Chapter Seven

BEAR THE BURDEN

Midnight Falls 25

LYNN HAGEN

Copyright ? 2024

Chapter One

" H e r e you go." Wesley set the tray of pizza on the table, ignoring the throbbing ache in his leg and hoping it didn't turn into one of his bad days. Luckily, working at Papa's Pizza Nest didn't require a lot of walking, except when he had to take orders to the six tables in the dining area.

"It looks so good," the woman said. "Thank you."

The guy sitting across from her just smiled at Wesley before the couple turned their attention to their food. Wesley headed away, his sole focus on the chair behind the counter and the little bit of relief he would gain when he took a seat.

"Oh, hey, excuse me," the guy called out.

Gritting his teeth to stifle the cry of pain from turning so quickly, Wesley stared at him. "Yes?"

"We didn't get our drinks," he pointed out with a friendly smile.

"Sorry, I'll bring them right away." So much for my small reprieve.

The guy nodded before Wesley once again headed toward the counter. Each step felt like a sharp needle was plunging into the sole of his foot, the pain radiating all the way up his leg and curling around his hip.

By the time he made it to where he'd left their drinks, Wesley was coated in a fine sheen of sweat and taking shallow breaths.

Definitely a bad day and getting worse. He curled his hand around the edge of the counter, lifting his leg to take some of the pressure off of it.

"Hey, Mike," Wesley said when he spotted the parttime employee who pitched in wherever needed. "Can you take these drinks to the table with the couple?"

Looking past Wesley, Mike squinted until his blue eyes had become slits. Did the guy need glasses? "There's several tables with couples, Wes."

How many times had he asked Mike not to call him that? It was the name his dad used when he was in one of his foul moods. Jackson Miller had ruined the nickname for Wesley.

"The one with the dude wearing the black shirt." Wesley grimaced, the pain still not easing even though he stood with one leg raised like he was about to perform a kick to someone's chest.

"Yeah, all right, but you owe me." Mike grabbed the drinks and walked around him, wearing an expression that said Wesley could've done it himself.

How did he owe the guy just for carrying drinks to a table? And if Wesley could have done it himself, he would have. He hated relying on other people, and Mike's attitude made him feel like a burden.

As soon as he walked away, Wesley limped to the side room that held the utility sink and a hodgepodge of items Cyrus, the owner, stored in there. It was basically an oversized closet, but it afforded Wesley the privacy he needed to pull out his prescription bottle of pain killers.

He didn't like taking them while he was at work, but the pain in his leg was getting worse the longer he walked on it. On the large metal storage shelf was a bag of plastic cups tucked among an array of other things. Wesley wrestled one free and filled it with water from the sink then downed two pills.

They usually took effect within thirty minutes, which meant he had another half an hour of pain to deal with.

After tossing the cup into the small trash can, he limped out of the room and headed straight toward his stool, still thinking about Mike's expression.

The guy knew Wesley had a limp, though he didn't know why. Only Cyrus did, but even his boss had no idea how he'd been injured.

Wesley hadn't gone into details when he'd applied for the job, though he'd brought the letter from his doctor with him. It gave a generic description of his disability, which Wesley had done on purpose.

That was one good thing about developing a friendship with his doctor of two years. He could ask Dr. Baldwin to do him small favors. Wesley didn't want everyone knowing the tragedy he'd survived. It was no one's business.

With everyone in the dining area taken care of, Wesley set to work slicing fresh mushrooms on the lower half of the raised bar counter. Normally, this task would be done in the kitchen behind him, but Cyrus had made exceptions for Wesley due to his difficulty standing for long periods of time. Although it was a simple task, it brought Wesley a sense of calm.

Cyrus took pride in using only the best and freshest ingredients in his pizzas and other menu items, evident by the incredible flavors that filled every bite. Wesley had gained at least three pounds since he'd started working there a month ago.

That might seem like an insignificant number, but it wasn't to him. Since the "incident" two years ago, Wesley struggled to gain weight. Between his medications, dealing with Jackson, and his own fluctuating moods, he rarely had an appetite.

His hand stilled when he felt eyes on him. With a frown, he glanced up to find a man standing there, his beefy arms crossed on the upper portion of the raised counter. His smoky-gray eyes twinkled with mischief.

"Never startle someone with a sharp knife in their hand," the stranger said with a teasing smile. His deep voice was like honey dripping over velvet, and Wesley was instantly in lust with the sound.

"Um, one moment." Setting his knife aside, Wesley lifted the small cutting board and scraped the sliced mushrooms into a small food pan then covered it with a lid.

