Prickly By Nature (14 page)

Clearing his throat, Dylan squeezed Avery’s hand and said, “Excuse me, sir. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I’m—”

“And this”—Leon pointed a crooked, knobby finger at Avery—“this mutt. You brought a mangy dog to your brother’s wedding. What would your grandmother think?”

Dylan reeled back, surprised, then narrowed his eyes just as quickly. Bringing Avery’s grandmother into it was a low blow. She had been the one person in his family Avery had looked up to the most. Dylan could tell the words struck their intended target. But just when he opened his mouth to give that fucker a piece of his mind, Avery found his voice.

“Daddy, you can talk down to me all you want, but you will not disrespect Dylan. I’m here so y’all can save face and all of your friends don’t talk about you behind your back.”

“He’s not welcome here.”

“He’s standing right here,” Dylan interrupted.

For the first time, Leon looked up at him, his lips turned up in a sneer. “
You
are not welcome here, dog.”

“Then we’ll be going,” Dylan replied.

“Like hell you will,” Leon barked and stomped over, snagging Avery’s wrist. “You do not speak for him. Avery is staying until Wynfield’s wedding.”

Yanking away from his father’s hold, Avery backed into Dylan. Dylan wrapped his arms around him. “You’re wrong. Dylan is my mate.”

Leon chuckled; the sound left much to be desired. “Hedgehogs don’t mate wolves.
You
do not mate a wolf.”

“Dylan is my mate,” Avery repeated with a growl, tilting his neck for Leon to see the mark. Pride filled Dylan. “Mine. And if he is not welcome here, neither am I. If you still wanted a say in what I do and who I see, you should have thought about that before you cut me off and pushed me away. Though, honestly, I’m glad you did. I might never have accepted Dylan. I certainly wouldn’t be where I am today.”

“And where is that exactly?” Leon sniffed in a way that seemed naturally haughty. “The slums of Portland? Jesus, Avery, what are you doing there? Working in one of those strip clubs they’re so famous for?”

“So what if I am.”

Leon blanched and staggered back. The looks on Wynfield’s and Cynthia’s faces held complete and utter disbelief. Dylan had to hold back the laugh threatening to escape. But what he wouldn’t give to have Avery strip for him and only him. That was a thought for another time and place. Definitely a noteworthy idea, though.

“You will not—”

“Not your business, Father. I am happy. That’s all that matters. Something you haven’t known in a very long time.”

Dylan thought he heard a snort and darted his gaze to Avery’s brother, who was covering a cough that looked a hell of a lot like a smile. It was the first time Dylan thought the guy might hold the tiniest bit of normalcy in him. Maybe he was just stuck in this world, in this house, under his father’s thumb, with no way out. Dylan couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him.

“I don’t need happiness,” Leon snapped. “I have something you don’t.”

Barely keeping up with the conversation, Dylan let his gaze travel to Cynthia, who still sat unmoving by the large window, her face a mask of indifference once again. Her husband’s declaration didn’t seem to bother her in the least. She looked so numb to him, to it all. She probably hadn’t seen happiness in a while either. It made Dylan sad for her and Wynfield, but most of all for Avery. How was it that his passionate, caring, big-hearted hedgehog grew up in this house, with these people?

“Money?” Avery scoffed. “Everything you do revolves around that, and it’s yet to bring you happiness or satisfaction. Wonder why that is?”

That surprised Dylan. When Dylan had met him, Avery had had money, and after he was cut off, he had been looking forward to nothing more than the release of his trust fund. But now that same man—the man Dylan wouldn’t love any less if he were a prince or a pauper—was turning his nose up at the very thing that had shaped his childhood and early adult years. Until just a few months ago.

Along with the pride that already held residence in his chest, love, respect, and admiration all culminated within him. A feeling he had both always felt for Avery and never felt before. His mate turned new corners every day, showed hidden aspects of himself that Dylan found fascinating. He loved every minute of it.

The look on Leon’s face at Avery’s statement was incredulous and cunning. “Fine,” he said. “If you send your puppy on his way, I’ll reinstate your allowance with an increase.”

Without looking Dylan heard the scowl in Avery’s tone. “No.”

Leon startled. “No?”

“No,” Avery repeated. “If I had to choose between taking your money and keeping my mate with me, I’d happily live in the streets with Dylan.” Avery relaxed into Dylan’s arms with a sigh.

His dad laughed, a humorless sound. “But you’re fine to wait for your trust?”

