by Lynn Hagen
“Tater, stop taking all the hot water,” his mother called from just outside the door.
Fuck. He needed to find his own place. This was ridiculous. He had no privacy here, and it was driving him crazy. The problem was, Tater needed to find a job first. He’d always been a drifter. Drifting from one thing to the next, never committing to anything or one job. Tater was beginning to think something was seriously wrong with him.
“Tater!”
Tater sighed as he cut the water off. He couldn’t even find solace in his own damn bathroom. Grabbing a towel, Tater dried off as he wondered if he’d ever find his way in life.
“Have you tried talking to him?” Pa asked as he sat down in one of the chairs in the living room.
“I have. He seems so out of reach. I’m not sure how to handle this situation,” Olsen confessed.
His pa rubbed his chin as he looked to be considering Olsen’s words. He leaned forward, laying his arms on his powerful thighs. It still amazed Olsen sometimes how strong his father truly was. Every last one of the boys thought for sure that his pa was going to shrivel up and die when their mother had passed away. His father had fooled them all. He was still as strong and commanding as he had been when Olsen was a cub.
“You ever think that maybe this is all a little overwhelming for the young man? He hadn’t a clue shifters existed until we told him. Some men need time to absorb something like that.”
Olsen sat on the edge of the couch, mulling over his pa’s words. “You think that’s it? That he just needs time to adjust to the news of were-creatures and vampires existing?” Could it be that simple? He thought that he was going to lose his mind this morning when Tater had waltzed right out of Olsen’s house. He worried himself sick that something bad would happen to his mate, but he knew Tater would have thrown a fit if he’d gone after him.
“Don’t take my word for it. It could be something entirely different, son. I can see the hunger in his eyes when he looks at you. My question to you is, what kind of hunger is he craving?”
Olsen wasn’t sure what in the hell his pa was talking about. What did he mean what kind of hunger was he craving? That didn’t make any sense to him.
“Don’t forget we’re having a cookout this weekend. Invite your mate. Make him feel at home here.”
Olsen nodded absently as he headed out of the living room and into the kitchen. He pushed the kitchen door open and walked toward the corral, turning his pa’s words over in his mind. No matter what angle he looked at it from, his pa’s words still didn’t make any sense to him.
Olsen had been chasing after Tater for weeks now, his mate not giving him an inch. Olsen began to wonder if his relationship with the strong man was already doomed from the start.
Maybe fate didn’t always get it right.
Alex sat at the top of the steps and listened to Olsen and Pa. He knew listening in was wrong, but he hated to see any of the Lakelands sad. His mate, Gavin, had shown him what a true family had to offer, and Alex wanted his cousin Tater to feel it, too.
He knew Tater’s problem. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. Okay, maybe it would, considering Olsen was clueless. Alex saw the need, the hunger in Tater to be dominated.
Now all his cousin needed was for the bear to see it as well. Somehow Alex had a feeling Olsen was going to need an anvil dropped on his head before he bought a clue.
Chapter Four
Maverick threw his feet up onto his desk as he looked at his cousin. It didn’t seem real that Sloane was here. How long had it been since he last saw the fucker? Two hundred years, maybe more?
“Talk,” he commanded as he rested his chin on his chest, his fingers entwined and resting on his stomach as he listened closely.
“It was Haggard. I swear. Do you think I’m crazy enough to betray you? Even in your youth you were the largest timber wolf alive.”
Maverick gave a soft snort as he studied his hands. “Flattery will get you killed. I want the truth, and don’t get sidetracked. My patience has gone to shit since I’ve gotten older. My family members are the only beings that have my patience. You do not.”
“But I’m your family,” Sloane pointed out indignantly.
Maverick was on his feet and across his desk in under a second, grabbing Sloane by the front of his shirt and lifting him out of his chair and across his desk. “I don’t have time for this. Talk.”
“Do you remember the great oak tree?”
Maverick nodded. He remembered it well.
