Pack Rules (Siren Publishing Classic ManLove)

by JC Holly

  “Why didn’t you take them out?”

  It was Ethan’s turn to frown. “Excuse me?”

  Craig waved to the door. “They were on your property, armed, and pissed off. No court would’ve convicted you.”

  “Violence isn’t always the answer, Craig.”

  “Even for an Alpha?”

  Ethan could feel the hairs on the back of his neck start to rise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that the point of the Alpha is to protect his pack.” Craig rapped his knuckles on a table. “What if they come back?”

  “They won’t. And I did protect the pack. I made the guy look like a jackass to his friends.” Ethan headed for the bottles again. “If he comes back, he comes back alone.”

  “Or with different friends.”

  Ethan spun. “If you have a problem with the way I run my pack, you either tell me directly, or bring it up at a meeting.”

  Craig nodded. “I will.”

  Chapter Four

  Conor stooped to collect the mail from the hallway floor while simultaneously holding Tommy back from doing the same.

  “You don’t need to fetch it when I’m standing next to it, mutt!”

  Tommy yapped in reply and sat down by the stairs, his tail thumping against the wall. Conor dropped onto a step beside him and put the mail to his side before yawning. He hadn’t slept well at all. That damn wolf had spent most of the night running around Conor’s head. They hadn’t been nightmares, but they had still ruined his sleep, as a dream-heavy night usually did.

  He couldn’t get the animal’s eyes out of his head. Bizarre. The whole situation on the street had been bizarre, in fact. Still, the eyes were what stood out. They seemed far too intelligent to belong to an animal.

  “No offense, Tommy.” He patted the dog on the head.

  The mail was, as usual, mostly bills, but there were also two flyers. One was for a PC repair firm that had ripped Conor off in the past, and one was for a “gay friendly” bar, named The Wolfpack.

  “Gay friendly?” He glanced at the opening times, and the stylised picture of a wolf in the bottom corner. “So, what, it’s just gays, or gays and straights, or only friendly gay people? Whaddya think?”

  He smirked and glanced at Tommy, who didn’t find his witty observation in any way witty. He did, however, chuff once, then stand and walk into the kitchen. Conor took that as a hint that it was time for breakfast, and followed, the flyer still in his hand.

  I could go, I guess. It’s about time I got out there. He fiddled with Tommy’s dog food bag and dumped a cupful into his bowl, then sat at the table, happy chomping sounds filling the room.

  From the flyer, it seemed like a pretty laid-back place. There was a small photo in the middle, showing the bar, and it looked like a mix between a club and a pub. I could always just sit at the bar and see if I like the place. Images flooded his mind, many of them inappropriate for ten in the morning.

  “For now, though, I have a lunch date with my boss.”

  Tommy raised his head just long enough to give what Conor took to be a pitying expression.

  “Ah, it won’t be so bad, I’m sure.” He scratched the dog behind the ears. “He was good when I left.”

  It may have helped that his boss was also gay, or it may have been that he was just a nice guy. Probably both. Regardless, the meeting was important, and that meant wearing something other than gray sweatpants and an old Guns N’ Roses T-shirt.

  While upstairs, he grabbed a quick shower, then pulled on a pair of his black work pants and a casual blue shirt. Not too casual, but not too formal, either. After a glance in a mirror, he also straightened his mop of blond hair with a brush, then headed to the kitchen. Next to his half-empty cup of coffee was the flyer for the bar, which he slipped into his back pocket.

  “Behave, Tommy. Okay?”

  Tommy responded by jumping up and resting his paws on Conor’s shirt. Conor bent to kiss him between the ears, then pushed him gently to the side.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” he said as he brushed at the paw-shaped marks on his shirt.

  It’d have to do. He wasn’t changing again. He was already pushing it for arriving on time, and would probably have to settle for fashionably late.

  His boss was already seated at a table outside the café as Conor pulled up five minutes after their arranged time. If Phillip was bothered, though, he didn’t show it. Conor jumped out of the car, locked the door, took a surreptitious glance at his dog-pawed shirt, then made his way through the afternoon shoppers toward his boss.

