Searching for Home

by Megan Linden

  Table of Contents

  Books by Megan Linden

  Title Page

  Legal Page

  Book Description

  Trademark Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  Read more from Megan Linden

  More exciting books!

  About the Author

  Pride Publishing books by Megan Linden

  Harrington Hills

  Leading Me Home

  Building a Home

  Coming Back Home

  Redefining Home

  Harrington Hills

  SEARCHING FOR HOME

  MEGAN LINDEN

  Searching for Home

  ISBN # 978-1-78651-807-1

  ©Copyright Megan Linden 2019

  Cover Art by Cherith Vaughan ©Copyright August 2019

  Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz

  Pride Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Pride Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Pride Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2019 by Pride Publishing, United Kingdom.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorised copies.

  Pride Publishing is an imprint of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book”.

  Book five in the

  Harrington Hills series

  Two men who don’t quite fit in have a chance to find an anchor in an unusual place—each other.

  Patrick Donnelly was cast out from his pack after admitting to his father—his Alpha—that he is gay. Now he’s trying to start over in Harrington Hills, but he is struggling, not only with the new power balance but also with his own demons.

  Ollie Tomilson had gotten used to being the odd one out—a kid in the system, a lone human in the werewolf pack and a man who is always just temporarily visiting in a town where people put down deep roots.

  While Patrick and Ollie seem different in many ways, what unites them is that neither fits into the Harrington Hills mold. But maybe—just maybe—they can find what they are searching for in each other.

  Trademark Acknowledgements

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Skype: Skype Technologies Inc.

  Catch-22 : Joseph Heller

  Chapter One

  For a Saturday night, the club didn’t seem to be crowded, but Patrick reminded himself that he couldn’t compare a club in a small town like Linwood to the clubs he remembered from San Francisco. He should be happy he’d had no problem finding the empty seat at the side corner of the bar, away from the bigger and louder groups that seemed ready to party.

  Patrick wanted to take a break from his life. A few beers and a place where nobody knew him or looked at him too closely unless they wanted to hook up—that was his entire plan for the night.

  It had been two months since he’d arrived in Harrington Hills hoping for a new pack, a new place and a new beginning. And, for the most part, it was good. Patrick liked the area, he liked his house, and with Adrian, his best friend, deciding to stay in Hills as well, he also had someone already there, right from the start.

  He liked his new Alpha, too, even if she’d seen right through him when they’d first met.

  She’d known who he was as soon as he’d introduced himself, which—in hindsight—he should have expected. It was a part of the Alpha’s job to keep a close watch on any changes in other packs’ leadership structure, after all. He’d only been taken by surprise because he’d thought his father and former Alpha would try to keep what had happened under wraps for a while longer.

  It had probably been easy for her to guess why Patrick had left— been thrown out, but she probably didn’t know that, couldn’t be sure and he wasn’t telling—when he’d turned up halfway across the country wanting to join the most progressive pack in the States, one with a lesbian couple at the top of the food chain.

  She thankfully hadn’t asked too many questions, but he couldn’t say the same about the rest of the Harrington Pack. Wherever he went, he could feel people watching him. The looks had been wary at first, when all they’d known was that Patrick was the outsider who’d gotten into a beef with one of the senior pack members about an hour after arriving in town. But when the news had spread that he was staying in Hills for good, people had grown curious and locals had started to come up to him to learn more about who he was.

  That seemed like something that should have an easy answer, but it was anything but.

  He’d grown up as the Alpha’s Son, the next in line in the Donnelly Pack. He knew that life, knew how to have that role for the people in his pack. But now it wasn’t his role to play anymore. And it definitely wasn’t his role to play in this pack, either.

  Taylor Harrington was the rightful Alpha’s Son of Harrington Pack.

  Patrick took a big gulp of his beer to swallow down his initial reaction, the tension that burned in the back of his throat as his wolf chaffed inside him. His instincts hadn’t caught up yet, hadn’t adapted to his…change in circumstances. Having to defer to Taylor was a natural struggle.

  Suck it up, he told himself yet again. Taylor was nothing if not courteous toward him. Patrick figured that Alpha Harrington must have told her son who Patrick was, since Taylor had been giving him a wide berth, as much as possible without raising suspicion. With Patrick doing the same, they’d had almost no contact. That made the situation difficult for his wolf, who was struggling to accept the current situation, but it was better in general. At some point, Patrick would get used to Taylor just as he was getting used to everything else. He simply needed some time and, ideally, some space, too.

  That need for space was why he was in this particular bar tonight. Linwood was bigger than Harrington Hills and a perfect distance, too—close enough for Patrick to drive there and back for one evening but far enough to get a break from people he saw on a daily basis.

