Page 147 of Broken Bonds

That, and I really want to nest with my mate.

I’ve already arranged everything with my guys, two of them who are on the safety team for the run and couldn’t work today because they were with me and Davis and Shawn and the rest of the team doing the initial walk-through this morning.

This afternoon, Jax will be summoned once Shawn’s certain Mal is deep under the effects of the concoction and is in a mating heat. Obviously, Jax will know something’s up, but he won’t be expecting what we have ready for him.

Shawn drove Jax’s truck today. It’s parked out of sight on the other end of the house, for now, because we didn’t want Mal seeing it. Once Shawn gives the signal this is going down, Davis will drive it out to the clearing, dropping members of the safety team into position before staging the truck out of sight of the clearing, but so we have easy access to it at the end. One of the other safety team members will grab everyone’s clothes and run them down to the clearing with my ATV, taking the back way.

Not that Mal and Shawn will likely need them for a couple of days, but I think Jax and I will prefer to have them.

At least until the extra people depart and the post-hunt mating heat fun begins for the two omegas.

I’m really rooting for Shawn to catch this time, even though he doesn’t think it’ll happen.

I’m literally pacing the house with my cell in my hand, waiting for Shawn to text me if the concoction works on Mal. I promised him I wouldn’t come down there until he texts me, and that was the most difficult damned promise I’ve ever made.

I want to be there for Mal.

It’s killing me I have to hang back for this part of the process. But Shawn’s right that we can’t screw this up because it’s Mal’s life on the line.

It’s been over an hour since Shawn locked the door, and it’s still stupid that I jump and nearly drop my phone when Shawn texts me. I spend a ridiculous amount of time juggling the damned thing and trying not to drop it before I can finally get my damned hands wrapped around it.

We’re a go.

I probably run that path the fastest I ever have. My hands tremble as I punch in the door code and let myself in.

Mal’s securely strapped onto the frame but he still tries to jerk his head to look, his nose working, his eyes wide and glazed, pupils dilated.

And holy shit does the room already smell like sex.

My cock painfully hardens in my jeans. Shawn’s standing next to the frame, naked, and when I take a step toward them he points at the door and makes a motion for me to lock it behind me, so I do.

I hear Mal’s plaintive whines and the noises from the frame as he jerks against his restraints. I start to reach for my shirt, and Shawn holds up a finger, shaking his head at me.

I stand there, sucking in deep breaths because I can’t help it—Mal’s scent is thick in the room, and I hate that part of me wants to shove Shawn away from him because he’s standing right there next to him.

Where the fuck did that come from?

Shawn squats in front of Mal, looking into his eyes, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Pink paint. Cones.”

Mal tries to look at me but Shawn grabs a handful of his hair and gently shakes his head to get his attention. “Say it. Pink paint. Cones.”

“P-pink paint. C-cones.”

Shawn pats him on the cheek but I know he’s speaking to me now. “Let’s hope that’s really taking. I probably should’ve started him on that sooner, but I was afraid if I tried to make him brain too much too soon that it might derail the effects.” He looks up at me. “Text Davis and ask him to check the course one last time, please? Make sure he tapes off any side trails that Mal might accidentally turn down in case he misses the paint markings, putting it low to the ground where Mal won’t miss them when shifted. I’m not certain the instructions have fully computed in his brain.”

“Okay.” I have trouble texting because my brain is being starved of oxygen by my cock, but I finally get it sent and he texts me a thumbs-up seconds later.

Shawn reaches under Mal and grazes his thumbnails over his nipples. The whining, needy moan rolling from my mate nearly makes me come in my jeans.

“That’s it, pup,” he coos to him. “Go with it.”

Now that I’m looking, I realize Shawn’s already wrapped not only a cock strap, but a couple of jelly cock rings around Mal. His cock is hard, dripping, and it takes even more self-control on my part not to dive under there and start sucking it.

As if reading my mind, Shawn glances over at me. “Yeah, that’s why you’re staying dressed right now. Once Jax is here and strapped down, then you strip as part of the act. I can’t stop you from fucking him; you’re too big for me to overpower.”

“Why can’t I just fuck him now? Won’t it work?”

“In an ideal world, yes,” Shawn says. “But this isn’t an ideal world, and several people said him panicking and getting his adrenaline pumping is extra insurance. You can come over here as long as you don’t touch his cock. He’s probably on a hair-trigger already. That was another repeated suggestion from multiple sources—we don’t let him come until you fuck him.”