Hagen, Lynn - Tater's Bear [Brac Pack 22] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove)

by Lynn Hagen

  Olsen took one last look at his retreating mate before climbing behind the wheel. Tater was back on the road, heading toward his house with the vampire. At least his mate was headed home. He started the truck and turned it around, heading toward Maverick’s.

  It didn’t take them long to get there. Olsen pulled into the gravel drive of Maverick Brac’s home. “It’s kinda late. Are you sure he’s expecting you?”

  Sloane shook his head. “I didn’t know how to get in touch with him.”

  Olsen gaped at Sloane. “So you just decided to show up in the middle of the night. Are you nuts?”

  No sooner did the words leave his lips than four very large wolves surrounded his truck. Olsen wasn’t sure what he should do. Even in his bear form there was no way he could take on four timber wolves. He didn’t know the Brac pack that well for them to recognize him.

  “I take it that was a bad judgment call?” Sloane asked as the wolves began to growl menacingly.

  “Ya think?” Olsen scowled as he let his window down slightly. One of the large wolves jumped up, his massive paws resting against the driver’s door. His night seemed to be going to shit quickly.

  “I’m Olsen Lakeland. This here is Sloane. He came to ask permission to join your pack,” Olsen stated and then held his breath. One of the wolves shifted, glaring at both of them.

  “And it seemed appropriate to come calling in the middle of the fucking night with our mates sleeping behind those walls?” The wolf pointed toward the house. “If I didn’t know the name Lakeland, I’d kill you both just for your stupidity.”

  Yeah, Olsen was thinking the same exact thing and was grateful the wolf was showing restraint. What could he say to that? The wolf had a valid point. He reached over and cuffed Sloane in the back of his head. “Thanks for getting me in the middle of this shit.” He didn’t care if he just met the guy. Sloane had that one coming to him.

  Sloane growled but made no move to defend himself. Instead he let his window down a fraction and called over to another wolf. “My name is Sloane, Sloane Brac.”

  Olsen snapped his head around to look at the wolf sitting next to him. “Brac? Are you any relation to Maverick?”

  “Cousin.” The guy smirked.

  Olsen had to fist his hands because he wanted to knock the smirk right off of the man’s face. He wasn’t sure what game Sloane was playing at, but he didn’t like being used—and the guy had used him like a cheap whore on a Saturday night.

  “Wait right here,” the wolf that had shifted said between clenched teeth. Olsen wasn’t stupid enough, or crazy enough, to disobey.

  A few minutes later, Maverick Brac’s tall and menacing form loped out of the front door, the shifted wolf, now clothed, trailing closely behind him.

  Maverick did not look happy.

  Olsen wanted to kick Sloane out of his truck and take off before the alpha reached them. Having someone that massive and deadly-looking heading his way made Olsen rethink the whole help a shifter out philosophy.

  “I don’t remember him being that fucking huge,” Sloane said in awe from beside him.

  “Maybe if you had come during normal calling hours, he may not have been.” Olsen wasn’t sure what the hell he was saying, but the closer Maverick came, the less he liked Sloane.

  “Who claims the Brac name?” Maverick growled as he approached the truck.

  Olsen pointed at Sloane, not wanting Maverick’s anger directed at him. He had met Maverick before, but in the dead of night, mistakes could be made.

  “Sloane?” Maverick said as he bent his ginormous form down slightly to see who was inside the truck. “Tell me that’s not you.”

  Sloane gave a slight nod.

  “Kill him,” Maverick said as he turned his back on them and headed for the house.

  “Whoa, wait,” Sloane shouted as he was pulled from the truck by the wolves who had shifted into their human forms. “I can explain.”

  Olsen could hear the panic in Sloane’s voice. Hell, he was panicking and the order was for the wolf to be killed.

  Maverick turned, his canines gleaming in the light of the moon as his eyes shifted to an eerie crimson. “Explain then. Explain to me how you turned your back on me when I came out. Explain to me why you allowed half of the pack to turn against me, because I’d really love to hear the fucking excuse you have for your betrayal.”

  “I didn’t betray you!” Sloane shouted from the other side of Olsen’s truck. “I swear. Do you remember Haggard?”