  He just had to stop thinking about them first.

  He took another gulp of beer and looked around the club. He seemed to be the only werewolf there right now. Most people were in
the room on the other side of the bar, where the music was louder and vibrating off the walls. He could see some of them going in and out, dancing or just moving to the music as they walked toward the bar for another drink. Patrick caught quite a few of them watching him, but no one held his interest for more than a second, enough for a once-over and a ’maybe later’ dismissal.

  It wasn’t like he didn’t want to have sex. It had been too damn long since he’d last gotten laid, and even a blow job in the back alley would be a nice change. But he hadn’t cared to make an effort so far. Sitting at the bar with his bottle seemed like a good enough plan for the evening.

  Then the kitchen door a few feet from his stool slammed open and in walked a man with a mop of curly hair and a grin wide enough to split his face in half. A tight T-shirt stretched over his shoulders, but Patrick’s attention was drawn to his forearms and hands with long fingers that made the blood in Patrick’s veins pump faster. Fuck. He was ready to make that effort now.

  But the man wasn’t even looking in his direction.

  “Rejoice, my friends. Ollie is here!” he shouted as he slipped below the bar and came up on the other side where the red-haired bartender caught him in a quick hug.

  “Thank fuck you are,” the barman told the new arrival—Ollie—before taking off the black apron from around his waist and grabbing his backpack from under the bar. “Catch up with you later, okay?”

  “Sure, sure…go.” Ollie clapped him on the back with a nod. “See you tomorrow.”

  Patrick didn’t care about the guy who was leaving, since he was too busy watching the newcomer. Ollie turned his back to him and greeted the bartender on the other end of the bar as he put on his own apron to cover his tight black jeans. He took off the elastic band from around his wrist and put it on his head, tugging his hair away from his face.

  Patrick wanted to lick and suck the uncovered skin of Ollie’s wrist.

  He finished his beer instead.

  A moment later, as if he had some kind of bartender-radar for a client who had finished his drink, Ollie turned to him, eyes widening as their gazes met. The smile that followed after a few seconds was coy, but his initial reaction was strong enough for Patrick to pick up in a bar full of other scents.

  The man wanted Patrick right back.

  “Hi, there,” Ollie said, wandering closer. He rested his hands on his side of the bar, and while he didn’t lean in too far, he still managed to somehow narrow the space between them. “Can I get you another round of this, or…?” The pause and the question could have been innocent, but the way Ollie’s gaze dropped to Patrick’s lips definitely wasn’t.

  “Another beer’s fine…for now.”

  He watched a corner of Ollie’s mouth arch into a lazy smile, and fuck if Patrick’s body didn’t respond to that like a starving man to a delicious meal. Maybe the recent celibacy had bothered him more than he’d thought after all, if a simple smile—no matter how hot—could make him feel like this.

  “Very well,” Ollie said, pushing back on his hands and taking a step back. “One beer, coming up. And if you need anything else, I’m here all night long.”

  Patrick gave him a smile of his own, and from the looks of it, Ollie really liked it. “Great. I’m in no hurry.”

  Ollie turned to presumably grab him that next beer and Patrick’s gaze fell to the man’s ass.

  Oh yeah. He had no better place to be tonight.

  * * * *

  Patrick snorted and shook his head. “I would kill someone if I had to spend five months on a ship.”

  “It’s not so bad,” Ollie said as he dried yet another glass with a cloth. Patrick told himself not to read too much into it, but the man was polishing all those glasses to perfection right in front of him and had carried on a conversation on and off for most of the evening. Sure, he left when there was a bigger influx of clients, but he always gravitated back toward Patrick. “Being a bartender and a waiter is the same everywhere. And on a cruise, you get to leave when the ship is in port, so I saw a lot of cool places I wouldn’t have otherwise. Also, sometimes, when they aren’t sold out, you get a sweet cabin all to yourself.”

  “That does sound nice,” Patrick admitted, taking another sip of his beer. He’d used to want to travel more, back in college when he was picturing himself talking to locals in their mother language, but it had never panned out.

  That’s not the only thing about your life that didn’t pan out.

  Patrick grimaced. That voice in his head sounded too much like his father.

  “Judging from your face, not really that nice,” Ollie told him, pulling him back to the present.

  “No, that’s— Never mind.” Patrick shook his head. “The travel part would be nice, the crowd in a small confined space—not so much.”

  Ollie shrugged, putting another glass down and glancing back to see how the other bartender was doing. “It’s not for everybody, but it works for me—for a few months, at least. Then I need to spend some time inland, like right now. Alternating stuff definitely helps.”

