Authors: Lynn Hagen
Tags: #Siren-BookStrand, #Inc.
Teaky snuck out often to indulge in the modern world. His favorite thing was chocolate. He couldn’t get enough of it.
“Hey, Carter.” Oliver tapped knuckles with him, a custom Carter found bizarre but caught on to quickly.
“I need to ask you something.” He began his pacing again. This was so embarrassing. If his fellow elven knew he had found his mate and ran like a scared little chicken, he would be laughed at for centuries to come.
“Sure, fire away.”
Carter noticed the other men in the room gathered around him.
Great, just what he didn’t need, an audience.
“Who’s the man with the bandana on his head?” He wasn’t reassured when Oliver laughed.
Carter groaned at the name. Who the hell named their kid Tryck?
He flopped down on the sofa, covering his face with his hands. “This can’t be happening.” He ground the heels of his palms into his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Kyoshi asked.
Carter dropped his arms onto the couch dramatically and let out a loud sigh. “He’s the other half of my soul.” The room went cricket-chirping quiet. “Somebody say something,” Carter whined.
“You’re so screwed.” Tangee shook his head.
* * * *
Tryck opened up on the country road, his bike reaching one hundred miles an hour. The engine roared as he ate up pavement. An evil grin surfaced at the feeling of freedom. Adrenaline shot through him at the thrill. He whooped loudly as his two brothers tried to pass him.
He chuckled as Law succeeded in passing him. Tryck would give him that. Let him soak up that little bit of joy at finally passing his older brother. What the hell.
His speed dropped as Dagon signaled for him to pull over.
Irritated at the youngest of them, Tryck pulled onto the grass running the edge of the road. This better be important.
“What the fuck?” Law asked as he pulled up next to Tryck.
“Hell if I know. He’s your brother.” Tryck pulled his sunglasses from his eyes, resting them on top of his bandana-covered head.
“Not when he’s acting like this, he’s yours.” Law looked over his shoulder as the motorcycle pulled up behind them.
Dagon flipped them off as he swung his leg over his bike and sauntered over to the field, taking a leak.
“You got to be kidding me,” Tryck groaned. Only Dagon would stop a perfectly good ride for his bladder. Tryck should have asked him if he had to
before they left the Den.
“Your brother.” Law laughed.
“I can hear you two,” Dagon shouted as he zipped up. “Don’t claim me, don’t really care.” He flipped them off once more before swinging his leg back over his bike.
“Are you ready, or do you need to powder your nose, too?” Tryck asked as he started his bike, revving the engine to drown out Dagon’s answer.
Law laughed as they pulled back onto the road. Tryck pulled the sunglasses back onto his face, steering his bike toward town. The three pulled in front of the small diner.
“You two are real comical,” Dagon grumbled at them as Tryck knocked his shoulder into his little brother’s.
They entered the diner laughing. One of the mates pointed to a booth for them to sit at.
Tryck hated living at the Den with the pack but needed somewhere for his brothers to live after Alpha Crone called a hunt on their heads for being gay. Tryck wanted to kill the bastard, but Law
and Dagon talked him into leaving, reminding him that his mother and father would be hunted as well if they didn’t.
Tryck hated tucking tail and running. It wasn’t in him. At six five and three hundred and ten pounds, he wasn’t a weakling by far. His father had thought he lucked out when his three sons were born warriors. Timber wolf shifters were the largest breed, but not all were warriors. It was an honor to be born one, until the Alpha found out their sexual preference. Tryck knew it was only an excuse to get rid of the three. The Alpha feared them.
Now they lived with Alpha Maverick and his crew. All warriors, all gay, big fucking deal. It meant nothing to Tryck except a pack his brothers could belong to. Apparently someone thought a wolf needed a pack. Tryck didn’t, but his brothers did.
“What’ll you guys have?” the mate Tangee asked, pulling out his pad.
“Give me a fat burger and some fries.” Dagon tossed the menu onto the table.
“Same here,” Law said.
“I want a nice rare steak with mixed vegetables.” Tryck handed his menu over, noticing his brother’s smirking. “What? I’m a growing boy. I need my veggies.”