"What can I get for you?" Curling his lips in to hide his grimace, Wesley stood. The pain wasn't as bad, but it still shot through his leg.

The stranger stood to his full height, which was impressively tall.

When Wesley finally got a good look at the stranger, he found himself staring at raw, unfiltered masculinity. Holy crap. The man's dark hair was styled in a tousled cut, and his face held sharp contours in his cheekbones and jawline.

Wesley's gaze slid lower, skimming over a physique of sculpted muscles. Good lord. Could the guy's T-shirt stretch any harder over his mouthwatering body?

Stop eye-banging his muscles.

Ripping his eyes away from the stranger's chest, Wesley stared into his smoky-gray eyes. The man's smile vanished, and now he just stood there gazing at Wesley as if hypnotized.

Suddenly, Wesley felt as if he'd known this man forever. It was a strange feeling, but it was there, in the center of his chest.

"Sir?" Wesley had no idea why he felt that way. "What can I get for you?" he repeated.

"Do you need me to smack you in the back of the head to reboot your brain?" the guy next to Smoky Eyes asked.

Wesley just now noticed someone else was standing there. The two shared enough similar features that he assumed they were related.

"You can get me your phone number, handsome," Smoky Eyes said with a sexy grin that flattened Wesley. It was the kind of smile that granted him instant access to a lot of erotic fantasies.

"At least let me order some food before you start flirting, Hyett," the guy next to him said. Then he looked at Wesley. "Can I get a large, cheesy-crust pizza with pepperoni, ham, bacon, and Italian sausage?"

Wesley quickly grabbed the order pad lying close to a stack of napkins, hoping he didn't forget what the guy had just said.

"Also," he continued, "I'd like your sixteen-wing order."

"What sauce?" he asked, trying his best to ignore Hyett. Even though Wesley was looking down, he still felt the man's penetrating gaze.

And secretly, he liked it.

"The hottest you have," the guy replied. "And an order of your cheesy-garlic breadsticks with marinara dipping sauce. I'd like a Coke, too." He turned to Hyett. "What do you want?"

This had to be a to-go order the man was going to share with others. There was no way one person could eat that much. Grant it, he was even bulkier than Smoky Eyes, an inch or two taller, with just as much muscle, but still… Who would go through so much trouble to achieve a body like his, only to wreck it with such unhealthy food?

"I'll take a calzone with extra pepperoni and an order of those breadsticks my brother ordered, with the same dipping sauce. Also, the same number of wings, but with honey-barbeque sauce, and a bottled water." The side of Hyett's mouth curled into a sweet smile. "And I still need your phone number and your name, if you don't mind."

"Wesley," he found himself saying even before he knew the word was forming. There was no denying how attracted he was to Hyett, but Wesley didn't flirt, let alone date, and least of all become intimate.

Not after the disaster he'd suffered through the last time he'd had sex. More like tried to have it. One night, a year and a half ago, he'd gone home with some rando from a bar. The guy had taken one look at Wesley's leg, and the most crude, heartless things had flown from his mouth.

But it was being called a monster that had gut-punched Wesley the hardest. Since then, he'd given up trying to become intimate with anyone. He didn't even wear shorts, no matter how hot it was.

He was not putting himself through that again, especially with someone as gorgeous as Hyett. "You two can take a seat if you want. Your orders should take roughly twenty minutes."

"What about your phone number, Wesley?" Hyett sounded sincere, and Wesley was attracted to him, but it wasn't going to happen.

"Dude, he's clearly not interested," the brother said. "Why are you pushing it?"

"Back off, Killian." There was a slight growl to Hyett's voice, which made Wesley move even faster, momentarily forgetting to hide his limp. Jackson used that same tone, which told him Hyett had a temper.

Now he knew for certain Hyett wasn't getting his number, although he hadn't planned on giving it out anyway.

"Why are you moving so fast?" Cyrus asked when Wesley entered the kitchen with the ticket he could have easily handed through the order window.

He didn't answer his boss, just went straight for the stool next to the stainless-steel workstation. Unfortunately, his leg buckled under him, and he crashed to the floor with a cry of pain.

Cyrus was at his side in seconds, squatting as he helped Wesley to sit up. "How bad?"

"Bad." Wesley closed his eyes while gripping his leg, wishing the pills he'd taken would kick in. The fall had caused the pain to go from shooting needles to an inferno from hell, and all he could do was rock back and forth while gritting his teeth as an anguished whimper rolled through his throat.

* * * *

"What in the hell was that about?" Killian demanded as the human limped away. "When did you start acting like a pushy asshole, Hyett?"

Limped away. His mate had some sort of disability, which only made him want to protect the guy. Hyett had been leaning on the raised portion of the counter, watching the way the human meticulously sliced the mushrooms in a peaceful rhythm.

