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

Zeus’s Pack 3

LYNN HAGEN

Copyright © 2011

Chapter One

Trevor drove down Route 14, the music bumping his favorite rap song as he threw his left hand in the air, rapping along with Pistol Grip Pump.

Trevor pulled into the podunk town and palmed the wheel, turning into the parking spot behind some tavern called Theo’s Bar and Grill. He wasn’t sure where he was. The sign he had passed a mile back said he was entering Pride Pack Valley. Trevor shut his car off, and the music died.

It was well after ten at night, prime time for him in the darkness because he was hungry as fuck and needed to eat. He crept behind the Dumpster, seeing the back door open to the tavern, only a thin screen door in the way, but he was able to see inside.

The prime piece of meat washing dishes was perfect. He cleared his throat and whimpered loud enough to get his meal’s attention. The dishwasher stopped what he was doing and came to the screen door, looking out into the back parking lot. Trevor whined again, imitating a hurt animal. His food pushed the door open and he walked out.

Trevor raced to the door with unbelievable speed, grabbing the man and pulling him to the side of the Dumpster.

This was too easy.

He sank his fangs into flesh, drinking heavily as the heady nectar began to ease the incredible pain in his stomach.

“Please,” the man cried. “Don’t hurt me.”

Trevor’s hunger began to ebb away. His stomach finally stopped hurting as he eased off of the man. He licked the wound closed and was mentally knocked on his ass when the sweetest aroma permeated his lungs.

“Mine!”

“Please, I don’t have any money, but I could feed you.” The small man whined, curling around Trevor’s arm into a ball.

Trevor stood there blinking, trying desperately to clear his mind. There was no fucking way this human was his mate. His hand instinctively began to soothe the smaller man’s back, shushing him as he pulled him close to his chest. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Y–You’re not?”

“No, baby, I was just hungry. I’m sorry for scaring you.” Trevor nuzzled his mate’s hair, inhaling his intoxicating scent. “What’s your name, darling?”

“Sammy.”

Trevor moved back beside the Dumpster when a large man came to the screen door, opening it and looking around. “Sammy, you out here?”

He clamped a hand over his mate’s mouth, stopping him from calling out. Sammy nuzzled into Trevor’s hand, and he removed it, petting his mate’s hair to keep him calm.

“Sammy!” the large man shouted again. When his mate didn’t answer, the man cursed and almost ripped the door from the hinges as he stormed inside. Trevor knew he had only moments before reinforcements came looking for Sammy.

“Come with me, little darling.”

“I can’t. I have to work, or I won’t get paid,” Sammy said in a panic.

“I have money. You don’t need to work.”

“But I promised Jesse and Theo I would do it.” His little man struggled to free himself. “Please.”

Trevor studied him for a moment and then nodded, releasing him. “Where do you live?”

His mate pointed above the tavern to a set of darkened windows. “Up there.”

“Come back out here when the place closes.”

“Okay.”

“Promise me, little darling.”

“I promise.” Sammy grinned at him and then ran back into the tavern, a loud voice asking him where he had taken off to. Trevor wanted to claw the man’s throat out for raising his voice to his mate, but he climbed back into his car instead and settled back.

A few hours later the back door opened, and Sammy stuck his head out, his eyes darting around as he looked for Trevor.

Trevor smiled. His mate was adorable. He reminded him of a mouse with his squeaky little voice and short stature.

He opened his car door, the interior light illuminating him. Sammy grinned widely when Trevor stepped out and walked over to him. “Can I come up?”

“But I don’t know you.” Sammy slid out of the back door and stood against the brick wall, his hands twisting together in front of him.

Trevor reached out and stilled his hands. “My name is Trevor, and I won’t harm you, I promise, little darling.”

His mate’s bottom lip poked out. “I’m not a little darling. I’m a grown man.”

Trevor chuckled at Sammy’s peeved statement. “I’m sure you are, little darling.”

“Then why do you keep calling me that?” the man asked irritably.

Trevor shrugged, leaning against the wall next to him. “Because you’re so short.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. The need to touch his mate was strong, and Sammy was too skittish right now. He wasn’t sure what happened to the trusting man from earlier, but Trevor was glad Sammy was on guard. He didn’t want his mate following blindly behind anyone, not even him.

Sammy glared at him. “You’re mean,” he said as he yanked the door open. Trevor reached out to stop him, gently seizing his wrist.

“I wasn’t trying to be.”

“I still don’t know you, so you can’t come upstairs. It’s late, good night.” His mate pulled his hand free and yanked the door open, stomping through it. Trevor let him go.

He grinned widely. Sammy had fire. He liked that. No matter if the little rebel went inside, Trevor would keep coming back until his mate trusted him. He had waited too long to find the little bugger to let him just walk away.

