391: Get With the Program

Get With the Program

GAHRYE1

Kalle stood square on to Dillon, the long, dark green sweater she wore flaring out from under her fists, which were resting on her hips. Her eyes were bright and aflame.

Dillon stood with his back to Gahrye, but close to her. Far too close to her. Gahrye tensed.

Kalle caught his eye from the side.

"I would be happy to kick this pup in the ass and send him home whining, if you'd like," he ground out, glaring at Dillon's back.

Kalle's lips twitched, but she shook her head. "Dillon was just leaving."

"No, I wasn't," the male growled. "You can't be serious about this guy. He doesn't even have a job, right? You've known him for what… two months, maybe?"

Kalle snorted. "You said you were in love with me after six weeks!"

Gahrye felt the words like a tiny knife sliding between his ribs. But he didn't flinch.

"That's you and me," Dillon insisted. "This loser is—"

Gahrye bristled, but Kalle held him off with her eyes.

"That is my husband you're talking about, Dillon, so shut up until you know what you're saying."

Gahrye was surprised she admitted it—they were supposed to be hiding. But not as surprised as Dillon.

"Husband? You—wait… HUSBAND?"

Kalle shushed him, her eyes going wide as she realized what she'd done and looked frantically towards the door. "Keep your voice down! Yes, my husband!"

Gahrye leaned back to peer out and make sure there was no one nearby to hear, then stepped in and closed the door, turning back to face them both—when rage consumed him.

Dillon had taken hold of Kalle's wrist and was swearing at her hand. "A leather ring? A leather fucking ring and you're going to throw away what we had for a year—"

"I get that you don't understand the symbolism, Dillon, but unlike your gestures, this one has meaning."

"You barely know this dude!"

"I am in love with him. We have a… very unique bond. You need to move on."

"Move on?! Move on?! We weren't even finished!"

"You finished us the second you slept with someone else!" Kalle tried to yank her hand out of his grip, but he didn't let her go.

It was instinct. Thoughtless. A simple matter of gripping the male's wrist and bringing an elbow to that particular spot near the joint so that his entire hand would feel as if it had been jolted by lightning.

Dillon yelped and dropped her hand and Gahrye yanked him around and shoved him back hard enough that he stumbled, following him and stepping right into his space even as the male cowered and began to yelp about assault.

"You do not. touch. my. mate."

"Don't you touch me! Don't you do it! I'll call the cops this time!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Dillon," Kalle sighed. But she didn't pull Gahrye away from the male, and Gahrye was glad. He would not like to have resisted her in front of this… asswipe.

Instead, as Dillon backed into the wall and started fumbling for something in his pocket, Gahrye stood over him and spoke through his teeth.

"No matter your anger, no matter your feelings, you do not hold a female against her will. Ever."

"Thanks for the tip, Captain America—but she's my girlfriend and—"

"I am not the Captain—" Gahrye started, confused. But Kalle broke in.

"Dillon, I am not your girlfriend and haven't been since I found you in bed with someone else. So, go lick your wounds somewhere else before my husband gets angry."

"BULLSHIT, THIS ASSHOLE IS NOT YOUR HUSBAND!" Dillon yelled.

"Would you shut up?!" Kalle hissed.

But as Dillon's lip pulled up, away from his teeth, and he started in again, "NO I WILL NOT—" Gahrye was done letting such a beta speak down to his mate. Until he taught her how to measure herself accurately, he would handle the asswipes of this world for her.

He grabbed Dillon's throat, his fingers digging hard into either side of the male's esophagus until Dillon's words cut off and he made a strangled noise and grabbed for Gahrye's wrist.

The male could still breathe, but only just. Gahrye let him see the desire in his eyes to close his fingers and tear out the male's pathetic, undefended throat.

"You will speak to her with courtesy, or you will not speak at all," he said quietly.

"Gahrye, don't. Really. He can report you for that and—"

"Listen to your wife," Dillon croaked, his face growing red and hands shaking on Gahrye's wrist.

"Gahrye, let him go. Please."

Kalle put a hand to his back and he gave the male a withering look, then shoved him back against the wall.

"Psycho," Dillon croaked.

"I don't know what that is, but I'm assuming you don't want one hunting you in the night. So, keep your hands off my wife."

There was the tiniest happy sigh from behind him, but when he turned to look at her, Kalle's face was innocently blank.

Dillon sneered, but didn't move away from the wall. "I'm reporting you to the Police for assault," he said hoarsely. "That's the second time."

Gahrye smiled. "Go ahead. I'm happy to tell them about you holding onto my wife when she tried to get away from you."

Dillon opened his mouth, but Kalle stepped in. "Just leave, Dillon, please. I'll talk to him."

Gahrye raised an eyebrow at her, but she was urging him out of the way to let Dillon pass. The male tried to look strong walking away, but Gahrye didn't miss that his footsteps became faster the closer he got to the door.

The male was quite tall and broad, so the view beyond him was obscured when he walked out the door. Gahrye turned to Kalle to ask her about this "talking to," but her eyes suddenly went wide, and then she looked at Gahrye nervously.

He was turning to see what had scared her when her grandmother's soft voice said, "I knew it. You're true mates, aren't you?"

pqdm.com