“My trust has nothing to do with you. It’s from Grandmother, and whether you like it or not, it’s a gift she intended for me.” Avery paused. “I plan on doing more with what I’m given. Be more. With or without you. If you can’t handle that, it doesn’t matter to me. I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life.”

A tiny thrill tickled Dylan and he realized he was feeling Avery. The pride in himself for standing up to his father.

In that moment, adoration and happiness filtered deep in Dylan’s chest—for Avery’s strength and courage. A spark of electricity zipped along Dylan’s spine. Getting aroused by Avery’s bratty behavior was a common occurrence as of late, but in their current company, a hard-on was not Dylan’s choice situation.

Avery reached for Dylan’s hand. “Now,” he said. “This has been great fun, but Dylan and I have plans. Chinese water torture sounds like more fun than”—Avery waved his other hand around—“this. Thanks, but no thanks.”

When Avery beamed up at Dylan, Dylan dropped a kiss on his cheek and winked. “I’m sure we could make it interesting.”

Avery snorted. “Until it’s perfected,” he said as if he wasn’t the focus of everyone else in the room.

Dylan continued to ignore the other Babineauxs. “You sure you want to leave?”

“Yeah, I can show you around town. We can have breakfast with Miss Georgie before we go home.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Without looking away from Dylan, Avery grinned and said, “Thanks for the invite, but my mate and I will regretfully have to decline. Wyn, I wish you and your soon-to-be wife a happy marriage.”

Avery tugged on Dylan and moved them toward the door.

“Boy, get back here. I’m not finished with you yet.” Leon’s voice rumbled low and threatening enough to make a wolf proud. Dylan wasn’t.

But Avery was obviously finished with them as he continued walking away with Dylan in tow. They were nearly to the door and their escape when the thud of running feet following echoed behind them.

Avery huffed and Dylan smirked.

Dylan glanced over his shoulder. Wynfield Babineaux, the good son who had made barely a peep, looked at Avery with a mixture of longing, pride, and awe.

“Avery”—Wyn landed a hand on Avery’s shoulder—“I know… I know why you’re going.”

The shock of Wyn’s words hitting Avery vibrated through their bond enough for Avery to stop and face his brother.

Wyn went on. “I don’t blame you. I wish… well, I wish I was as brave.”

Avery’s brow furrowed when he squinted. “Wyn, what are you—”

“Just… would you come tomorrow? For me,” he added in a sudden, quick breath. Uncertainty filled the older brother’s eyes but he didn’t look away. “I… we haven’t been close in a long time and I blame myself, but it would mean everything to me if you would be here to support me.”

“I don’t understand why you’d even care,” Avery told him. “I’m happy for you. I am. I hope that you’ve found everything that’s been missing from your life. But I don’t know why you even want me there.”

The emotion on Wyn’s face surprised Dylan. “Because you’re my brother. Isn’t that enough? Can you do this? For me? Not for Father or Mother or for the rest of St. Tammany Parish. Can you be here because I’ll do better knowing that at least one person here supports me and wants what’s best for me and not their image? Please?”

Dylan had been quiet up to that point, but the desperation in Wyn’s words, in his eyes, was enough to crumble Dylan’s resolve.

He looked down at Avery. “Babe, maybe—”

“Bring your mate,” Wyn blurted, no hesitation in his voice as he doled out the invitation. Eyes very much like Avery’s, but a brighter green, met Dylan’s. “Dylan,” Wyn said, “I would be honored if you would attend my wedding. As my brother’s mate.”

“But what about Father?” Avery finally got a word in edgewise. “It’s obvious he can’t be cordial.”

“Fuck Father,” Wyn spat and Avery’s eyes rounded in shock. “This is my wedding, my day.”

“What about Lizette?” Avery was likely grasping for straws. “She’s not going to want us there.”

Wyn smirked and Dylan didn’t know if it was because he knew he was breaking Avery down or if it had to do with Wyn’s soon-to-be wife—it didn’t particularly matter.

“Let me handle Lizette,” Wyn told them, his gaze softening. “Just please. I want you there. I think I need to have you there.”

For a long moment, none of them spoke.

When Avery sighed, Dylan knew Wyn had won. “Fine,” Avery answered. “We’ll come. But the first asshole to make a smartass remark about Dylan is getting punched in the nose.”

Dylan snorted, then leaned over to brush his lips over Avery’s temple. “My white knight.”

“Don’t you know it,” Avery replied.