* * * *

Sammy raced around collecting the dishes from the tables. It was Friday night and busy as heck. He wasn’t complaining, though. After being kicked out of his own home and left with no money, he was grateful for the job.

He squeaked when yet another hand reached behind him and pinched his bottom. Sammy hurried to clear the table, wanting to get away from the wandering hand. Men did that a lot here—and even some women had as well.

He didn’t like it, and it was unwelcomed. But what could he do? They were paying customers, and he was terrified of losing his job if he complained, so he kept his mouth shut and endured it.

Sammy ran the bin of dirty dishes to the kitchen and dumped them into the hot water. Once he had them cleaned and put away, he was off again to clear more tables and deal with more lobster claws pinching at his backside.

By the time his break came, his legs were sore from running and his bottom was sore from being pinched. No one should have to deal with unwanted touching, and it made Sammy feel helpless because there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.

He sat at the small table Theo had placed in the kitchen for him to use on his breaks and nibbled on his chicken wings. The one good thing about working here was that he was able to eat for free. That was a huge benefit with the budget he had to work with.

Sammy tossed his dinner scraps into the trash and placed the dish in the sink. Steeling himself, he went back to work. He rushed over to the booths and cleared away the dirty dishes and then wiped down the table while customers waited to be seated. On his way back to the kitchen with a full pan, he tripped, dropping the dishes and sprawling out on the floor.

The need to cry out his frustration was close, real close, but he did his best to keep the waterworks at bay. Sammy swallowed around the lump in his throat and began to clean up his mess, cursing mentally about the pay that would be deducted to replace the dishes he broke.

“Do you need help?”

Sammy glanced up, and his vision was morphed into a narrow tunnel. The only other inhabitant in his vision besides himself was this rather large man who had the voice of a deep river running through his brain. It was strong, yet soothing to hear.

He stared at the stranger’s eyes that sparkled like ice under a brilliant sun and a smile that made his heart beat out of control like an avalanche racing down a mountainside. No longer was he in Theo’s Bar and Grill but lying in his own peaceful meadow of wishful thinking.

“Are you all right?”

“No.” The truth slipped out before Sammy had a chance to stop it. A man of this significance would never care to hear what his life was like. He dropped his eyes, clearing the shattered plates up before a customer could hurt themselves on it.

“Let me help you.”

“No.” He wanted the man to go away and not stoop there reminding him of what he could never have. “I can manage. It’s my job.” The lump in his throat was back, and Sammy once again cursed it.

“Just because it’s your job doesn’t mean you couldn’t use some help.” Large hands began to clear away the glass. Sammy stared at them hypnotically, dreaming of what they would feel like running over his skin or holding him tenderly.

Sammy’s frustrations mounted, and a tear slipped out, and then another. He jumped up and ran to the kitchen, mortified that he had allowed himself to break down in front of such a handsome man. It wasn’t the stranger’s fault that Sammy was turning into a basket case and that his life felt like he was going nowhere fast with a bruised behind to lead the way.

His palms hit the screen door, and Sammy fled to the side of the Dumpster, sitting on the ground and wrapping his arms around his knees. He couldn’t get the tears to stop, and that frustrated him even more, which in turn made him cry more. It was a catch twenty-two that Sammy desperately wanted to get out of.

“Hey, little darling, what’s wrong?”

Sammy’s breath hitched. He didn’t need this right now. He scrambled to his feet and ran around the building onto Trenton Street, unsure of where he was running to, and at this point, his mind ceased caring.

He cried out when a strong arm grabbed him around the waist and lifted him off of his feet.
Not again.

“Calm down.”

It was the voice from inside the restaurant. Sammy cried even harder. All the pent-up feelings he had been holding inside came rushing out. His broken relationship, his destitution, his sexual harassment, and his tired feet had built up inside of him until the volcano erupted and tears flowed in a plethora of heartache.

“Shush, you tell ole Knox what’s troubling you.”

Sammy shook his head, not willing to burden the stranger with his problems. “I want to go home,” he sobbed.

“Tell me where it is and I’ll take you.”

Sammy pointed to the windows above the tavern. It wasn’t the place he had been referring to, but his ex-boyfriend, Connolly, would never take him back, so he had to settle for the apartment.

Sammy held his hands over his eyes as Knox carried him inside and asked Theo how to get up there.

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, just a bit rattled.”

Sammy felt Knox ascending the steps, carrying him across the threshold, and then sitting on his lumpy couch. A large hand soothed his back, still shushing him.

“What’s your name?”

“S–Sammy.” He sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Sammy.”

Sammy gathered the courage and looked up into Knox’s beautiful eyes once more. He was stunned to find so much concern in them. Why would someone like Knox care about him? “I guess I hate to see dishes break.”

The chuckle was like biting into chocolate, an instant rush, so gratifying. Sammy closed his eyes and listened as he enjoyed it.