He had been lulled by it, until he realized it wasn't the rhythmic chopping that entranced him but the guy himself. The beautiful man had artfully styled dark brown hair bordering on black and wore an adorable, focused expression like he was determined to make each slice the exact same size.

Then it hit Hyett that he was staring at his mate.

Suddenly, his entire world had reshaped to center around the man seated in front of him, even though he'd yet to learn his mate's name.

When he heard Wesley shout in what sounded like pain, Hyett took off around the counter and headed toward the back. His mate was sitting on the floor, rocking back and forth, his handsome face in a painful grimace as he made wounded animal sounds.

"What happened?" He hunkered next to Wesley and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"He fell." Cyrus glanced at him. "You really shouldn't be back here, Hyett. Thanks for your concern, but I can handle this."

"It's not your job to handle." He and the wolf shifter stared at each other for a moment before a knowing look entered the man's eyes.

"Gotcha." Cyrus nodded. "Recently?"

"Just now." Hyett ran his hand up and down Wesley's slim back, knowing his touch would help. "Is the pain easing up, Wesley?"

"I-I think the medication is finally starting to work." His features began to relax, and his rocking became less manic. It wasn't the medication alone. It was also Hyett's touch.

"Medication? Wesley, I asked you to let me know if you had to take it," Cyrus said in gentle chastisement. "That way I know to keep an eye on you."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you." Wesley's tone was a little biting. "But I don't need a babysitter. I'm perfectly functional with or without pain killers."

Wesley had a lot of stubborn pride, which was fine, but Cyrus was right. There were too many hazards around them, and Wesley could have gotten hurt, aside from falling.

"I didn't fall from the medication," Wesley argued as if he'd read Hyett's thoughts. "It happened because my leg gave out." He looked at Cyrus. "Why is he back here? You shouldn't be discussing my personal business with him."

Hyett and Cyrus frowned at the same time.

"Wesley, you're the one discussing it," the wolf shifter pointed out. "All I said was that you fell."

"Shit." Wesley rested the heel of his hand against his forehead. "Would it be okay if I went home?"

"Yeah." Cyrus nodded even though Wesley wasn't looking at the guy. "Hyett can take you since you're in no condition to drive."

Wesley dropped his hand and stared at his boss. He wouldn't even look Hyett's way. "You're telling me to take a ride from someone I don't even know? I've driven in worse pain. I can manage."

Hyett had zero knowledge of humans on medication, but he was hoping it was the reason his mate was rejecting him. Although he doubted even medication would stop Wesley from feeling the pull. The prescribed drugs might dull it, but the guy was acting as if it was completely absent.

The wolf shifter glanced at Hyett with a look that said he wasn't going to push Wesley. Honestly, Hyett didn't want to either, but his mate wasn't getting behind the wheel in his condition.

Wesley tried to push from the floor with little success. Every time he tried, he ended up back on his ass. That only proved he didn't need to be behind the wheel of a car.

"I don't mind taking you." Hyett spread his arms, ready to catch his mate if he fell backward. "Cyrus can vouch that I'm a good guy." Most of the time. Hyett wasn't a saint, but he wasn't the devil, either. He was a bear shifter who lived with his father and two brothers, and they'd seen their fair share of trouble, sometimes causing it, over the past few centuries.

But the Everhart men were loyal, decent shifters who helped those who needed it and hurt those who fucked with their family and the people they cared about.

"Can you help me to my feet?" Wesley asked his boss, continuing to ignore Hyett like he wasn't even there.

Hyett clenched his jaw, pushing aside the hurt. This wasn't about him right now. It was about stopping Wesley from driving. He didn't know how far his mate lived from Papa's, but what if the pain became worse and he veered off the road? What if the medication caused him to crash?

Why won't my mate look at me?

Cyrus helped Wesley to his feet, giving Hyett an apologetic look. Even the wolf shifter felt the rejection and knew that was the worst thing a preternatural could experience when they found their mate.

A mate was the most precious person to a nonhuman. Wesley was Hyett's one shot at true happiness, his future, the one person who would make him feel whole.

And the guy wants nothing to do with me .

Wesley limped toward the entrance to the dining area, shaking off Cyrus's hand when his boss tried to help.

When Wesley was out of sight, Hyett turned to the wolf. "What's wrong with his leg?"

The guy shrugged. "When I interviewed him, he gave me a letter from his doctor, but all it said was that he had a leg injury and was restricted to limited duties. I didn't hire him because he's disabled. I did it because he had this determined look in his eye."

