Hagen, Lynn - Hunter [Zeus's Pack 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting ManLove) (3 page)

“What’s going on, Quinn?”

He took a step to the side, feeling the need to block Tristan from their view. Quinn wasn’t quite sure why. “Nothing. I had a little trouble, but that’s been taken care of.”

Torem tilted his head to the side, peering past Quinn. “You know you can call me if you ever need any help.” Torem’s brow rose, but he didn’t say a word. He straightened and smiled at Quinn.

“Thanks, but I got this.” Quinn gave a short nod to the sheriff.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

“Am I in trouble, sir?” Tristan asked as he hurried next to the cart Quinn was pushing.

“No, jellybean, there are just assholes in the world, and you met two of them.” Quinn pushed the cart to the checkout and began to unload his items. At the last second he remembered Tristan’s treats.

He looked over the candy shelf next to the counter and spotted what he was looking for.

The cashier stared at Quinn when the whole vendor’s box containing the Skittles bags rode down the conveyor belt and stopped in front of her. “Someone’s got a sweet tooth.”

“That would be me.” Tristan raised his hand.

The cashier and Tristan chuckled. “I like your hat.” She smiled.

Hunter

19

“Thank you. Quinn bought it for me.” Tristan ran his index finger and thumb around the brim, showing off his red fedora, with the long and large feather protruding from the side.

“It sets off your eyes,” she complimented him.

Tristan turned, pleased as punch with a big smile on his face. “She likes my hat, sir,” he said softly, so low that only Quinn could hear him.

“You have very good taste, jellybean.” Quinn winked at him with a smile.

20

Lynn Hagen

Tristan stored the last of his clothes in the few drawers Quinn had allotted him. He looked across the room where Quinn was trying to make him an art table. The sound of the cordless drill was a little unnerving. “Sir?”

Quinn glanced up at him, the drill coming to a stop. “What’s up, jellybean?”

He liked that nickname. No one had ever given him one before.

“Why were those men making fun of me?” Tristan flopped down on the bed and removed his hat. He had loved it the moment he laid eyes on it. The feather reminded him of the ones they used as pens a long time ago.

Quinn stood and exhaled a deep breath. “Because they have nothing better to do.” He set the cordless drill down and eyed Tristan.

“Don’t ever let someone get under your skin. No one’s opinion should bother you. It’s what you think about yourself that counts. Remember that.”

The realization dawned on Tristan that the men were making fun of
him
. But why? Quinn grabbed one of the legs he was assembling, and Tristan stared at the muscles rippling under Quinn’s white T-shirt.

He was devilishly handsome. “Was it because of my feather, sir?”

What else could it have been?

Quinn crossed the room and knelt down by the bed in front of Tristan. “Now listen, Tristan. It doesn’t matter why. All you need to do is concentrate on being yourself. Everything else will fall into place. Ignore men who want to belittle you. Their hatred is their problem, not yours. The only person who can bring you down is you.”

Hunter

21

He lightly pressed his index finger into Tristan’s sternum and then stood, his hand falling away.

Tristan noticed how Quinn didn’t really answer his question. He was enchanted with his clothes. They were a variety of different colors, and some were even made of silk. The hat was to die for, and Tristan loved wearing it. What was there not to like about what he picked out? Why would someone make fun of such beautiful clothing?

Tristan grabbed his hat and set it on the dresser, his fingers lingering on the soft fabric. “I’ll try not to let them bother me, sir,” he said, more to the hat than to Quinn. Tristan’s life wasn’t an easy one, but he always tried to look on the bright side of things. There wasn’t a bright side to someone ridiculing his clothes. “May I have my Skittles now, sir?” he asked as he turned around to face Quinn.

“They’re in the kitchen. Look in the pantry.” Quinn went back to building the art table, so Tristan let him be.

All of this was pretty bizarre. He knew Quinn didn’t like when Tristan called him
sir
, but it was a habit now. One he desperately wanted to break, but the word fell from his mouth so naturally. Xavier had screwed his head up pretty bad, but Tristan wasn’t going to give up. He deserved a normal life after being treated like shit from his ex
master
.

