03-Strength of the Mate (6 page)

He refused to turn around. Adam had managed to avoid meeting Dawson’s eyes as he’d crossed the room. If he looked around now, Rivers would think Adam was searching for him. He hoped like hell Dawson didn’t know the effect he had on him.

Paul and Jason stood grinning at him, as Will pressed the bar up from his chest.

“You’re the most popular guy on base,” Paul said, nudging Adam’s shoulder with his own.

That smile didn’t have the same effect on Adam that it used to. He didn’t even have to wonder why. Adam felt Dawson’s eyes on him, boring into his back like a laser.

“I’m glad you guys got some stuff you really need,” said Adam. “Just because keeping my ass alive is your job, doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it.”

“You make it easy for us, brah,” Jason said, taking weights off the bar. “You drive safe and you stay frosty under fire. You don’t drive all panicked and get on the radio and start screaming.”

That surprised Adam. He started to reply but Paul spoke up first.

“You ready to rotate in?” He indicated the weight bar.

“Might as well.” The Marines had quickly taught Adam that working out helped pass time. Staying physically fit also made it easier to tolerate Iraq’s rough conditions. Most of all, strength and stamina would help him stay alive if the worst happened during a convoy.

Shaking off that dark thought, Adam sat down on the bench. He got ready for his set, keeping his eyes on the floor. If he looked up, he might find Dawson watching him, and that’s the last thing he needed.

“Take your shirt off, dude,” Jason said. He stood at Adam’s head, ready to spot during the lift. “You’re gonna sweat through it, anyway. You’ll appreciate having a dry shirt to put on when you’re done.”

Adam knew Jason was probably right. He’d been proud of his body before he’d started hanging out with infantry Marines. The werewolves were even worse. They were able to lift ten times the weight they looked like they could lift, and they looked like they could lift a lot.

Jason said Adam was in damn good shape for a civilian. He’d stopped being self-conscious about taking off his shirt around the Marines, but knowing Dawson was just across the room left him paralyzed. He wouldn’t put it past Jason to try to put Adam on the spot with Dawson, too.

“I’ll hold it for you, brah,” Will said, extending his hand for Adam’s T-shirt.

Clenching his jaw, Adam pulled the hem of his shirt up over his head. Without looking up, he handed it off to Will. Keeping his eyes on the ceiling, he adjusted his grip on the bar. He tried not to wonder what Dawson thought of Adam’s naked chest. He knew the Marines recognized the scar on his chest for what it was—a gunshot wound. To Adam’s relief, none of them had asked about it. Rivers probably knew the whole shameful story.

Taking a deep breath, Adam lifted the bar. Jason said encouraging words, counting out each of Adam’s reps. He didn’t really hear Jason’s words. Instead, he focused on the tone of voice.

Fatigue set in at the end of his set. Jason placed two fingers beneath the bar, giving just enough help to keep Adam from getting hurt. His encouragement grew louder. On the last rep, Adam’s arms shook. Jason gripped the bar with one hand, lifting slightly until Adam extended his arms.

Adam breathed hard and shook out his arms.

“Impressive.”

Adam jolted at the sound of Dawson’s voice. His eyes snapped up to meet Rivers’ challenging gaze. A wave of anger swept through him. If Dawson knew the effect he had on Adam, that meant he was being deliberately provocative.

“Hey, Gunny,” Paul greeted. “Yeah, Madison’s in damn good shape for a human civilian.”

Adam knew Mercer’s words were really a compliment. He just hated it when people talked about him like he wasn’t there.

“Good technique, too,” Rivers replied. He stood with his hands on his hips. The posture flexed the muscles of his upper body. He had a lot to show off, and seemed to know the best way to do it.

Adam refused to acknowledge Rivers. He stood up to let Paul take his place, making sure Will was between Dawson and him. If Adam ignored him, maybe he’d get bored and go away.

Across the room, voices rose in anger. Adam glanced over his shoulder, searching for the source. Two Marines Adam didn’t know faced each other. Their argument was heated and getting nastier by the second. Adam frowned.

“What’s the pack leader’s policy on two-eff?” Dawson’s question seemed directed at anyone with the answer. He watched the conflict through narrowed eyes. His posture looked relaxed, but Adam swore he could feel a coiled tension in him.

“There is none,” Paul answered darkly. When Dawson glanced at him, Mercer returned his gaze pointedly.

