Byron crawled into bed after taking a shower, disgusted. He lay there, staring up at the ceiling. He probably had just pissed off the Alpha by walking out for the second week in a row.
Gev turned over in his sleep, putting an arm across Byron’s chest. Why did he bother going anymore? He hated dancing. He hated the music. He hated the damn wolfsbane in the beer. He had hoped to just sit and relax, ignore the music, people watch, listen to others’ conversations, and just relax.
But no, Xavier forced them to put up a united front. We’re pack. We’re family. We have to be together, do things as a pack. We have to dance, drink the damn Blue Moon that tasted like ashes in his mouth, and just…
“Just because we’re pack, we shouldn’t be joined at the damn hip,” he muttered angrily. He was going to fight that Rakshasa once they found it. He would do what the pack needed. But he didn’t need to socialize, to grind on the dance floor with the nearest guy next to him.
And then Mal had to go off with Xavier, who treats him like a toy, a distraction, a surrogate for Gabe. Byron shook his head, turned over and spooned into Gev. He guessed that it was his job, to satisfy Xavier. “His choice,” he said out loud.
Gev hummed for a moment, getting out of sleep. He must have glanced at the alarm clock beside the bed because he said quietly, “You’re home early.”
“I don’t want to go there anymore.”
“Hm?” Gev turned over.
“I don’t mind talking to people one on one, but when there’s a bunch of us together, I – I don’t feel comfortable.”
“Wolves are in packs, love,” Gev said, hugging Byron.
“But not all the time.”
Gev nodded. “It’s safer in numbers.”
“Then I’m not going anymore.”
Gev put his hand on Byron’s face. “Don’t isolate yourself. It’s not good for you, it’s not good for the pack.”
“I don’t hate them. I just don’t feel that I belong in such a large group when doing things. Like…I need to go to Paragon. I got my fake papers cleared and I’m going over there to find Jason.”
Gev sat up. “You’re not going alone – ”
Byron touched his lover’s face. “I have to. This is something I have to do myself.”
“No, it’s not.”
Byron finally blurted out, “They don’t care if I find my mother or my sister, anyway!”
“You’re wrong, Byron. They care about you. I care about you.”
Byron buried his face in his lover’s chest and sobbed. “My love,” Gev said, caressing Byron’s wet hair, “Let us help you.”
“I’ll…think about it,” he said, after lifting his head and looking at Gev. “I’ll think about it.”
Gev took Byron in his arms, kissing his head, and they fell asleep that way.