Boy, was that title a joke. The man wouldn’t know what a master was if he was hit over the head with three paddling tables. And the wedgie in the panties was that Tristan didn’t even want to be a sub.

That was all Xavier’s doing.

Bastard. Maybe this time he could stay hidden. The psycho had found him the last few times he managed to get away from Mr.

Bondage R Us.

Tristan searched the pantry for the box he saw Quinn buy, his mouth already watering for a taste of one of those delicious candies.

“Well, what do we have here?” A husky voice from behind made Tristan stiffen. “Looks like Quinn finally let his boy toy out to play.”

22

Lynn Hagen

Tristan whirled around, glaring at the man he saw move his things out of the house yesterday.

“I’m no one’s boy toy.” He snapped at the guy as he glared at him. He was furious that this man would assume such things about him. Tristan had no clue where all his bravado was coming from, but
no one
came near him when his mate was in the next room. No one but his mate came near him period.

His head began to spin as the realization slammed into him. Quinn was his mate! Was that why he wanted to please him and was terrified of him all at the same time? The knowledge just surfaced without him even thinking about it. Holy marshmallows!

“A twink with ’tude, I like it.” The larger man backed Tristan into the pantry, using his larger frame to bully Tristan further back into the small alcove.

“Stop.” Tristan pressed his hands into the man’s chest, his brain frantically trying to figure a way out of this situation.

“Why? If Quinn can play with you, why can’t I?” His rough and callused hands were all over Tristan’s body. His skin wanted to throw up from the touch. It was unwelcome and, quite frankly, scary.

“No!” Tristan pushed with all his might, slipping under the guy’s arm and running from the room. He slammed into Quinn’s chest and fell to the floor, a yelp escaping his lips.

“What’s wrong, jellybean?” Quinn reached down and pulled Tristan to his feet. He wasn’t sure what he should say. Weren’t Quinn and the man in the pantry friends? Would Quinn believe him?

Tristan didn’t have to say a word. When the man in the pantry came out, Quinn’s face twisted up in anger. “What the hell are you doing here, Mickey?”

“I forgot a few things in my hasty departure from
your
house.”

“In the pantry?” Quinn looked from Tristan to Mickey and growled, twisting the front of the man’s shirt in his fists. “What the fuck did you do to Tristan?”

Hunter

23

“
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
…” Tristan began to sing, going to his happy place in his mind. It was the only way he had learned to deal with high-stress situations, or even uncomfortable ones. He’d been beaten for it many times by Xavier, but it was a habit he’d had since childhood.

“He’s singing, so you must have done something.” Quinn slammed Mickey’s back into the wall. His stance told Tristan that the outcome wasn’t going to be pleasant. He began to repeat the song when the two started fighting in the kitchen.

Mickey shoved Quinn back and tried to get a punch in, but Quinn ducked and landed one square on Mickey’s jaw. “How fucking dare you come in here and disrespect my company?” Quinn hit him again.

“Since when do you defend some guy you brought home to fuck, Quinn? I thought we were friends.” Mickey spit on the kitchen floor.

It smacked onto the linoleum and was riddled with blood. Tristan took a step back. That was just gross.

“I thought you were straight? What happened to banging chicks, Mickey? Since when do you go after guys?”

Quinn advanced and used his elbow to crack Mickey’s nose.

Tristan was at a loss of what he should do. He sang louder as he watched the two tussle. It was like a clash of the titans. The two heavily muscled bodies slammed into counters and knocked the chairs away from the table.

Quinn finally grabbed Mickey by the scruff of his collar and his waistband and shoved him at the front door. “Get the fuck out, and leave the damn key.”

Mickey reached into his pocket and pulled the door key out, throwing it at Quinn. “It’s a sorry day when you pick a fuck boy over your friend.” The guy slammed the door on his way out.

“You can stop singing now. He’s gone.” Quinn walked over and looked Tristan over. “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you, jellybean?”

Tristan shook his head, embarrassed of his childhood habit. “No, sir.”

24

Lynn Hagen

“Come on, I have your table ready for you.” Quinn waved for Tristan to follow him, and he obediently ran behind his mate.
Wow,
his mate. Who would have thought that when he ran from Xavier this time that he would find his mate?