“So there are no consequences for drawing blood, and we’re going to be tripping over werewolves having sex?” Dawson’s disbelief was mixed with disapproval.

Adam had no idea why Rivers was pissed about it. Shit like this happened every full moon. Adam suspected the disapproval was directed at the lack of whatever policies he’d expected there to be.

“Just wait ’til the run,” Jason said with a slow shake of his head. “It’s a fucking free-for-all. And it’s our esteemed pack leader who picks most of the fights.”

Color swirled in Dawson’s eyes. They darkened slightly. He clenched his jaw, turning back to watch the escalating argument. Those unusual eyes tugged at something low in Adam’s belly.

In less than the blink of an eye, the shouting match turned into a fist fight. Adam turned toward the melee. He fucking hated these fights. There was always blood.

The combatants had barely thrown their first few punches when an angry Dawson Rivers appeared beside them. “Stand down! Both of you!” he demanded in a loud voice. The fighters stopped trading blows, but they still stood, glaring, fists cocked. “I said stand down, Marines. Right the fuck now!”

Reluctantly, the two lowered their arms and stepped apart. They still eyed one another with hostility. Their breathing was the only sound in the room. Everyone watched the drama unfold, like something important hung in the balance.

“Do you two even know what you’re fighting about?” Rivers asked dubiously.

The two Marines glanced at him. They both shifted their weight from foot to foot, looking sheepish.

“It’s the full moon,” Dawson said into the silence. “If you need to work off some aggression, put on your gloves and grab a referee. This kind of shit affects combat effectiveness, and that’s not acceptable.”

“Sorry, Gunny,” said one of the Marines. “It’s just the full moon.”

“You’re right, Gunny Rivers,” the second combatant agreed. “We should have better self-control.”

Dawson looked around the room. “Don’t you have any designated referees?”

There were several negative head shakes.

“I’d volunteer, Gunny,” Paul said suddenly. “If there was any effort put into actually managing the base
sippe
.”

Dawson nodded at Paul. “For today and tomorrow, if you feel excess aggression, get Sergeant Mercer or me to referee.” He sighed harshly. “If you don’t have someplace private to fuck, try to work off your tension another way. At least for now.”

That surprised Adam. He usually stayed in his hooch—most of the humans did—the day after the full moon run. Stepping over couples in mid-orgasm didn’t bother him. Being cornered in the head, or pinned against a nearby wall, wasn’t his idea of a good time. Adam had always thought werewolves just lost control, since he knew his brother’s mate was nearly blind with lust after he led his pack’s runs.

Now that he thought about it, neither Noah nor Dawson seemed like men who ever lost control. And for that matter, Lucas and Tim were nobody’s victims.

Adam didn’t think it would be unpleasant to have Dawson pin him to a wall, if he looked at Adam the way Jeremy looked at Tim.

Muted conversations resumed as Rivers returned to stand beside Will. Adam feigned interest in watching Paul lift the heavy weights. Before Dawson had arrived, he hadn’t had to pretend.

Red-faced and breathing heavy, Mercer finished his set, settling the bar down with a loud clang. Quickly, he swapped places with Jason. He wasn’t carrying as much muscle as Paul, but Jason could lift nearly as much weight.

Voices rose angrily. The group of Marines directly across from them started a shoving match. This time, Adam didn’t see Dawson move. In an instant, Rivers had a hand wrapped around one of the Marine’s throats.

“What did I just say?” he growled. “I’m standing four feet away! Here you are, getting into a fight.”

“It’s my fault, Gunny,” said a second Marine. “I shoved first. I backed off as soon as I did it. Won’t happen again.”

Before Adam knew what was happening, Will settled in for his set. Rivers came to stand close enough that Adam felt the heat of his body. There was no way to create distance between them without looking afraid.

He’d be damned if he was gonna show Rivers any fear.

“Usually, by the time we all shift, half the pack is bloody and bruised,” Jason murmured as he went to stand on Dawson’s other side. “Sometimes there are even broken bones.”

“Which leaves the base vulnerable in the event of an attack,” said Dawson.

Adam was amazed at Rivers’ ego. “There are a hell of a lot of Marines stationed here,” he said dismissively. “You’re talking about a small group.”

“We’re talking about almost half of the Marines stationed here,” Jason said, not hiding his annoyance. “If an attack includes a hostile wolf pack, we could be fucked.”

