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“Where?”

He wasn’t sure how to tell her what he wanted to happen before he let her go. He didn’t want her to bolt, especially as he contemplated the years and years ahead of him and all of the dishonest, disinterested sex he was going to have to have.

He finished his Goose. “Somewhere private.”

As she drank from the mug, her brows dropped down low. “So you’re really going to let me go, huh?”

He stared at her profile and wished they had met under different circumstances. Except how in the fuck would that have ever happened?

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I am.”

Standing in front of his locker three hours later, John wished Qhuinn would shut his damn piehole. Even though the locker room was loud from the sounds of metal doors banging shut and clothes flapping and shoes dropping, he felt like his buddy had a bullhorn stapled to his upper lip.

“You’re flippin’ huge, J.M. For real. Like…ginormous.”

That is not a word. John shoved his backpack in like he usually did and realized none of the clothes he was crushing would fit him anymore.

“The hell it isn’t. Back me up, Blay.”

Blay nodded as he pulled on his ji. “Yeah, you fill out? You’re going to be, like, Brother-sized.”

“Gigundous.”

Okay, also not a word, asshole.

“Fine, really, really, really big. How’s that?”

John shook his head as he put his books on the floor and deep-sixed the little duds in the nearest trash can. As he came back over, he sized up his friends and realized he was bigger than both of them by a good four inches. Hell, he was as tall as Z.

He glanced down the aisle at Lash. Yup, topped Lash, too.

The bastard looked over as he took his shirt off, as if sensing John’s stare. In a smooth move, the guy deliberately flexed his shoulders, the muscles curling up tight under his skin. He had a tattoo across his stomach that hadn’t been there two days before, a word in the Old Language John didn’t recognize.

“John, getcha ass out in the hall for a sec.”

The whole place went silent, and John jerked his head around. Zsadist was standing in the door to the locker room, all business.

“Shit,” Qhuinn whispered.

John put his backpack away, shut his locker, and tugged his shirt into place. He walked over to the Brother as quickly as he could manage, stepping around other guys as they pretended to keep doing what they were doing.

Z held the door wide as John went out into the hallway. After the thing was closed, he said, “Tonight, you and me are meeting before dawn, just like usual. We’re only going to skip the walking. You’ll come to the weight room while I lift. We need to talk.”

Shit was right. John signed, Same time?

“Four A.M. As for training tonight, I expect you to sit it out in the gym, but participate at the shooting range. Feel me?”

John inclined his head, then grabbed Z’s arm as the male turned away. Is it about last night?

“Yup.”

The Brother walked away, punching open the double doors to the gym. When the two halves shut they made a clanking sound.

Blaylock and Qhuinn came up behind John.

“What’s doing?” Blay asked.

I’m going to get shit for capping that lesser, John signed.

Blay pushed a hand into his red hair. “I should have covered for you better.”

Qhuinn shook his head. “John, we’ll take up for you, my man. I mean, it was my idea to go to the club.”

“And my gun.”

John crossed his arms over his chest. It’s going to be okay.

Or at least he hoped it would. He was on the thin edge of getting kicked out of the program as it stood.

“By the way…” Qhuinn put his hand on John’s shoulder. “Haven’t gotten a chance to thank you.”

Blay nodded. “Me neither. You were righteous last night. Totally righteous. You fucking saved us.”

“Shit, you totally knew what you were doing.”

John felt his face go red.

“Well, ain’t this cozy,” Lash drawled. “Tell me something, do you three draw straws to decide who’ll be on the bottom? Or is it always John?”

Qhuinn smiled, baring his fangs. “Has anyone ever shown you the difference between good touch and bad touch? ’Cause I’d love to demonstrate. We could start right now.”

John stepped