The same look Hyett had just seen. "Thanks," he said before he hurried away to stop his mate from getting into his car.

He had hurried for nothing. Wesley was already outside, but he simply stood there staring at a black sedan with his mouth dropped open slightly. When Hyett joined him on the sidewalk, he saw the driver's side front tire was flat.

Glancing around, he spotted his brother inside the shop, gazing at the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in the world to him.

"You did this, didn't you?" Wesley scowled at him.

"Me?" Hyett stared disbelievingly at the guy. "I was with you inside. How could I have done this?"

Turning, Wesley looked through the pizza shop window. Killian rubbed the back of his neck, gazing at the large pizza artwork on the wall. Hyett groaned. His brother was about as subtle as a bank robber holding a bag of cash while telling the cops he was innocent.

"Is this some kind of sick game you two play?" Wesley snarled. "Pick an injured guy and fuck with him?"

"What in the hell is your problem?" Hyett snapped, finally having enough of his mate's snide attitude. "I've been nothing but nice to you, Wesley. It's not rude to ask a handsome guy for his phone number or try to help him when he falls. You act as if I'm your enemy. Why?"

"I just…" Wesley pivoted, like he was about to walk away, but his leg buckled and he stumbled. Hyett shot forward and grabbed the guy before he hit the ground.

"I gotcha," he murmured, and damn if it didn't feel good to hold his mate. Wesley instantly relaxed, although he wasn't sure the guy even realized it. "I'm not your enemy. It's okay to lean on someone if you need to."

"I'm not helpless," Wesley said in a calmer tone, but he still refused to look at Hyett.

"Nobody said you were," he replied. "You seem pretty independent to me. Stubborn, but making it on your own." Hyett saw how important independence was to his mate, and he had no intention of taking that away from him. But he would be damned if he saw Wesley struggling and not step in to help.

"Can you let me go?" Wesley asked.

Hyett didn't want to. He liked having his mate in his arms. "Only if you'll look at me."

He sensed that Wesley had to use concentrated effort to turn his head and glance at him. Then Hyett saw it in his mate's beautiful eyes. The flare of desire. He wasn't sure why Wesley was fighting the attraction between them, but Hyett had no doubt it was there.

Thank fuck.

But just because Wesley desired him didn't mean the guy wasn't still rejecting him. "Why are you fighting it, hon?"

There was a vulnerable look in the human's eyes, echoing his fears and pain, but then it vanished to be replaced once again by stubborn determination. "I looked at you. Can you please let me go now?"

Hyett had an uphill battle with his mate, but luckily, he wasn't one to back down from a challenge.

Chapter Two

It had to be the pain making Wesley act this way. He wasn't a mean guy. In fact, he was the opposite. But it was also fear that had him pushing Hyett away when all he wanted to do was pull the gorgeous man toward him.

Wesley was even avoiding looking at Hyett because, why should he gaze at someone he could never be with? The way that rando had crushed Wesley's self-esteem when he'd already felt at his lowest point wasn't something he could recover from.

"You're still holding me," he pointed out, even though it felt so damn good to have someone's, anyone's, arms around him. It was just him and his dad, and his father sure as hell didn't hug him. Not since before…

Human beings were social creatures, as well as tactile. There were times when all Wesley wanted was a hug, someone to hold him when he was feeling so damn lonely.

And now that he had strong arms around him, he was pushing the guy away. He wished his brain would make up its mind.

Hyett's smile robbed Wesley of his breath. "I guess I am."

Finally, the guy let him go, and Wesley instantly missed the warmth. He wanted those freaking arms back around him so badly.

"I promise I had nothing to do with your tire going flat," Hyett said. "How do you know it didn't just lose air?"

He didn't. Although Hyett's brother looked guilty as hell, Wesley didn't have any proof. "I'm just… I'm sorry I acted that way. That's not like me."

Wesley needed to get home because he was a little too high. He'd been so busy trying to rid himself of the pain that he hadn't paid attention to which bottle he had in his hand or even the appearance of the pills.

While Wesley's medication was legit, Jackson's wasn't. His father's insurance had stopped paying for them because they were no longer covered under his current plan.

Which caused Jackson to find other, not-so-legit avenues to obtain pain relief. Although Wesley despised going to get them for his dad, it was better than dealing with his father without them.

Unfortunately, Wesley had taken his father's pills by accident, and they were starting to kick in. He had no idea exactly what might happen, but if he didn't get home by the time they took full affect, he might do things he would regret.

Like beg Hyett to sleep with him.

"You can give me a ride home." Wesley had no other choice if he wanted to make it home to the safety of his bedroom before shit got crazy.

Hyett pulled out his cell phone.