  The man stood as Conor neared, showing off his sharp, black suit. Few men could pull off a pinstripe in this day and age, but Phillip Stent was one of them. The two extra decades he had on Conor hadn’t affected his physique, or his appearance. Despite being in his late forties, the only real indicator that he was older than thirty was his closely cropped salt-and-pepper hair. And even that looked good.

  Conor realised, as he reached over to shake the man’s hand, that he’d been holding a torch for his boss, and hadn’t noticed. He tried hard not to blush and sat down opposite, wishing he’d put on a suit.

  “I feel underdressed,” he admitted with a smile.

  Phillip laughed, then shrugged. “You’re fine. I came straight from the office, or I would’ve ditched the suit.” He waved a waiter over then turned back to Conor. “Hungry?”

  Conor ordered a green salad and an orange juice, and tried not to laugh as the stick-thin Phillip ordered bacon, sausage, and an omelette, with a large black coffee. Phillip noticed the expression and patted his stomach.

  “Two hours of training a day. I could get away with one hour if I didn’t eat so much crap.” He leaned forward in his chair. “So, how are you doing?”

  Conor fiddled with a napkin. “I’m good, thanks. I’m feeling a lot more relaxed, and I’m looking forward to coming back.”

  “Good! But I didn’t mean work. I meant the whole ‘coming out’ thing.”

  “Ah. That.” Conor sighed. “Well I haven’t developed a love of Barbra Streisand overnight, like some of my friends seemed to believe I would. Feels good to admit it to myself, though. The coming out, not the Streisand thing.”

  “How did your girlfriend take it?” Phillip looked sheepish. “I forgot her name, sorry.”

  “Michelle. And not well. In fact, that’s an understatement. I doubt she’ll ever understand.”

  “You can’t really blame her, of course,” Phillip said. “It’s nobody’s fault, though.”

  “That’s not what Michelle thinks.”

  “You’re still talking? That’s a good sign.”

  “Less ‘talking,’ and more ‘being abused via the answering machine,’” Conor said. “Nothing beats coming home after a hard night to find the drunken ravings of someone you once shared a bed with who now considers you not worthy to look after your own dog, who, according to her, should be living with her. Despite the fact that Tommy couldn’t stand her.” He felt the blood rush to his cheeks and apologised. “Too much information.”

  Phillip smiled back. “It’s fine. You’re having a hard time. Consider me a friendly ear.”

  “A friendly ear who pays my wages.”

  “Ah, but that’s when we’re at work.” He nodded to the approaching waiter. “I don’t remember hiring him, so this probably isn’t the office.”

  The meals came with the waiter, and the pair was silent while they arranged various plates and thanked the waiter. When the man was heading back off to the café, Phillip turned back.

  “So, had any good cock lately?”

  Conor choked on his orange juice, which splattered down his shirt in a widening slick of sticky fluid. “Jesus!”

  Phillip burst out laughing, then leaned over to dab at the stain with a wad of napkins. “Sorry! I should’ve waited till you’d put the glass down.”

  “That would have been helpful, yes.” Conor gave up on the stain and batted Phillip’s hand away. “Anyway
, it’s barely been any time since I came out.”

  Phillip sat back, still chuckling. “True, but it’s never too soon to get laid, my friend.”

  Conor glanced around, nervous about discussing anything other than the weather in public. “I did get a flyer this morning about a bar.” He rifled in his pocket and produced the crumpled paper. “Do you know it?”

  Phillip took the flyer and glanced at it. “Oh, yeah, I know it. It’s not far from here, actually. Went there a few times with an old boyfriend.”

  “What’s it like? Is it, y’know...”

  “Gay?” Phillip raised an eyebrow. “It’s a mix, but people are free to be what they want. Saw a couple of guys get tossed out one night because they objected to a couple of guys kissing.” He shrugged. “If you’re not sure, head down there for a drink. You’re cute, so guys will come over. If you start to panic, pull out the ‘straight’ card.”

  “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

  Phillip winked. “In most cases, it’ll work, too.”

