by Fel Fern
“Where did Rick go?” Connor asked him, handing him a beer.
“Back to the bar, where else?” he replied.
Danny joined them, sipping his beer. Mac had to smile. Hard to believe Danny used to be a famous model. The human had been laying low in the Red Mountains, hiding from his stalker, and rented one of their cabins. In the end, Danny decided to stay for Connor, settling for local modeling jobs instead.
The mating call was a darn powerful thing. Mac used to make fun of it with Connor when they were kids, scoffed at the idea of a shifter having one destined mate for life. Seeing it first hand, well. It scared the shit out of Mac.
Mating was definitely not for him. Mac preferred casual dating and one-stand-stands, thank you very much. Relationships seemed to need a lot of work. He heard Connor and Danny yelling at each other sometimes, not difficult since the couple lived next door to Rick and him. However, in the end, Connor and Danny always made up with sex. Yuck.
Still, out of the three of them, Mac didn’t expect Connor would be the first to find his mate. The first and the last, because like him, Rick wasn’t interested in having a man tie him down. Mac couldn’t deny he had his moments of doubt though. Seeing the way Danny looked at his brother and vice-versa, he began to wonder what it would be like, having another man watch him with tenderness and love in his eyes.
Oh God. Connor and Danny were rubbing off him, and the wrong way, too. Mac needed to get laid soon. It wouldn’t be a problem either. With his looks and charm, Mac always had a willing body in bed. Too bad the one man he wanted, even suspected of being his mate, disappeared on him ten years ago.
He scoffed. What was the point of thinking about Pat Lane now? That shy, cute boy he’d hung around with probably had moved on. No use thinking about what-could-have-beens, although Pat never realized what him leaving town meant to Mac. His foolish bear had unthinkingly began to think of Pat as theirs, a piece of their heart.
When Pat left with his family, it felt like Mac’s heart had been torn from his chest. No small wonder he didn’t want anyone to tie him down. It was a pain worse than death, even worse than his parents’ death, leaving him and his brothers to fend for themselves.
Wherever you are, Patrick Lane, screw you.
“Mac?” Connor asked.
He blinked, realizing he’d drifted off. “What?”
“How’s the business going? Any new bookings?”
Connor meant the cabin rental business. The cabins had initially been their mom’s business, while the Honey Bear bar belonged to their father. The three of them chose to keep the bar running, because it brought in decent business, leaving the cabins in disarray. After Danny rented a cabin last winter, Connor and he decided to fix the rest as a side project.
To their surprise, a couple of tourists had taken interest. At the moment, three out of their four available cabins were being rented.
“Good, actually. Last cabin left,” he said, finishing his beer. “I’m going to check the applicants later, going to hit town first.”
Connor nodded in understanding. “Have fun.”
Connor and Danny left to go back to their place, leaving the house feeling empty. He could hear his brother laughing at a joke Danny mentioned. It still shocked him, hearing that sound. Connor seldom laughed, even when they were kids. It still eluded him how one defiant human managed to do what Mac and Rick could not—lure Connor out of his shell.
Picking up his car keys, Mac headed out to his truck. He needed a hard drink or several to clear his head, because for a second there, he entertained the possibility of finding his own mate.
Chapter Two
Only when Pat drove past the “Welcome to Red Mountains” sign did it truly hit him. He was back here, at a place he swore he’d never return to. While Pat was born and raised here, he left when he was fourteen. He couldn’t quite bring himself to call the Red Mountains home.
Growing up, his parents were seldom home. Pat only had good memories of Mac. Before coming here, he even looked up the O’Rileys to see if Mac and his brothers still lived here. He discovered the Honey Bear, the bar Mac’s father owned, was still in business. O’Riley Cabin Rentals was also listed under the town’s local businesses. Pat couldn’t recall any other O’Rileys when he left town.
Coincidence? Did it matter?
Pat let out a frustrated breath. He’d driven over a thousand miles, only stopping at motels for a few hours, before it hit him. Pat embarked on this random adventure without any solid planning. That was so unlike him. Pat planned every hour of the day, needed organization in his life, yet he took off right after quitting his job, bringing some essentials with him.