  Olsen didn’t think Maverick’s growl could have gotten any deeper, but it did. “What about him?”

  “He’s the one who betrayed you. Call your dad and ask him. I tried to hunt for you, but you had left by then.”

  Maverick took a step toward Sloane, deadliness coming off of the alpha in waves. “I haven’t spoken to my father in years, but he would have never held something like that a secret.”

  “He would have if it involved his sister.”

  Maverick looked taken aback. “What does Aunt Jasmine have to do with this?”

  “Do you want me to kill him now and save us all the headache?” one of the wolves asked.

  Maverick shook his head. “No, Tryck. Bring him inside. He seems to have answers to questions I never knew existed.”

  Tryck snorted. “Family will fuck you over if you let them into your home.”

  Maverick’s brows pulled together as he looked over at Tryck. “You have two brothers under our roof.”

  Tryck shrugged. “Semantics.”

  Olsen was confused as hell but wasn’t going to say a fucking word. As long as he wasn’t the one in the hot seat, he wasn’t going to interfere.

  Maverick turned and looked at him, his crimson eyes spooky as fuck. “Go home, Olsen.”

  He didn’t have to be told twice. Olsen nodded toward Maverick and then put his truck in reverse, getting the hell out of there.

  Chapter Three

  Chauncey put a foot on the bottom step leading to the second floor but stopped as he looked around the banister and into the living room. There was no way he was seeing a vampire. “Who’s the bloodsucker?” he called into the living room.

  “Chauncey!” his pa chastised him. “Use your damn manners.”

  Chauncey removed his foot from the bottom step and headed into the living room. It seemed like his entire family was sitting there, minus Olsen. Why wasn’t he invited to their secret meeting? Chauncey had just woken from his sleep to get some sweets, and here his family was having some sort of powwow. “Okay, who’s the vein drainer then?”

  His pa exhaled loudly as he pointed to a chair on the opposite side of the room. “You can sit over there since your manners still seem to be upstairs.”

  Chauncey walked into the living room and took a seat, staring at Tater, who was sitting next to the vampire. He was confused as hell about what was going on. Olsen’s mate should not be sitting next to an undead. “Where’s Olsen?”

  “He’s at Maverick’s. He’ll be back shortly,” Chance said with a grin on his face. “And I for one ain’t moving until I watch him try to kill Count Dracula over there.”

  “Get out,” Pa said to the entire room. “All of you boys, go to bed since I can’t get you to behave.”

  Chauncey watched the youngest, Roman, grab his mate and head upstairs. Gavin and his mate, Alex, went next. Chauncey didn’t move a muscle. He agreed with his twin, Chance. He wanted front-row seats to witness Olsen’s anger.

  “Boys,” Pa warned. When neither of them moved, his pa pulled up to his full height. “Now.”

  Instead of going upstairs, Chauncey walked over and pushed the front door open and headed outside. He sat on the front steps, listening as the first of the morning birds started tweeting out their melodies. His brother Olsen’s truck pulled into the drive just then, making its way up to the house.

  Chauncey stood and walked over to Olsen’s truck as his brother parked it. “Ya got company.” He felt his brother should have a little warning bef
ore he walked into the house.

  Olsen’s brows pulled together as he got out of the truck and slammed the door. “Who?”

  “Tater and some vampire.”

  Olsen quickened his steps at the news. “Is Tater okay?”

  “Seemed fine to me,” Chauncey said as he reseated himself on the front steps.

  This was going to be a long day.

  Tater could hear Olsen outside with Chauncey. His nerves coiled tight when he heard the squeak of the screen door being opened. Maybe he was a little hasty in deciding to come here. It had seemed logical at the time.

  “What’s going on?” Olsen asked as he stepped into the living room. His light gray eyes scanned Tater as if looking for any wounds.

  “I’ll leave you boys to talk,” Olsen’s father said as he waved a hand at D. “Come on, D, let’s go get some coffee.”

  “I…uh…don’t drink coffee, sir,” D said as he followed Olsen’s father out of the room.

  “Then it’s high time you start.”

  Tater watched their retreating backs, unsure of what to do. Olsen crossed the room and took a seat next to him, sitting just as stiffly as Tater was. “Did something happen?”