“I got in trouble with Ma, so I was hiding out in the branches of the oak tree when Haggard and Aunt Jasmine walked up. They were acting all crazy-like, looking around like they expected someone to jump out at them at any moment.”
Maverick growled and slammed Sloane into the wall. “What in the hell does this have to do with you betraying me?”
“I’m getting to that,” Sloane squeaked. “I swear.”
“Get to it faster.”
“On–once they stopped looking around, they started talking. Well, Aunt Jasmine started talking. Haggard just kind of stood there with drool rolling down his face.”
Maverick’s eyebrows shot up. “Haggard and Aunt Jasmine? Seriously? I thought Aunt Jasmine couldn’t stand Haggard.”
“Well, apparently, she hated you more.”
“Me?” Maverick’s eyebrows drew together in a deep, thoughtful frown as he remembered back to when he lived with his birth pack. It might have been over two hundred years ago, but he didn’t think he’d ever forget having to fend off his aunt’s sexual advances. It was one of the things that made him appreciate being with men more.
“She started making promises to Haggard,” Sloane continued. “If he got rid of you, then she would agree to mate with him and rule the pack at his side when your father stepped down. With you gone, Haggard had a better chance at being next in line for alpha.”
Olsen chewed his lower lip as he stared at Tater’s house from his truck that was hidden behind a nearby tree. He wasn’t sure if he should bother his mate, but he missed him. He wasn’t so lost in his manhood that he couldn’t admit that. He missed Tater’s delicious scent, his beautiful green eyes, and he missed the way his mate’s nostrils flared when he was pissed.
Olsen was so damn screwed.
He stood up straighter when he saw Tater come from the back of the house, his arms animatedly flailing around. A low growl escaped Olsen’s lips until he saw Tater’s dad come around the side of the house a few seconds later.
He got out of his truck, creeping along the tree-lined yard as he attempted to get close enough to find out what the hell was going on. He hated that his mate didn’t have a stable home life. Olsen wasn’t sure what he would have done if his family was as dysfunctional as Tater’s seemed to be. His brothers were overbearing, nutty as fruitcakes, and immature as hell, but he loved them and would kill a rock over them.
“I don’t care, Dad. It’s none of your business.”
Tater’s father bristled, his face pulling back into a mask of rage. “It is my business when you have men coming to my house to see you. I know for a fact that they’re not just friends. Don’t lie to me, Tater. Are you gay?”
Olsen’s heart beat out of his chest at Tater’s dad’s words. What men? Did Tater have boyfriends coming to his house? Did Tater have boyfriends? Olsen was ready to rip something apart as his anger escalated. He tried his best to tamp down his anger. Tater’s dad had asked a serious question, and this was a monumental moment in his mate’s life.
But still. Boyfriends?
“For the hundredth time, my sex life is none of your business. I don’t ask about you and Mom.”
Okay, that was just gross.
“Ask away, son. I have sex with a woman. Do you?”
“Ew. I didn’t want to know that.” Tater’s entire body shivered. Olsen wanted to chuckle. His mate was so damn dramatic.
“Don’t try and sidetrack me. Answer my question, Hubert.”
Hubert?
/> “Don’t call me that! I swear I would love to know if Mom was still medicated from giving birth to me when she named me.”
Tater’s father growled. Olsen rolled his eyes. It sounded weak and pathetic coming from a human. A cub sounded more ferocious than Tater’s father.
“Answer me.”
Tater gave his father a challenging look before a contemptuous smile crossed his face. “Yes, Dad. I’m gay.”
“Pack. Your. Bags,” his father bit out between clenched teeth. His face turned an angry shade of red as he spoke low and menacingly. “You have ten minutes to get what you can and get off of my property before I get my shotgun.”
Olsen wanted to leave the hiding place of the trees and defend his mate, but he knew if he showed his face, Tater wouldn’t even have the ten minutes he’d been granted to gather his belongings. Olsen’s bear was roaring at the injustice his mate had been handed. His fingers curled around the branch as he fought the shift.