  “That doesn’t help.”

  He forked a piece of bacon into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully, then shrugged. “That’s the way it is. Think about guys picking up guys, and vice versa. You’ll always get a couple of jackasses. If they get annoying, tell the bouncers. It’s what they’re there for.”

  “I guess.”

  “Want me to come with you?”

  Conor shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I’m a big boy, after all.”

  Phillip waggled his eyebrows. “No wonder Michelle was sorry to see you go.”

  Chapter Five

  Despite having to be back there after closing, Ethan once again found himself sat on a stool at the bar, a beer in his hand. He had a bad feeling about the approaching meeting, given Craig’s attitude after seeing him deal with the goons earlier, and needed a little stress relief. He eyed the small crowd of patrons. Maybe a little pressure relief, too.

  He swivelled back to the bar and got Avani’s attention. “Another beer, if’n you please.”

  “You know, you could just come back here and grab one, boss.”

  He nodded as she slid a fresh bottle to him. “I could. But I won’t.”

  “Yeah, I know.” She smirked. “You like to play the patron.”

  “That, and in a few hours I have to play big bad boss in front a bunch of people who want my job. No stress till I have no choice.”

  Avani nodded. “Fair enough. Though not all of us want your job, you know.”

  She walked off down the bar to serve some drinkers, and Ethan turned to face the dance floor. She was right, of course. Of the pack, he could think of only four or five who would want the responsibility of being alpha, and only one who would try to take it from him without good reason. Unfortunately, that one person had a reason, now. It was slim, but a belief that Ethan couldn’t hold his own could cause a great deal of turmoil in the pack.

  He flipped the top off his beer with a thumb and drained half the bottle’s contents.

  “All right. Stress relief.” He rolled his shoulders. “The next likely guy to walk through that door, I fuck.”

  No sooner had he said it, he was glad he’d used the word “likely.” Craig swaggered through the door, a woman on his arm that Ethan didn’t recognise. She was human, though, so it didn’t particularly matter. The man moved to the opposite end of the bar, avoiding eye contact with Ethan. The man was planning something for the meeting tonight. Craig was nothing if not predictable in his mannerisms.

  Ethan mirrored the man’s lack of interest, and turned back to the door just in time to see someone familiar walk in.

  Blond, blue eyes, and nervous, just like last time Ethan had seen him. Though he’d looked much taller then. In his human form, though, Ethan had a good few inches on the man. And I wouldn’t mind putting a few inches in the man, either.

  The man glanced around the bar several times, then made his way to the stool one over from Ethan and signalled to Avani, who came over, flashing him her “tip me and you might get something” smile. Ethan smirked as he swigged from his beer. She was a lot of things, but perceptive when it came to orientation wasn’t one of them.

  “I’ll take a red wine please,” the man said.

  “Sure thing, cutie.” Avani turned and headed toward the bottles kept near Ethan. “He’s a hottie,” she murmured as she stooped to grab a burgundy.

  “He’s mine,” Ethan muttered back.

  “Damn it.” She made a show of struggling with the cork so she could stay by Ethan longer. “Want me to sound him out?”

  “If you would.”

  She pulled the cork with a pop, then headed back to the man and poured him a glass. As he sipped at it, she began cleaning glasses, ignoring other customers trying to get her attention.

  “I’ve not seen you in here before, have I?”

  The man shook his head, his blond hair swishing lightly. “First time.”

  “Well, the place is nice. Cheap booze, good music, some good-looking patrons.” She winked. “You’ll fit right in.”

  “Uh, thanks. Worked here long?”

  “Long enough.” She thrust out a hand. “I’m Avani, by the way.”

  The man put down his glass and took the offered hand. “Conor. Nice to meet you.”

  “You, too. Local?”

  “Yeah. Just not much of a bar person.”

  “I see. Work around here, too?”

  That’ll do. Geez. Ethan held up his beer and Avani turned to look.

  “Excuse me,” she said to Conor. “Someone wants a drink.”

  She sauntered back toward Ethan and leant in close as she fetched him a new beer.

  “That enough?”