  Tater shook his head. “No. I just didn’t feel like going home.” He felt like a total ass. After the words he had shoved at Olsen back in that field, Tater wouldn’t be surprised if Olsen told him to get out. He hadn’t been very friendly. Tater had just panicked with Olsen being so close, but he felt it best to keep that bit of information to himself until he could figure his feeling out.

  “You know you’re always welcome to stay here,” Olsen said as he seemed to relax a degree.

  Now Tater did feel like shit. Olsen was being nice, even after he told him to fuck off. Tater scratched his chin, wondering what to say to the handsome man. He was never one for polite conversation. “Thanks.”

  “We have a spare bedroom upstairs,” Olsen said as he pointed at the ceiling. “But I think your friend will need it.”

  Tater nodded numbly. Was Olsen inviting him to his bed? His heart began to pound heavily behind his ribs as Tater’s mouth went dry. He wanted to reply, to give Olsen an answer. He just wasn’t sure the words would make it past his dry throat.

  “Then let’s get you settled in.” Olsen stood, reaching a hand out to Tater. He ignored it and sidestepped Olsen.

  “Maybe I should go home.”

  Olsen turned, his eyes assessing Tater. “But I thought you just said you didn’t want to go home?”

  This was why Tater didn’t like commitments and relationships. He was nervous as hell and felt trapped. If Olsen had said let’s fuck and nothing more, Tater would have been all over it. But he knew better. Olsen was a forever kind of guy. The man screamed commitment.

  “I…” Tater wasn’t sure what his brain was trying to force his mouth to say, so he headed for the door.

  “Tater, wait.” Olsen reached out and grabbed his arm. “Just sleep?”

  Tater stopped.

  He wanted to agree.

  There were so many things that he did want but wasn’t sure how to ask for them. Everything was coming at him all at once, and Tater felt itchy, like his entire body was breaking out in hives or something. He didn’t say a word when Olsen grabbed his hand and led him toward the steps.

  The stairs creaked as he trailed behind the handsome man. Tater’s eyes locked onto Olsen’s nice backside. He wondered if a coin would bounce off of the tight muscles. Visions of nipping Olsen’s perfect backside had Tater getting rock hard. He wanted to reach out and touch that nicely rounded ass.

  “In here.” Olsen pointed to a bedroom door and then opened it.

  Tater stepped through, his eyes immediately zeroing in on the large bed centered in the middle of the room. He saw everything that was going on here, but was helpless to stop it. Did he really want to? Tater wasn’t sure. He became less sure as Olsen released his hand and began to undress.

  He wasn’t a little guy, but next to Olsen, Tater felt puny as hell. The man was large, muscular, and Olsen had fine, black hair sprinkling his body. Yeah, Tater wanted some of that. Maybe afterward he could make an excuse so he could leave, but for now, Tater wanted.

  “If you keep looking at me like that, it will be more than just sleep going on in here.” Olsen smiled as he warned Tater, shucking his jeans.

  That was exactly what Tater was hoping for. It had been ages since he’d had sex, and the sight of the handsome bear was wreaking havoc on his own body. Tater could feel his cock hardening as he watched Olsen shed his clothes. His eyes drank in the large, sinewy muscles that were exposed. Only a blind fool wouldn’t be able to see the nice, well-developed back that screamed to be touched.

  Damn, the man was simply delicious.

  Tater slid his hands into his back pockets as he looked to his left, pretending he wasn’t watching Olsen when the man turned around. He could feel his eyes pulling to look, but Tater knew if he did, he would drool.

  “Are you going to sleep fully clothed?” Olsen asked with a bit of a dare in his voice. Was it Tater’s imagination, or had Olsen’s voice dipped lower?

  Tater didn’t immediately answer. He wasn’t sure what to say. Sex was on the menu, of that Tater had no doubt, but to openly discuss it? Was Olsen crazy? He glanced at his well-worn boots, wondering if he could just excuse himself and head home. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

  “Hey.” Olsen walked over and lifted Tater’s chin with the knuckle of his hand. The only thing Tater could see was nicely exposed biceps and pecs. He could feel his body humming as he licked his lips. “You don’t have to do a damn thing that makes you uncomfortable. I promise.”