"What're you doing?" Wesley wrinkled his nose.

"Texting my brother and telling him to call the house for a ride. And to take my food with him but to keep his paws off of it." Hyett focused on his text while Wesley swung his head toward the window and watched as the brother threw his arms up with a comically exasperated look on his face.

"I don't think he's happy."

"Hon, for all I care, he can change into a bear and tromp his way home through the woods." Hyett winked at him.

What an odd thing to say . Even so, Wesley chuckled. Shit. He needed to get home. He knew he should have made a pit stop at home to drop off the pills before he'd driven to work.

His body started buzzing, and his jaw began to tingle. Wesley blinked a few hundred times at the brother, who simply stared at him with a cheesy grin.

"My ride's this way," Hyett said, but Wesley couldn't make his body move. He was stuck, unable to even look away from the brother.

Oh boy.

Suddenly, he was looking at a muscular chest. Forcing his gaze upward, Wesley stared into the prettiest smoky eyes.

"Are you okay?" Hyett frowned. "Why are you eyeballing my brother?" he asked with a hint of a snarl.

" He was eyeballing me !"

Maybe… Wesley wasn't sure who started staring at who first. He scrunched his face, not liking this feeling at all. His medication mellowed him out and took away the pain.

The stuff his dad bought… What was he just thinking? Wesley lost his train of thought. "What was I just thinking about?"

He was back to staring at Hyett's chest. The guy was too tall, and Wesley didn't want to keep tilting his head back to look at him.

Hyett squatted, lowering his body until they were at eye level. The guy studied him. "Are you high?"

Wesley laughed and then grew quiet. "No."

"Jesus." Hyett stepped behind Wesley, gripped both upper arms, then guided him to a shiny dark blue SUV. He opened the passenger door and helped Wesley into his seat before buckling him in. "Maybe you should talk to your doctor about lowering your dosage, Wesley. I think it's too high."

Now all Wesley could concentrate on was Hyett's really nice hair. The guy knocked something off of the center console and bent to get it off the passenger floor.

"While you're down there…" Wesley curled his lips in.

Hyett simply turned his head, still bent over, and arched a brow. "Say that to me when you're sober and I'll gladly bend between your legs."

"You say that now," Wesley murmured.

He really wished his body would stop floating and the buzzing in his head would shut the hell up. Despite picking up the pain pills for his dad, this was the first time he'd taken them, by accident, and he'd taken two of them no less.

But damn, this was how his father felt when he popped them? How in the hell did he function? Wesley wanted them to wear off this instant.

Hyett cupped Wesley's jaw and turned his head to lock gazes with him. "You're baked, hon. And you said you can drive like this?"

Wesley snaked his tongue out and licked Hyett's finger. It tasted salty.

"Please stop licking me, baby." Heat flared in those smoky eyes.

"I'm giving you my phone number." He licked Hyett's hand again.

"Your tongue is not a pen." He traced the pad of his thumb over Wesley's bottom lip and brushed his fingers along the skin just under his ear.

Wesley knew that look. "You can kiss me."

A warm, sweet smile surfaced. "As tempting as your lips are, I would prefer you to have a clear head for our first kiss."

Hyett made sure Wesley's arm was tucked in before he closed the door. The pills' effect was getting even stronger. Wesley closed his eyes as the world spun around him, wishing Hyett would have kissed him.

* * * *

Hyett jumped into the driver's seat, knowing full well Killian wasn't put out that he had to call their dad or Ryker to come get him. Though he did owe his brother for letting some of the air out of Wesley's tires. Not all of it, because Killian knew it would fuck up the rims if he did that.

His quick action had saved Hyett from having to argue with the human about driving.

Speaking of… He didn't like how high his mate was. Hyett wasn't a stick in the mud, but Wesley was at his job, dealing with customers, and he could have seriously hurt himself.

"Tell me where you live, hon." He started the car then looked over at his mate.

Wesley was leaning against the door, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. Great. The guy was asleep. With a sigh, he called Killian.

"Is he all right?" his brother asked as soon as he answered. "He was looking at me all weird, like his brain had checked out. Don't get pissed at me, but he looked kind of high."

More than kind of . Wesley was in the zone. "He just fell asleep. Can you ask Cyrus to give me his address?"

"Oh, so he is high." Killian sounded relieved. "For a second, I thought… Never mind. Hang on."

Hyett had thought the same thing, that his mate had the hots for Killian. His bear had been ready to maul his own brother.

He watched Killian walk to the kitchen and heard him ask for Wesley's address. Since Wesley was asleep, Hyett took a really good look at him. There was a smattering of faint freckles over the bridge of his nose, and he had thick eyebrows that rested over pretty almond-shaped eyes.