He just paid his rent a couple of days ago and his bills had been taken care of, too. Pat would drop by the Red Mountains, stay a couple of days, maybe play tourist, then figure out what he’d do with the rest of his life. He heard Joe moved out of town after high school so he didn't have to worry about the old bully.
Heck, he might even hunt down Mac, say hello. Mac and he might have parted abruptly but surely the werebear would see an old friend. Yeah, right. He huffed. Pat had never been bold or brave. That was Mac’s thing, not his.
Pat imagined tracking Mac’s address, knocking on the door only to be greeted by Mac’s boyfriend. Worse, Mac’s husband. Before leaving the Red Mountains in his teens, he overheard a rumor Mac was gay. What would he do next?
“Stop it,” he whispered to himself. “I’m here now.”
Pat considered driving back, but then what? He’d spend the next few weeks in his miserable apartment, circling potential job prospects while dressed in his pajamas. No, thank you.
The town seemed relatively unchanged from what he last remembered. There were a few new establishments that hadn’t been there before, a Starbucks here, an Apple store there.
Driving past the familiar streets, a wave of nostalgia hit him. Then panic. He hadn’t even bothered looking for a hotel or inn. Jesus. What was wrong with him? Maybe he was still recovering from his nervous breakdown, because usually, he planned everything to the last detail.
“Calm down,” he told himself.
His chest hurt, making it hard to breathe. Oh God. He couldn’t have another attack this soon. Spotting the familiar sign of the Honey Bear to his left, he decided a drink would help settle his nerves. Mac might be there or not. He was hoping it would be the former.
Either way, he needed some air. The car felt suddenly too small and uncomfortable. He found a parking spot one street away and got out. The feeling lessened as he took deep breaths and counted to ten in his head.
There was no need to worry. He’d do this the old-fashioned way. Pat would drive to a few inns, see if they had any spare rooms. Red Mountains wasn’t exactly a popular destination given its remote location. As usual, Pat worried too much. He was going to be right as rain.
Pat entered the Honey Bear. It felt like a blast to the past. Back in school, he remembered the popular kids talking about how cool it would be, to sneak into a bar like the Honey Bear, which catered to the “monsters” in town. Nothing about the bar had changed at all, but he could tell plenty of love had been put into it. Standing there certainly took him way back.
Ten years ago, Mac snuck him into his father’s bar when it was still closed, big hand over his as they snuck into the Honey Bear like thieves.
Back then, he kept protesting, telling Mac he was scared they’d get caught by Mac’s dad. Mac wouldn’t hear of backing away. Mac had the devil in his smile. Always did. Mac never backed away from a challenge. No wonder mischief followed the werebear anywhere. His bear had always been fearless.
No. Mac had never been his or anyone else’s really. Mac was like a force of nature, wild and untamable.
Unlike the time Mac snuck him into the empty and quiet bar, tonight it was rowdy and crowded. He could barely think with the music pounding through the speakers. Sweat dripped down his back. A few people gave him brief stares, their pupils yellow and red under t
he dim lights. Shifters and other kinds of paranormals. Fear crawled down his spine, but he shoved it back.
Pat didn’t come all the way here only to walk away. He was sick of being a coward, so he pushed forward. The other patrons of the bar returned to their conversations. Relieved, Pat’s initial apprehension faded away. Being invisible was one thing he’d always been good at.
Pat found his way to the bar, silently congratulating himself on scoring an empty seat.
“Bartender, hit me up with a beer, please,” he said, about to swivel in his seat and look around the bar.
“We seldom get many humans in here,” a grumpy voice muttered, and he returned his attention to the bar.
He widened his eyes as recognition hit him. The black-haired and green-eyed giant could only be Rick, Mac’s older brother. The O’Riley brothers had a few physical similarities, but Rick was a rougher version of his Mac.
His Mac?