  Tater rolled his eyes. As if the man could force him. Olsen was a few inches taller and more heavily muscled than Tater, but he sure as shit could give the bear a run for his money. “I know that.”

  Olsen stood there studying Tater for a moment before nodding. “Good. Don’t ever think you’re not safe around me.”

  Again, his eyes rolled. Did Olsen see him as a helpless twit? His lip curled back as he slapped his hands onto his hips. “I can handle my own.”

  Olsen grabbed Tater’s upper arms, forcing him to look up. “Sometimes being safe isn’t always a physical thing, Tater.”

  Tater could feel his body tremble in rage. Olsen was talking about Tater’s heart, and it was more than he could deal with at the moment. “Let me go.”

  Olsen removed his hand, holding it up as he took a step back. “You know, I don’t get you. I come after you, and you back away. I back away, and you come after me. Let’s cut the dance and get to the point. What are you so afraid of?”

  Tater clenched his jaw as Olsen hit the million-dollar question on the head. His lips fixed to say the word commitment, but Tater refused to allow the single word to pass. He knew that if he told Olsen the truth, the bear would only try to reassure him that he had nothing to be afraid of. Olsen wouldn’t understand his fear and brush it aside in his attempt to get closer to him.

  If it were that easy, Tater would have committed to Olsen on the spot. Too bad it wasn’t. “Nothing. I’m not afraid of a fucking thing. This was a mistake. I should go home.”

  To his surprise, Olsen didn’t try to stop him. Tater wasn’t sure if he wanted the man to or not. His emotions were conflicting, and his gut was twisted into a knot. He wasn’t sure if he was coming or going. But Tater knew one thing for sure. He needed to get as far away from Olsen as possible.

  He needed to think without a gorgeous bear of a distraction standing in front of him.

  “Do you need a ride?”

  Olsen was giving Tater what he wanted. Letting him walk out without a protest. So why did he get so damned pissed when Olsen asked him that question?

  “No.” Tater turned on his heel and stormed out of the bedroom. The sun was rising higher into the morning sky, so his walk should be less harrowing than it had been last night. He couldn’t believe he had gone over twenty-four hours without
sleep. Maybe that was his problem. Lack of sleep could make a person irritable as hell.

  “It’s a long way from here to your house,” Olsen reminded him with a bit of humor in his tone as he followed behind Tater down the steps.

  “I walked it last night. I’m sure I can handle doing it again.” Tater wavered for a split second. He was torn between staying and leaving. He knew Olsen wanted more than a roll in the sack. The bear wanted a commitment, and that was Tater’s deciding factor. “Bye.”

  He thought about D in the guestroom, but it was daylight out and there was nothing he could do about it at the moment. Besides, Tater knew the vampire was in good hands.

  Too bad his own brain wouldn’t process that knowledge about Olsen.

  Tater was quickly rethinking his dumb ass idea of walking home. He was so tired that he wanted to lie down on the side of the road and sleep. The black asphalt was looking mighty good right about now.

  After what felt like a thousand years, Tater finally turned down his dirt drive and headed toward his house. His entire body felt like one big, sore ass muscle. His legs felt weak enough to give out. Tater wiped his hand down his face as he climbed the porch steps.

  Having plenty of time to think on his long walk home, Tater realized that he hadn’t wanted to leave. He was too afraid to voice his fears and wanted Olsen to take charge, make him stay, and make him commit.

  Tater knew that wasn’t how Olsen would handle the situation. The bear would always give him choices. Tater had had an epiphany on his long walk. The realization scared him, but he allowed the truth to surface.

  Tater wanted Olsen to control him.

  He walked the creaking staircase as he made his way to his bedroom. His bones actually hurt from lack of sleep and walking the long distance. All Tater wanted to do was sleep. First he needed to shower though. The two-day grime was making his skin itch.

  Tater indulged in a long, hot shower as he prayed the pounding spray helped to relax his muscles. He lifted his head, allowing the stream of water to run down his face and over his hair. He wondered how he was going to tell Olsen what he truly wanted. Hell, he couldn’t even find the courage to voice his fear. How was he going to voice his desire?