“You grow any more and your ass will spread.” Tryck threw a fork at Law’s head. “Asshole.”
“What are you men up to?” The warrior Cody asked, sliding into the booth with them. He owned half the diner. He guessed he could sit with them. It didn’t matter to Tryck that they lived in the same house, didn’t make them friends.
“Out riding till Cinderella here needed to eat.” Law nodded his head over to Dagon.
“Testy, too, must be his time.” Law threw his arm up, laughing as Dagon cuffed the back of his head.
“Play nice in here. We have human customers,” Cody warned.
“Will do.” Tryck chuckled at his brothers. He may not give a shit, but he wasn’t a prick—mostly.
“Oh, and Maverick wants you guys to stop at home,” Cody added before sliding out and joining his mate behind the counter. Tryck smiled at the little guy named Keata. Most of the mates at the Den irritated him, but a few were cool. Keata was too damn innocent for his own good, and looked at life through a child’s eye.
The smallest mate, Nero, was, well, Nero. He had every quirk under the sun. The guy wore blue latex gloves all the time. Then there was little Johnny. Strange guy. He wasn’t even going to get started on Gabby.
“What do you think Maverick wants?” Dagon asked.
Tryck shrugged his shoulders. No telling with the Alpha. Tryck may be fearless, but tangling with the six-nine Alpha made him think twice. Oh, he’d take him on if he had to, only if he had to. The Alpha wasn’t quite right in the head. That’s why he loved fucking with him.
Maverick would bring down pain in a heartbeat, and then in the next breath, he was all cuddly with his mate or Melonee. He spouted out about dreams he had, saying they told him things. Tryck would bet the Alpha was just missing a few screws. And if he had to hear one more time about those damned Fudgsicles. Tryck mentally growled.
“Guess we’ll find out when we get there.” Tryck leaned back when the food was served.
Dagon grabbed his burger before Tangee had a chance to set his plate down. “Hungry?” Tangee smiled.
“Always,” Dagon answered around his bite.
“Anything else? “
“Iced tea.” Tryck glared at his brothers, daring them to say anything.
Law twisted his lips to hide his grin. “Coke for me.”
“Me, too,” Dagon mumbled past his mouthful.
All three dug in, not saying a word as they ate. Tryck had to admit the food was pretty good. George knew how to throw down in the kitchen.
“I’m stuffed.” Law pushed his plate back as he patted his belly.
Dagon stared at Law’s plate and then back at his. “Lightweight,” he teased, chasing ketchup around with a fry.
“You’d eat your own mother if you could get away with it.” Law tossed his napkin on his plate.
Tryck closed his eyes, waving his hands in front of him. “That doesn’t even sound right. Shut up.” His face scrunched up into a souring expression.
“I can’t help it your mind goes right to the gutter,” Law snapped.
“Fuck you, Law.” Tryck was ready to go. He wasn’t one to sit around and socialize. They had done what they came here to do. Now it was time to hit the road. It was a nice day out and time was being wasted sitting around this table. He could already feel the wind in his face.
“Now that doesn’t sound right,” Law teased, playfully batting his eyes at Tryck.
“You both are gross.” Dagon finally pushed his plate away.
Tryck stood, tossing a few bills on the table. “Let’s ride.”
“Oh, yeah, now that’s what I’m talking about.” Law slid out, allowing Dagon freedom.
“Might as well go see what Maverick wants.” Tryck slid his leather on, pulling his sunglasses off of his head and placing them back on his face. He nodded when Tangee waved bye to them.
Tryck looked at the town while waiting for his brothers to come from the bathroom. There had to be something more than this.
Patrolling the estate got old. This town was too small. There was nothing to do but ride. He’d stay, his brothers needed it, but the dismal thought of living the next seven centuries here rankled him.
Life was too damn long to be bored out of his skull at such a young age. Three hundred was young when a shifter lived to be one thousand.
He still had so much time left to watch the weeds grow. There was a hunger inside of him that he wasn’t sure how to satisfy. Tryck didn’t even know what that hunger was for. All he knew was that it clawed at him to be fed.
Tryck turned to see his brothers joining him. They stood on either side of him, knowing his moods just by the look on his face.
