Hagen, Lynn - Tater's Bear [Brac Pack 22] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) (6 page)

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.

“He’s safe here. No one is going to touch him. I give you my word.”

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.

“It seems someone is running.” Blair needled the man. Yeah, okay, they were bored out of their minds. Someone new equated to fun in Cecil and Blair’s eyes.

“Are you always this nosey?”

“Are you always this defensive?” Blair retorted.

“Why don’t you go find someone to hassle and leave me the hell alone? You’re irritating as fuck.”

“Why don’t you kiss my lily-white ass?”

Before Cecil could even blink, Tater and Blair were chest to chest, growling and snapping at one another. His head whipped to the side when Blair’s mate, Kota, stormed into the den, grabbing Blair around his waist and pulling him away.

“What’s going on, sunshine?” Kota asked as he glared at the stranger.

“He’s an ass,” Blair bit out.

Cecil jumped back when the redheaded stranger charged. What the hell was the guy’s problem? A few other mates joined them as Kota pushed Blair behind him.

“What’s going on?” Drew asked from beside Cecil.