  Patrick had uprooted his life exactly twice, including when he’d gone away for college, and he was still reeling from the second move. He couldn’t imagine doing it over and over, even if he could see the upside, too.

  “So you’re spending that downtime here?” he asked, wondering how one went from working on a ship sailing around the Caribbean Islands to a small bar in Linwood, but he didn’t want to ask outright. The conversation was nice and easy, but they both—perhaps on purpose, perhaps not—had sidestepped any real details about their lives.

  “I’m just here for the weekend, visiting a friend and helping out,” Ollie told him. “I’m on my way to spend some time with my family.”

  Not a local, then. There was a short jolt of disappointment somewhere in the depths of his stomach, but mostly, Patrick was relieved. He didn’t need any more complications in his life right now.

  Chapter Two

  Ollie thanked his lucky stars that he’d agreed to come and help Trevor out on his way back to Hills, since now he had a hot-like-burning werewolf putting his hands under his T-shirt as he was trying to open the door to Trevor’s apartment above the bar. Trevor wouldn’t be back until tomorrow afternoon and he’d told Ollie to make himself at home, so…

  “Fuck,” he let out as Patrick slipped his fingers right above his hips where Ollie was particularly sensitive once aroused.

  “Sure…if you want,” Patrick told him in a low voice before grazing the shell of Ollie’s ear with his teeth and inhaling loudly.

  If Ollie had had any doubt the man was a werewolf, the amount of sniffing would had taken care of that really fast.

  “What I want is to get you on a bed,” Ollie told him, finally opening the door.

  They walked in with Patrick practically glued to his back and, after making sure the door was locked, Ollie turned to face him. He slipped his hands up to Patrick’s neck and brought him closer for a kiss.

  And damn, the man knew how to kiss.

  There was no hesitation, no uncertainty. The brush of their lips was electric and Ollie felt it in his goddamn toes. He slipped his tongue into Patrick’s mouth and was rewarded with a low growl. A moment later, he was pressed against the door by approximately two hundred pounds of hot and demanding werewolf. Their kiss turned the heat up a few degrees and when Patrick moved to drag his mouth along his jaw, Ollie’s knees turned to jelly. He clasped his fingers on Patrick’s shoulders to keep upright but tilted his head back in silent invitation.

  The growl he received now was even louder and Ollie couldn’t stop a grin. Oh yeah, he knew a trick or two when it came to seducing a wolf.

  He hissed at a dual shot of pleasure and pain when Patrick’s teeth grazed his already-sensitive skin, but when Patrick moved to pull away, Ollie tightened his grip on his shoulders.

  “Don’t stop,” he said, dragging his nails behind Patrick’s ears. The man shivered at the caress and sucked harder, probably leaving ano
ther mark right next to the previous one that was burning hot and pulsing to the tune of Ollie’s rapid heartbeat.

  His hips moved without his conscious thought, pushing up and aligning their cocks to slide against each other through the layers of clothes. He swallowed a moan and rolled his hips again, chasing the sensation.

  Then Patrick had his hands on his hips, picking him up, and Ollie wrapped his legs around Patrick’s waist with a choked-off moan he couldn’t stop this time.

  Because the best thing about having sex with a werewolf was how much stronger they were, how easily they could manhandle him. And right now, Ollie wanted to be manhandled straight to bed.

  “Bedroom’s to your left,” he muttered, out of breath, trailing his lips along Patrick’s jawline.

  Patrick didn’t seem to need more encouragement than that. Less than a minute later, he was throwing Ollie down onto the bed and following after him, covering Ollie’s body with his own to, apparently, kiss him stupid then follow that up with an absolutely sinful roll of his hips.

  “Fuck,” Ollie breathed out.

  “Is that what you want?” Patrick asked as he leaned on his elbow and sneaked one of his hands under Ollie’s T-shirt.

  “Yeah,” Ollie whispered, not looking away from the brown eyes that were turning darker by the second. “You?”

  He got a nod in reply, then Patrick’s grip on his hip tightened almost painfully before he backed away and rolled to the side and onto his feet faster than Ollie could blink.

  He opened his mouth to ask what had happened, but Patrick tugged his shirt off, presenting incredible abs and chest— damn, even for a werewolf, he’s ridiculously fit —and all words got lost in Ollie’s throat.

  Then he sprang into action as well, sitting up and pulling off his T-shirt. He knew he wouldn’t match Patrick in looks, but the man had known Ollie was a human when he’d come here with him, so that meant he didn’t mind.