“It’ll work itself out. He’ll come back.” Law squeezed his shoulder. He knew Law was going to bring Carter up. The guy couldn’t let things like that go. But Law knew the emptiness that lived inside of Tryck also. One thing was for sure, Tryck was glad for his brothers. They kept him anchored.
“Let’s roll.” He wasn’t into mushy feelings, even with his brothers. They were extremely close, but still guys. Come near him with tears and Tryck ran as far away as he could.
The ride went quick, since they lived only ten minutes from town.
Tryck and his brothers pulled onto the gravel drive then parked their bikes.
Using his fob, he entered through the front door. Crossing the foyer, Tryck headed straight for Maverick’s office.
“Tryck, so glad you graced me with your presence.” Maverick sat behind his desk, tossing a blue stress ball into the air.
“What’s up?” Tryck leaned against the door frame, shoving his thumbs into his front pockets.
“Not much. How’s it going?”
Tryck growled. He didn’t like to be jerked around. “Get to the point, why’d you want to see me?”
Maverick chuckled, sitting the ball on his desk. He leaned back, pulling at his soul patch as he studied him. The Alpha was definitely
strange. Maverick pointed at him. “You need a haircut. Go see Heaven at his shop.”
Tryck clenched his jaw. “That’s why you called me back here?”
“Damn it, Maverick.” The guy was worse than Dagon. Tryck stormed out of the house, his brothers automatically following him.
“What’d he want?” Law asked as they made their way outside.
“A Dagon request.” Tryck snapped at him.
“Hey!” Dagon huffed as they climbed back on their bikes. A fucking haircut. What was wrong with the wolf? He’d get a haircut the day Maverick stopped acting squirrely.
Good question. Tryck threw his head back and roared out loud, releasing some of the pent-up frustration inside. It didn’t faze Law or Dagon. They were used to it.
“Perfect.” Tryck spun his back tire, spitting gravel everywhere, racing from the house.
Once again he opened up, pushing his bike faster. The country setting melted away as they hit the highway. Tryck was frustrated as hell. He weaved around cars and trucks, his brothers following close behind.
He took the off ramp into the heart of the city, pedestrians in the crosswalk and traffic slowing him down. Why couldn’t there be a pack here? This place was crawling with shit to do. Tryck led his brothers to a strip club.
They parked and entered through the back door. Loud rap music blared as men shook their moneymakers on stage. The three took a table closest to the stage, getting up-close and personal.
Normally Tryck would be the first one to find a hot piece of ass and take him out back, but thoughts of Carter swam through his mind as Dagon and Law hit one conquest after another.
There was no way he was allowing Carter to affect him. If the guy wanted to do the disappearing act over one small command, to hell with him.
“You about done?” he asked Dagon. His brother sat back down after his third round with a twink.
Dagon took a swig of the bottle of beer that he had left on the table, kicking his booted feet up onto the chair next to him. He took a long swig before shooting Tryck a dry look and tipping his bottle in deference. “You’re just pissy because Carter isn’t with you.” He should have known Dagon would start in on him. It was only a matter of time before his brother thought he needed to have his opinion heard. “Whatever, where’s Law?” he was not going to have this conversation with his brother, either of them.
Dagon shrugged his shoulders. “He’s on round three in the back somewhere.”
They tossed back a few more beers waiting on Law’s ass.
Knowing him, he was enjoying two guys at the same time. Tryck would never understand his brother so he never even tried.
Tryck couldn’t understand how Law played top
bottom. The dude was too damn big to catch. If anything, he would have put his money on Dagon playing both. But like him, Dagon was strictly top.
Dagon lowered his feet, sitting up straight, rolling his shoulders.
“Think he’ll run out of steam anytime soon?”
“He better or I’m going to drag his ass back in here,” Tryck said irritably as he played with the top to his beer. Dagon may have been correct in saying that he was pissy because of Carter, but he wasn’t going to admit it.
Dagon laughed. “I dare you.”
Tryck shrugged, getting up from their table to hunt his brother down. He found him in a back room playing bottom boy. “You about done?” he asked as he stuck his head around the door.