“Fine,” Tater said angrily as he stormed into the house.
Olsen waited.
He was going to make sure Tater made it safely away before he approached his mate. He would hate to have to kill his mate’s father for acting stupidly.
Olsen saw a light come on in a window on the second floor. He kept his eyes on Tater’s father though. He cocked his head to the side when he saw Tater’s father wipe at his eyes. He wasn’t sure what that was about, but he held no sympathy for the man. He could have easily accepted his son’s choice.
He didn’t have to turn his back on his only child and kick him out.
Olsen moved back and faded into the darkness as Tater emerged from the house. He slowly made his way back to his truck that he had left on the side of the road, keeping his eyes on his mate and Tater’s father. Once he reached the end of the drive, he walked out of the woods.
Tater came to a halt, pain and humiliation flashing in his eyes before he cast them downward. “See it all?”
“Enough,” Olsen said as he took a step closer. He reached out, taking a bag from Tater’s hand. Tater was resistant at first, reluctant to let the bag go. His fingers finally uncurled from around the straps, allowing Olsen to take it.
“Let’s go home.”
Tater shook his head as he walked over to Olsen’s truck. “Take me to Maverick’s, please.”
Olsen would be a liar if he didn’t admit to himself that he was downright pissed and hurt at his mate’s decision. He couldn’t honestly understand Tater and his reasoning. No matter what angle he looked at it from, Tater perplexed him and was testing his patience.
“What’s wrong with coming home with me?”
Tater stopped walking toward Olsen’s truck, his bags hanging off of his well-defined muscular shoulders as he eyed Olsen. “Because I’d rather go to Maverick’s. Since that seems to be a problem, I’ll walk.”
Olsen rolled his shoulders, praying he didn’t take his mate into the field a mile down the road and teach him a lesson on his snapping attitude. “Get in the truck.”
“Look. I don’t need—”
“Now!” Olsen felt his patience slipping. Enough was enough. Fine, if his mate didn’t want to come home with him, he’d at least take him to Maverick’s. Olsen knew Tater would be safe there. But his funky ass attitude had to go.
Tater glared at Olsen for a moment. He could tell his mate was wavering on what he should do. Finally Tater walked to the back of Olsen’s truck and threw his things into the bed. Olsen sighed as Tater got into the truck and slammed the door. He was getting a major migraine dealing with his willful mate.
Olsen climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door, wincing when he realized what he had just done. This was so not going the way he had thought it would when he left the house. He thought Tater just needed a little coaxing to be reassured that Olsen would never hurt him in his human or bear form. Fuck a stick, he had no clue Tater had a tree stuck up his ass.
They drove in silence down the back road. Olsen stole quick glances at his mate, the lit-up dashboard illuminating Tater’s face, giving it an ethereal look. His fingers itched to reach over and pull Tater into his arms. He was tired of the fighting, the arguing, and the resistance.
Olsen just wanted his mate.
A whole slew of words crossed through his mind, but Olsen didn’t think any of them would work against his prickly mate. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Tater he was sorry, and Olsen had no clue what he’d be apologizing for.
He palmed the wheel, turning onto the gravel drive that led to Maverick’s home and finding an open space to park his truck. Olsen felt like he should say something, but he held back. His mate was about to walk away from him, and Olsen couldn’t think of anything to say to stop him.
Tater slid his seat belt off and opened the truck door before Olsen had the damn truck parked. If that wasn’t telling him something, then he was blind.
Tater didn’t want him.
Olsen climbed out of the truck, grabbing a few bags and walking his mate quietly to front door. He waited as Tater rang the bell. Olsen noticed a camera whiz around, pointing directly at him. He looked down at his hands, at Tater’s belongings, as he waited for someone to answer the door.