Tristan walked into the bedroom and came to a halt. In the corner was a drawing table. There was a small lamp clipped to one end and all his art supplies that Quinn had bought for him. Tristan walked over to the stool, his fingers ghosting over the table, the sketchpad, and the small cup that held his drawing utensils.

He wiped a stray tear. Swallowing a few times around the knot in his throat, he turned and stared up at Quinn. “Thank you, sir.”

“Ah, shucks, it wasn’t nothing.” Quinn chucked Tristan on the arm. “Just giving you something to call your own.”

If Quinn only knew how precious this was to him. The gesture alone gave him a thousand brownie points. He slid onto the stool and opened his sketchpad, his fingers trembling as he grabbed a pencil and forgot the world existed.

“I’ll leave you to your drawing. Come find me if you need something.”

Tristan nodded, barely registering Quinn’s words. His hands flew over the paper, his mind opening up and taking over. His drawing hand became a separate entity.

Tristan thought of his time with Xavier, the way his ex had been nice at first, like most new relationships started. And then the real Xavier surfaced, and Tristan had done everything in his power to get away. But each time he escaped, the man had found him and threatened his life if he didn’t come back. Tristan crossed his fingers and prayed he had finally gotten away permanently.

Obsession was not a good thing, not by far. It amazed him how some people latched onto something or someone and felt they had a right to dictate their lives and how they should do things. This was why he enjoyed being around Quinn. The man insisted he make his

Hunter

25

own choices, something he had forgotten how to do after only one year of being with Mr. Obsessive.

After what felt like hours, his head started bobbing. Tristan had no clue what music was floating into the bedroom. Quinn had to be playing it…and he
liked
it.

His upper body started rocking back and forth to the beat as he drew. Within a few minutes, Tristan was sliding off of the stool and dancing to the rhythm. He danced backwards, did the John Travolta disco moves as his feet tapped around with the music.

“I see you like it.” Quinn walked into the room and sidled next to Tristan and began to dance. “It’s Eminem rapping.”

Tristan popped his shoulders as he twirled around. “I like it, sir.”

He laughed when Quinn bobbed his shoulders, his arms swaying back and forth, and his lower body began to squat down and then rose back up.

“Old school, baby.” Quinn did something funky with his arms, like an ocean wave, and Tristan tried to repeat it. His arms seemed to tangle as he tried to parrot the move.

“Watch, watch.” Tristan did a pirouette and then entwined his fingers, doing the ocean waving thingy in front of his body.

“You’re getting it, jellybean.” Quinn laughed and danced in a circle around Tristan. He ran and grabbed his hat, tossing it on his head, and then ran back over to Quinn.

“Watch my feather dance, sir.” Tristan laughed as he bobbed his head, the feather taking flight. Tristan cracked up as Quinn grabbed his straw hat and joined him in head bobbing and dancing. He couldn’t remember that last time he had this much fun.

They danced through a few songs, having a blast. Tristan ran out of the room and slid down the hall, doing a Tom Cruise move, his borrowed purple socks taking him to the end of the hallway. Quinn did some sort of slide thing down the hall, finally making it to Tristan’s side.

26

Lynn Hagen

They danced their way into the kitchen were Quinn grabbed some bottled waters and tossed one to Tristan. He drank it halfway down, wiping his brow free from sweat. “That was fun.” He panted as he took a seat at the table.

“Just a typical day in Quinn Chevay’s house.” Quinn jumped up onto the counter and took a seat. “I wanted to go to the jobsite and see how things are going. You want to ride along, jellybean?”

“Yes, sir.” Tristan wanted to get out of the house. He just feared Xavier tracking him down. The less time he spent in the public eye, the better off he would be, but he couldn’t live like a hermit.

“Then let’s head out.” Quinn hopped down, finished his water, and then tossed the bottle. Tristan kept his with him. Meeting new people always made him nervous and then his throat would dry out.

The water would be handy. Maybe he should grab another one.

Tristan ran into the bedroom and grabbed his sketchpad and a pencil.

One never knew when they would need to draw.