“Deal,” Wyn said, reaching up and squeezing Avery’s shoulder. “Thank you. I truly appreciate it. And it was nice to meet you, Dylan. Under different circumstances, I think we might have been friends.”

His words rang true to Dylan’s ears.

“Maybe we still can,” Dylan said.

“Okay.” Avery spoke into the awkward moment. “So, we’ll see you tomorrow. Um… good luck and all that.”

Wyn nodded his good-bye, then turned and walked back into the lion’s den. Hedgehog’s den?

When they stepped into the breeze, finally alone, Avery beamed up at him, guileless. Distantly Dylan wondered how it was possible that Avery became more beautiful every day.

“C’mon.” Avery grabbed his hand and pulled him to their vehicle.

Alone time was definitely in order.

ONCE THEY
were in the car, Avery finally relaxed his shoulders. Well, that little family reunion had gone about as well as he’d expected. He wanted to turn to Dylan and say “I told you so,” but he thought Dylan had gotten that message loud and clear already. And Wyn…. Avery still couldn’t quite believe that scene in the hallway or understand why his presence would matter to Wyn one way or the other. Still, he couldn’t refuse, not with Wyn looking at him so entreatingly. Because he got it; really, he did. If he’d had less of a backbone, he might’ve wound up stuck under his father’s thumb in Mandeville instead of mated and happy in Portland. For as much as Wynfield had been wild as a teen, when push came to shove, he toed the line of their father’s wishes. It wasn’t in Avery to obey—especially a man who showed him so little affection. Or any at all.

“Go back to Tammany Parkway,” he said as Dylan navigated the long driveway to the main road. He pulled out his iPhone and started searching hotel availability in nearby Covington. There weren’t many options in Mandeville itself, and besides, he didn’t want to be that close to his parents anyway. Even twenty-five minutes didn’t feel far enough. He’d have asked Dylan to go back to New Orleans had they not agreed to come back for the wedding tomorrow.

He found an open room and quickly reserved it. Then he set up the GPS to direct the way, and settled in his seat.

It didn’t take long to arrive and check in to the hotel. They christened the king-size bed, but afterward, Avery felt too restless to stay locked away in their room. He dragged Dylan out to wander the downtown area. A little retail therapy and a delicious meal went miles toward easing his nerves about the wedding. Whatever happened, he and Dylan would deal with it. For Wyn’s sake.

THE WEDDING
on Saturday was in turns better and worse than he anticipated. The day itself passed in a rush, and with the sudden influx of staff, caterers, and guests, Avery’s father was too distracted to do more than cast them a baleful glare when Avery and Dylan took their seats for the ceremony. Wyn spotted them and his face lit up in a grateful smile. Despite his discomfort, Avery returned the expression, glad they’d agreed to come back. His sister, Debbie, a bridesmaid, eyed them both with her nose crinkled, as if she’d smelled something distasteful. Avery ignored her. And he felt loads better when Miss Georgie and one of her sons joined him and Dylan in their row.

Once the shifters in attendance recognized what Dylan was, he and Avery were mostly ignored, outside of stares and whispers and the occasional sneer. No one there compared to Dylan strength-wise, so no one dared approach… until the reception when alcohol fueled their bravery. Or rather, stupidity. Then people murmured insults as they passed, in spite of Wyn’s periodic stops at their table and Miss Georgie’s large, disapproving presence—she and her son had joined Dylan and Avery when others shied away. A few of his younger, brasher cousins even bumped into Avery and feigned apologies whenever they crossed paths. One such “accident” nearly sent him to the ground and made Dylan spring from his seat with a cutoff growl. There were humans in attendance, so the situation never escalated, but by the end of the evening, Avery’s entire body felt like an exposed nerve—throbbing in agony while being constantly prodded and poked.

He sensed Dylan’s discomfort and irritation through their bond, and it made him feel sick, especially because Dylan’s strongest emotion was concern—for Avery. Dylan had probably never experienced such a prejudiced environment against wolves. It had to be painful, or at the very least, unsettling. Yet even when he was the one who should’ve felt raw and attacked, his primary worry was Avery.

The realization made Avery’s eyes sting. He sat at their assigned table, with its starched linens and extravagant centerpiece, surrounded by his rich relations, on the lush, sprawling lawn of the mansion where he’d been raised, and fought not to cry. Had he really been proud to be a member of Mandeville’s bigoted high society at one point? These people were narrow-minded and classist, and right then, he’d had more of their derision than he could stand.