Wesley was such a stunning man.

"Cyrus cursed because he just realized Wesley left the address portion of his application blank," Killian said. "What're you going to do?"

" He's my mate."

"I figured as much. Congratulations, bro," he said with sincerity. "He's also stubborn as shit and high as hell."

"Thanks, Captain Obvious."

"And a meanie."

Hyett growled. "You just had to add the last one."

"Don't get pissed at me because it's true." Killian walked to the window and waved at him with a shit-eating grin. Sometimes Hyett wondered about his siblings. He was the youngest, yet the other two were the ones who acted like juveniles.

"I'm going to take him home and hope like hell he doesn't freak out." Sober, his mate was as prickly as a cactus.

"Good luck with that, but since you're headed home, I might as well ride with you."

"You just called my mate a meanie. Walk home." Hyett reversed from the parking spot.

"Are you serious?" Killian growled.

"Dead." Hyett hung up and tossed his phone onto the center console. His phone chimed with a text as he drove down the street. Hyett grinned when he saw Killian sent him an exploding volcano and the middle finger.

Maybe next time he would keep his opinion to himself, even if he'd been right. He sent back the emoji with the puckered lips and the one with dark sunglasses.

A second later, his phone pinged again. This time Killian had sent him a GIF of someone throwing a punch. He wished the guy would come at him.

It had been a good minute since Hyett had had a good brawl. He thought he would have one roughly two months ago when he and his family had come to Midnight Falls to help out the Frosts, longtime family friends.

Too bad the goddamn vampires had played nice. Then he'd found out Jax, the guy he'd always gone on the prowl with to find some ass, had not only mated but would soon become a father.

So Hyett had gone solo to the bar. He'd scored, but he'd missed hanging out with the wolf shifter.

Jax ended up having twin boys. Cute little pups. Almost made Hyett want to become a dad, until one of their diapers had overflowed and the other one had thrown up on Jax.

Nope. Hyett was cool not having any responsibilities.

But he did now. His responsibility was sleeping off his high, and Hyett wanted to know why he needed those pills and what was wrong with his leg. To each his own, but Wesley was more than just buzzing along. He was stone-cold out of it. In Hyett's world, that was asking for trouble, especially if you had an enemy at your back.

Wesley might be human, but he was now a part of Hyett's world.

He headed up their long, winding driveway and pulled to the back of the house just as Ryker was walking outside.

"Did you really leave Killian in town?" His brother looked annoyed that he had to pick him up.

"He shouldn't have talked shit about my mate," Hyett said matter-of-factly as he parked and killed the motor.

Ryker stopped walking, his brows furrowing. "Did you just say mate?"

Clearly Killian had kept that to himself, allowing Hyett to tell his family. That was nice of him, but Hyett still didn't feel guilty for leaving him in town.

He got out and circled the front of the SUV, heading to the passenger side. Ryker walked over and looked inside the closed window. "Why is he unconscious?"

"He's sleeping off his high." Hyett scowled. He should have pulled Wesley off the door before he'd gotten out.

"Is there a reason your mate is high?" Ryker gestured toward the door. "I'll open it, you catch him."

"Pain killers. Something's wrong with his leg. His dosage is too fucking high, no pun intended." His mate was in a seatbelt, but Hyett didn't want his head to flop sideways when he slumped. The guy was already in enough pain.

When Ryker yanked open the door, Hyett quickly cradled Wesley's head in his hands. He was still out cold.

"I'd say so." Ryker glanced at him. "Congratulations. How did you meet him?"

"Works at Papa's." Hyett reached in and unsnapped his seatbelt. When he pulled it off his mate, Wesley curled snugly in the seat, causing his loose-fitting jeans to ride up a little, exposing his ankle and a few inches of skin above it.

Hyett saw patches of discoloration, some shiny spots no bigger than a dime, and a little scarring. Honestly, he was expecting a lot worse from the pain his mate was in.

But he now knew how his mate had gotten those scars. Hyett had seen skin like this before.

Fire.

"You go there for lunch and bring back a mate. I'm gonna go get the brother you abandoned." Ryker walked to his truck. "The next time you two have a spat, leave me out of it. He's going to be a bitchy bear the entire ride home."

"Tell him not to forget my damn food," he hollered as Ryker pulled away. Cyrus would put it on Hyett's tab, but Killian was paying for it if he ate it.

Turning back around, he gently pulled the fabric of Wesley's slacks up a little higher, exposing more of the same thing. If you asked him, his mate had healed pretty damn nicely.

