, but he’d only stepped into the nearest cubicle and not thought to check the rest.

Suddenly, the wipes made a lot of sense.

Niall fidgeted, his ears red. “Y-you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

“How is this helping you?” The words fell out of Jag’s mouth.

“Research?” Niall squeaked.