  “Yeah, that’ll do. Scram.”

  “You got it, boss.” She winked. “Just don’t be late for the meeting.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Avani disappeared down to the other end of the bar, and Ethan took a small breath, then stood and moved over to the next stool. The man’s eyes widened for the briefest of moments, but he smiled to try and cover any surprise. How to go about this...

  “Conor, right? Heard you talking to Avani.”

  “That’s me, yeah.” Conor took a swig of his wine. “Nice place.”

  “Thanks.” He smiled as the man frowned at his response. “I’m the owner.”

  “Oh!” Conor laughed. “Then it’s a really nice place.”

  The pair caught each other’s gaze, and Conor’s clouded for a moment, as if in recognition.

  “You okay?” Ethan said.

  “Hmm? Oh, yeah, sorry. Your eyes reminded me of someth—uh, someone.”

  “Ah.” Ethan took a sip of beer. “So, I take it you’re either new to gay bars, or new to being gay entirely.”

  Conor nearly choked on his wine. “Is it that obvious?”

  Ethan shrugged. “Maybe not to all, but I’ve run a bar for a long time, and dated for even longer. I can spot the signs.”

  “So you’re, uh...”

  “Gay?” Ethan nodded. “Hence me trying to chat you up.”

  Conor started to colour. “Oh, right.”

  * * * *

  Conor tried to stop himself blushing, but he’d have had more luck turning his wineglass into a popsicle. It was the man’s eyes. They reminded him of the wolf’s so much that he had to restrain a shudder. He wasn’t entirely sure that the shudder was an unpleasant one, though.

  The man was older than him, probably by ten years or so, but that didn’t bother Conor much. Age brought experience, after all, and what more could a newbie want? His close-cropped hair didn’t show even a single strand of gray, but it didn’t look coloured. He had a serious face, but laughter lines gave away his softer side. His hands were those of a man who had seen hard work. Conor tried not to stare at the one wrapped around his beer bottle. The thought of those hands holding him while the man...No wonder he was blushing!

  He gulped back his wine and gestured to the barmaid. No w
onder she had been so friendly. She was getting information for her boss. She was busy with another order, but she nodded to tell him she’d seen his hand.

  “So.” Conor turned back to Ethan. “Um.” He laughed. “You’re right. I’m new to this.”

  “Bars? Or both?”

  “Both.” He cleared his throat. “Is that a problem?”

  Ethan smirked. “Bonus. I’m a big fan of taking charge.”

  Oh boy. Conor tried to swig more wine then remembered the glass was empty. “That’s, uh, good.” He tried to ignore the sensation of his cock straining against his pants. “After years being the one doing the work, letting someone else do it is appealing.”

  Okay, the wine had certainly kicked in. He couldn’t believe he’d just said that. Ethan didn’t seem to mind, though, and instead placed his hand on Conor’s bulging pants. Conor bit his lip as the man’s fingers worked his zipper down and slid underneath the fabric.

  “Well now,” Ethan said, his voice deeper. “Someone’s a big boy, and it ain’t me for once.”

  Conor let out a surprised gasp as strong fingers pushed through the front of his boxers and ran along the length of his rapidly hardening cock. For such a big hand, Ethan’s movements were soft, almost loving, as he pulled Conor’s foreskin back with practised movements.

  “Should...” Conor took a breath and glanced around. “Shouldn’t we be somewhere more private?”

  “Where’s more private than my own property?” He moved his hand a little quicker. “Who’s going to kick us out?”

  “True, but, uh, people.” Conor gripped the edge of the bar and let out a shaky breath. “Someone could see.”

  The movements stopped, and Ethan withdrew his hand. He straightened and shrugged. “I’ve got a few hours. How about I show you my office upstairs?”

  Conor swallowed, then glanced about once more to make sure nobody had seen anything. The coast looked clear. He zipped his pants back up and used the time to think quickly. On one hand, this was a stranger, in a bar he’d never been in before, and nobody he knew was aware he was here, other than his boss. On the other hand, he was hard, horny as fuck, and really wanted Ethan to finish what he had started.