Except for his pain, making Hyett wonder if there had been nerve damage or something else. He knew shit about humans and this kind of thing, but he was going to find out. He would research everything he could about leg burns so he could be better prepared to help his mate.

Releasing Wesley's pant leg, Hyett reclined the seat all the way back to make the guy more comfortable. Then he sat on the ground with his back to the car.

Moments later, his dad strode outside with the full kitchen trash bag. He glanced at Hyett, and then his gaze flickered to the car, but he kept going, disposing of the bag in one of the outside cans.

Hyett watched as his dad headed his way. He saw the moment Quinton noticed someone was in the passenger seat. "Do I need to get a shovel, son?"

Hyett chuckled.

"You're laughing, but I'm serious." He stopped a foot away and sniffed. "Human. He's skinny too. Accidental kill?"

Quinton asked because the Everharts didn't hurt anyone smaller than them, especially someone as thin and wiry as Wesley.

Hyett was tempted to see how far his dad would go with this. "And if it was?"

Okay, so he couldn't resist.

His dad squatted in front of him. " We'll take care of this. But first, tell me what happened."

God, he loved his dad.

Wesley moaned and shifted in the seat a little. Quinton frowned then scowled. "I should beat your ass for making me think you killed him."

"I should hug you for having my back." Hyett grinned. "Dad, this is my mate, Wesley."

Quinton stood and placed his hands on his hips, his expression once again confused. "Did you drug him to bring him home?"

"I'm taking that hug back. Jeez. Thanks for having so much confidence in me." Hyett pushed to his feet and dusted off his backside, explaining to his father what happened at Papa's.

"So why haven't you brought your mate inside so he can get the rest he needs? I'm pretty sure the seat of a car isn't doing his leg any favors."

Hyett glanced at his mate curled up like a kitten. He reached over and pulled the back of his shirt down when he noticed it had risen to show a few inches of flawless skin. "I already kidnapped him. I don't want him to freak out if he wakes up in my bed."

Sober Wesley was a cat with claws, and Hyett didn't want his mate rejecting him again.

"Then lay him on the couch," his dad said. "Don't make your mate sleep in a car."

Hyett really might need a shovel because his mate was going to kill him when he woke up.

No sooner had Hyett pulled his mate out of the car than Wesley's phone erupted with a parody of "Turn Down for What," only the lyrics had been changed to "Pick Up for Dad."

"Sounds like his father is calling him." Quinton moved in front of Hyett and opened the back door of the house for him.

Hyett had his mate partially over his shoulder. "Should I answer it?"

"I wouldn't." Quinton walked in behind him.

"What if his dad heard about what happened? It would be pretty fucked up to leave him worrying."

He lay Wesley down on the couch and used the throw blanket draped over the back to cover his mate's slim body.

"Don't you think he'd panic even more if a stranger answered his son's phone?" his dad asked.

He had a point. Hyett set the phone on the coffee table then took a seat on the couch, placing Wesley's feet over his thighs.

"I'll make sure no one disturbs the two of you while he gets some rest."

"Thanks, Dad." He rubbed gentle circles over his mate's ankles.

"No problem."

Hyett grabbed the remote and turned on the television as he waited for his mate to wake up.

Chapter Three

Wesley sighed, enjoying how good the massage on his calves felt. Someone was finally touching him, kneading the leg that had brought him nothing but misery.

As the strong yet gentle fingers worked his tense muscles and damaged nerves, Wesley wondered who those powerful hands belonged to.

Since the night of… Since then, there had always been a constant ache in his leg. Most days it was manageable. Other times, like earlier, he just wanted to die from the unbearable pain.

At that moment, he felt nothing. Not even a small twinge of discomfort. For the first time since he'd woken up in the hospital, Wesley felt as if his leg was normal.

And those fingers… So incredible. He never wanted them to stop. They made him feel whole again. He didn't want the massage to end because Wesley was desperate to feel the touch of another person. He'd craved it for so long.

Maybe if he pretended to be still asleep, they would continue to touch him. If so, he might be able to convince himself he wasn't a monster.

Wesley trapped a moan in his throat when the firm hands worked their way up to the back of his knee then kneaded their way down to the arch of his foot.

Where were his shoes? The question melted away as his skin turned into pliable dough, resulting in the best relaxation he'd ever experienced. He wasn't even sure how long he'd been out of it, but the rhythmic rotations of the deep tissue massage were lulling him back to sleep.

Just as he felt himself dozing, the sound of Jackson's ringtone disrupted the quietness. The tune abruptly stopped, accompanied by a soft curse.

Dad! Wesley hadn't taken the pills home, and he could only imagine the pain Jackson had to be in right now.