“It’s a breach of werewolf law that negatively affects Marine Corps discipline.” Dawson looked at Adam challengingly. “It’s unacceptable. We’re better than that.”

Adam heard the implied we’re better than you. He turned back to watch Will easily lift three times the weight Adam could press. He clenched his jaw, swallowing down his anger, just like he always did.

Another argument broke out across the room. Adam rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. He liked Paul, Will, and especially Jason, but Christ, werewolves were hardly more than thugs during this cycle of the moon.

This time, Rivers stood beside the two Marines, glancing back and forth between them. Immediately, both backed down, their postures relaxing. Dawson smiled his approval, giving each of their shoulders a squeeze.

“He makes it look so easy,” Will murmured.

“For him, it is,” Jason said. They all stood watching, what was now, a friendly conversation.

“For some of us, dominance just comes naturally,” added Paul.

That was true of humans, too. Tim was an example of someone who always had to be right, and in charge. People like Adam, who just wanted to live his own life, ended up having to do everything Tim’s way.

“Things are worse than the True Alpha thought,” Rivers said when he rejoined them.

“This is nothing,” Mercer said, glancing meaningfully at Dawson.

“And here I thought the Alpha liked me,” Rivers said, with a slow shake of his head. One side of his distracting mouth lifted in humor. “I believed him when he said I’d be helping him out, deploying here.”

“You are,” Adam surprised himself by saying. “You’re helping Noah sleep in his own bed. With Lucas.”

Dawson barked a laugh, looking at Adam in surprise.

“The Alpha’s a smart guy,” Jason said with a laugh. “He figured out how to keep getting laid on a regular basis.”

“I wish I could figure out how to do that.” Will feigned sadness, letting his shoulders droop.

“You can’t figure out how to get laid once,” said Paul, smacking Will on the back of the head. “Let alone regularly.”

Adam laughed at their antics, like he always did. He ignored the pain twisting in his chest, reminding him of what he used to have with his brothers. He and Jase held their own just fine against Tim and Eric.

When he finally sat down for his final set with the weights, Adam was drenched in sweat. He was glad he had a dry shirt to put on. He was embarrassed at how much help he needed with his final reps. Adam’s arms and shoulders were wrung out; weakened by fatigue and feeling rubbery. His mouth was dry, even as sweat streamed down his upper body. He glanced around for his bottle of water. Dawson handed Adam a freshly opened bottle. The contents were still cool enough to generate moisture on the outside of the bottle. Adam knew it would taste good, and feel even better on his dry throat.

Reluctantly, he took the damp bottle from Dawson, careful not to let their hands touch. He muttered a grudging word of thanks. Adam stared at the lip of the bottle, resisting the urge to wipe it clean with the hem of his T-shirt.

“You know humans can’t catch disease from shifters, right?” asked Dawson.

Adam’s gaze snapped up to Rivers’ face. He expected to see humor there. Instead, he found Dawson’s expression blank. The swirling colors of his eyes were the only sign of emotion.

“Yeah, I know,” Adam snapped. “I’m not stupid.” What the hell did Rivers have to be pissed off about?

“No one said you were,” Dawson replied, keeping his voice low. “No one implied you were, either. But you are being a dick.”

Will and Jason helped Paul break down the weights they’d used, putting them neatly away. If they were aware of the conflict, they hid it expertly. Adam was starting to think he shouldn’t trust werewolves to be honest.

Dawson sounded just like Tim. Anger flared in Adam’s chest. He took a step closer to Rivers.

“Now is not the time or the place,” Dawson said, so quietly, Adam almost couldn’t hear him. In a louder voice he ordered, “Drink up, Madison. You need to stay hydrated so you don’t get sick.”

“I’m fucking hungry,” Jason declared, glancing at each of them. “You guys ready to get something to eat?”

As the werewolves agreed it was time for food, Adam drank down a good portion of the water. He’d been right; it tasted great and felt fucking fantastic on his parched throat. Adam wanted to ask why the werewolves had voracious appetites in the days before the full moon, but he hid his curiosity behind another long drink. He was gonna have to figure a way to learn about some of this stuff.

Adam wasn’t all that hungry yet. He thought about heading back to his hooch but he refused to give Dawson the satisfaction of thinking he’d driven Adam off. Handing the water bottle back, he agreed to join them at the dining hall.