His mind was screaming to stop Tater. To demand that he come home with Olsen and stop this nonsense. Olsen studied his mate’s profile as Tater looked straight ahead. He really was a handsome man. He felt the longing in his chest to touch anything on Tater.
Olsen’s head snapped around when the front door opened. A man with silver hair eyed them both. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Tater, Taylor’s friend,” Tater answered. Olsen noticed how Tater omitted his introduction. He mentally sighed.
“And you?” the silver-haired man asked.
“I’m Olsen Lakeland.” He stretched his arm out.
“Loco,” the man said as he shook Olsen’s hand. “I know about the Lakelands. Come on in.”
Olsen hovered his hand at the small of Tater’s back as they entered the house, walking into a large foyer. Olsen cocked a brow when a small child ran up to him and hugged his legs before taking off again.
“Don’t mind Maddox. He’s a cub that thinks he rules the pack.” Loco chuckled. “Don’t tell anyone, but he does.”
Olsen stepped closer to Tater when Maverick appeared from around a corner, his expression curious as he looked from Olsen to Tater and then down at his mate’s bags.
“I take it I’m having a houseguest?” he asked Olsen.
“If you don’t mind, sir,” Tater answered.
Olsen let a low growl leave his lips as his mate gave the alpha the honorific he hadn’t even received. He wanted to lash out. It took every ounce of restraint to keep his bear from emerging and claiming what was his. He didn’t like all of these males around his mate.
It wasn’t kosher, and Olsen was five seconds away from shifting.
“Can I talk to you outside?” Maverick asked Olsen and then turned to Tater. “Loco will show you a room.”
Olsen watched helplessly as Tater walked away from him. His canines punched through his gums as he growled.
“Outside, now,” Maverick commanded.
Olsen gave his mate one last glance before following the alpha outside. He paced the front yard as he tried his best to calm his bear. Now that Tater was out of his sight, he didn’t like the idea of his mate being here when he should be at home with Olsen.
“Shift,” Maverick commanded.
Olsen shifted, roaring as he charged the alpha and then stopped at the last second. He was giving warning, and the alpha knew it. He roared again when a few timber wolves emerged from different directions, growling as they approached him.
“Stay back,” Maverick said as he held his hand up. “Olsen’s mate is inside, and he feels like his claim is being threatened.”
Olsen was surprised Maverick knew what was going on with him. He roared again, scratching his paws against the grass. The alpha knelt in front of Olsen.
Olsen grunted as he backed away and then charged again, stopping a few feet in front of Maverick. He could see the wolves getting closer, but he was too worried about Tater. What puzzled him most was that Maverick didn’t even flinch. He just knelt there like he was humoring Olsen.
Olsen shifted back into his human form. “I want my mate!”
“I haven’t a clue what’s going on here, but if Tater is looking for refuge and protection, I’m extending it to him. He is now under my roof and my care. If he doesn’t want to see you, I’m sorry, but he doesn’t have to. Mates come first.”
Olsen had already told himself that, but hearing it from someone else’s lips irritated the shit out of him. Hearing it from a man’s lips when it concerned his mate downright pissed him off. He headed toward his truck before he did something really stupid—like ignore the very large alpha and charge in after his mate.
He slammed the truck door, not caring this time. Olsen sat there and watched the house as he tried to calm down. He wasn’t sure what Tater’s problem was, but he was at the end of his rope. If his mate wanted time, he’d give it to him, but he was tired of Tater talking to him like he was less than a man.
Cecil and Blair sat in the den, eyeing the large redhead sitting on the other couch. Cecil wasn’t sure who the man was, but if he had gotten into the house, the guy had to be cool. His mate, Maverick, wouldn’t allow a threat in.
“So who are you again?” Blair asked as he leaned forward.
“Tater. I’m Taylor’s friend.”
Blair sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. “You visiting or running from someone?”
Cecil bit back the chuckle. It didn’t matter how many years he had been around Blair. He loved the guy’s bluntness.
“Why does that matter?” the guy asked irritably.