A laugh slipped from his lips. Rick narrowed his eyes at him. “That was a warning, human. You’re clearly not from around these parts, but humans who enter these doors are considered prey by any of the paranormals in here.”
He stiffened. “You don’t think I can handle myself? It’s not my first time in Red Mountains.”
“Clearly not. It’s been, what? Ten years, little Pat?” a voice drawled.
Pat jerked his head to the speaker, swallowed when Mac suddenly took the magically emptied stool next to him. He didn’t even see the shifter, but God, the years had been good to Mac. He had filled out his lean athletic form. The werebear still had the same mischievous blue eyes and wore his black hair short. Pat’s gaze moved lower. Mac was nearly as big as Rick, every inch of him filled with hard muscle.
Mac was all male now, and just when he thought he could easily get over his little crush, desire slammed into him, twice as hard. Could Pat never be free of Mac O’Riley? Did he even want that? Surely, part of him had known he’d bump into one of the O’Riley brothers when he entered the Honey Bear. He didn’t just meet one, but two of them.
“You know him?” Rick grumbled to Mac.
“In high school, but he left before the year was over,” Mac said, not looking at his brother. The werebear gave him a sweeping glance from top to bottom, leaving him blushing. Damn. Pat still had that effect on him. He shouldn’t be surprised. Mac said softly, “Little Pat’s all grown up now.”
“Then he’s your responsibility,” Rick muttered, setting two beers on the bar.
He quickly grabbed his, only to have Mac’s large callused hand over his.
“High school was a long time ago,” he said, wondering where he found the courage to speak.
“Clearly,” Mac said, those bright blue eyes dipping to the erection he sported. “Some things haven’t changed.”
“Let me go.”
Mac did. Pat touched the bottle to his lips and drank a huge gulp.
“Woah there, little human. Why don’t you slow down?”
“Screw you,” he mumbled. “I need this.”
Mac said nothing for a few moments as he gulped the entire bottle down. He panted. Wow. He’d never done that before. Sure, he drank himself to sleep on most nights, but an entire bottle in a few seconds?
“What brought you back to our little neck of the woods?” Mac asked, sipping his own beer.
He blinked a few times, just to make sure Mac hadn’t been a figment of his imagination. Nope, the werebear was still there, looking at him like he was a juicy piece of steak. Not that Pat didn’t want to climb that—no, no. Just a bit of alcohol and already, Pat loosened up. This wasn’t good.
On second thought, maybe he needed that extra liquid courage to face his childhood crush. Pat drank more of his beer.
“I’m on a holiday. Well, a break, really. I lost my job. Had a nervous breakdown.” He was really out of it, Pat decided, because he usually didn’t air out his dirty laundry to strangers. He might have known Mac back in high school, but the werebear was a stranger to him now.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mac said.
“I’m not. Remember what you told me before? About sticking up for myself?”
Mac nodded, blue eyes less amused and more…intense. It was a little unnerving to have Mac’s entire focus on him. A drunk handsome young man stumbled in Mac’s direction.
“Mac, buy me a drink,” the guy slurred.
“Not tonight, Bobby,” Mac said in a firm iron voice Pat had never heard of before.
The drunk guy squinted at Pat. “You’re picking this human? He’s not even—”
Mac silenced the intruder with a snarl, flashing sharp fangs. The guy backed away. “He’s my human,” Mac said.
Time came to a halt. Did he really hear those words?
Mac’s proclamation brought a few stares from the other paranormals, then they went back to whatever they were going.
Pat sniffed. “I’m not your human, or your anything. If I remember correctly, during the last conversation we had, you stomped out.”
Mac flew off his seat, suddenly stood in front of him, making Pat aware of how huge the shifter was. Aggressive energy rolled off Mac in waves. Momentary fear crept down his spine, but he knew deep down Mac would never hurt him. Mac made him that promise ten years ago, except it was the boy who did, not the man.
“Be careful of your next words, little human.” Mac’s words were a warning.
Pat gave him a little shove. “I’ve had enough of bullies.”
Mac released him, looking like Pat punched him in the face. Guilt rammed into him a second later, as Mac stomped off without another word, away from him and out toward the doors. Oh God. What had he done? Pat hadn’t meant to lump Mac with the assholes who bullied him in high school and his adult life.
He reached for his bottle, only for Rick to snatch it up.
“You had enough to drink,” Mac’s brother said drily, replacing the bottle with a glass of water.
He nodded, defeated, then slumped his head on the counter. What had he done wrong?
A hand brushed his shoulder minutes later. Relieved Mac had reconsidered, he raised his head only to look into an unfamiliar grinning pale face with two sharp fangs poking out and crimson eyes. A chill crept down his spine. From the corner of his eye, he looked for Rick, but Rick was tending to a couple of customers.
“I’m looking for a snack,” the vampire said, grip like steel on his arm.
Chapter Three
Mac didn’t know why he let Pat’s words affect him that much. His bear snarled inside him, wanting to return to the crowded bar. The animal wanted him to fix things with their mate. Their mate. The revelation froze him in his tracks. No wonder his bear went wild when he caught that familiar, enticing scent in the air.
“Can’t be,” he muttered, but it certainly explained why Pat leaving town had affected him so much.
That day ten years ago, he went out of his way to save a freshman he didn’t even know for reasons he couldn’t quite understand. Mac never did things like that, usually. He’d been self-centered, only cared about his brothers and keeping his parents’ dream alive. A mate had never been in the picture.
Either way, Pat mentioned he was on a break. It wasn’t like Pat planned on staying. Pat left once, he’d do it again. No use tangling with a loose cannon like Pat, except his bear rose to the surface of his skin when he heard a little scream all the way outside.
Pat. The animal kept pushing the change on him, but he shoved it back, leashed it, because he didn’t know what or who he was up against. Mac stormed back into the bar. Bobby got in his way. The sly fox shifter flashed him a smile, which wilted at his look. The unmated shifter, who probably fucked his way through all the dominant shifters in town, was wise enough to back away from him.
Seeing the vampire clamping his hand on Pat’s arm fueled his rage. What the fuck? Where was Rick? Then he spotted Rick on the far edge of the bar, busy taking orders. They really needed to hire new staff. Connor and he helped out occasionally, but
Mac was too busy making sure O’Riley Cabin Rental stayed afloat.
First thing’s first though. That vampire clearly didn’t know that Pat was already taken. The other customers must have sensed his mood, his pissed-off beast, because the crowd parted until he reached the bar. He pulled Pat unthinkingly to him, ripping Pat away from the vampire.
Mac recognized Roger. Roger went to the same high school, was a year older than him. Last he heard, Roger petitioned the local vampire coven to turn him. A newly changed baby vampire wasn’t a threat to Mac, who spent his entire life controlling the killing machine inside him. Roger flashed his fangs at him, silenced by the roar that made the drinks on the bar rattle.
“He’s mine,” he said, growl accompanying his words.
It didn’t help his mood that Pat clung to him, eyes wide, but not bothering to correct him. Good. Seeing Pat safe and not a scratch on him eased his fear a little.
“I saw him first,” Roger complained.
“Wrong. He’s been mine since ten years ago.”
Pat let out a breath at those words. He didn’t care who was watching or the conclusions the other folks reached.
“He doesn’t wear your scent or your bite marks,” Roger said.
“Yet,” he finished.
Roger narrowed his eyes, and Mac sensed the presence of a dominant shifter right behind him. He wasn’t worried, because his bear recognized his brother. Another vampire, a female one, grabbed Roger’s arm and hissed in his ear. “Let the bear have the human, Roger. No use starting a fight over something so plain. I bet the human won’t even taste good,” she said.
“Get the fuck out of my bar,” Rick said.
Good thing Rick spoke for him, because Mac had been this close to letting his bear out, but he knew better. The last thing he wanted was to get into a fight with the local vampires in town. Red Mountains had no dominant shifter or other paranormal group in town, which suited all the supernatural folks living there just fine. Each group had an agreement to keep to their own business.