Shoving to his elbow, Wesley glanced around the unfamiliar room, and then his gaze landed on Hyett. The guy was on the other end of the couch, those smoky eyes watching him closely.

The gorgeous man Wesley had steadily pushed away, had been a complete asshole to, had just given him the most amazing pain-free moments since that horrific night.

Not even the massage therapist he'd seen six months ago had been able to achieve in an hour what Hyett had accomplished in just ten minutes.

"What am I doing at your house?" He assumed it was Hyett's place.

"You passed out before you gave me your address." His fingers flexed against Wesley's legs. "I tried to get it from your boss, but you left that part of your paperwork blank."

"It was an oversight." Wesley wasn't even sure why he'd purposely left it blank but was thankful he had. If Hyett had taken him home, the guy would've seen what Jackson was like without his pills.

An unhinged man with no brain-to-mouth filter. The most hateful words had been slung at Wesley more times than he could count when he hadn't gotten them to his dad on time.

Despite knowing it was the pain that caused his father to spew such vile things at him, the words still cut him deeply. Maybe Wesley was wrong for buying pills for his dad, but it was better than the alternative.

When Jackson's insurance stopped covering his pain meds, he'd found a guy he could get them from. But it was Wesley who paid for them and picked them up. Every time he entered Morton's house, he felt like prey wandering into a den of snakes.

Wesley could never just grab and go. Morton didn't want his neighbors to become suspicious, so the guy made him sit there for at least twenty minutes to make the visit seem legit.

They were the longest, most uncomfortable twenty minutes of Wesley's life. He always sat there terrified the place would be raided. It made him feel like a straight-up criminal.

Before his deep dive into the sketchy underbelly of the drug world, Wesley had never done anything illegal. Now he was making freaking drug runs for his father.

Wesley's phone erupted again. The tune used to make him bop around, but now he despised it.

Leaning over, he grabbed his phone and turned off the ringer so it would only vibrate, and then he set it back down. "Can you take me to my car? I swear I'm okay to drive now."

"Does your medication always effect you that way?" The pad of Hyett's thumb circled Wesley's ankle. If he kept doing that, Wesley would never get up. The guy's hand felt too damn good.

"I took an extra by mistake." Yet another lie, but what was he going to do? Tell Hyett he'd accidentally taken pain meds meant for his dad, which he'd bought from a goddamn drug dealer?

He patted Wesley's calf. "I'll take you to your car."

If he didn't have to deliver the pills to his dad, he wouldn't have moved a muscle. It was hands-down the most comfortable couch he'd ever laid on. Not only was it plush and soft but it had wider cushions, giving it a more spacious feel. As huge as Hyett was, Wesley could see the benefit of extra leg room.

Groaning, he sat up, thankful the pills had worn off. He never wanted to feel that way again. He spotted his shoes sitting neatly together on the floor in front of the coffee table. Wesley put them on then stood and stretched, feeling so much better since he'd finally gotten some decent sleep for the first time in forever.

When he bent to swipe his phone off the coffee table, Wesley noticed his leg had begun to throb again.

Now that he thought about it, his pain had significantly eased at work when Hyett had rested his hand on Wesley's shoulder.

Curious, he turned then pretended to stumble. Hyett caught him, and in a matter of seconds, the growing ache started to recede. How was that possible?

"Careful," Hyett murmured, his hands on Wesley's upper arms. "Are you sure you're steady enough to drive, hon?"

"Yep. I just tripped over my own feet." Wesley gave him a reassuring smile, though he was still totally baffled that a single touch could bring him so much relief.

Hyett flexed his fingers then dropped his hands and walked away. The ache started to throb softly right above Wesley's knee and in his calf.

Still bewildered, he followed after Hyett. They strolled into an incredible kitchen with dark cabinetry, marble countertops, and probably the largest kitchen windows Wesley had ever seen. They let in the fading sun that bathed the room in a soft glow.

Fading sun?

"What time is it?" Wesley asked just as his phone started to vibrate in his back pocket. If he didn't hurry up and deliver the pills to Jackson, his father was going to unleash a verbal assault on him that would leave Wesley even more scarred in the heart than he already was.

"A little after seven."

Wesley stopped short at the sound of the deep voice to his left. He turned his head and saw a massive guy standing at the counter. The stranger was even larger than Hyett and Killian, who looked like an older version of the two. This had to be their father or maybe an uncle.

"Wesley, this is my dad, Quinton," Hyett said. "Dad, this is Wesley."

"Nice to meet you," the guy said.

"Hi." Wesley couldn't stop marveling at just how large Quinton was. Midnight Falls had an abundance of tall, muscular men, but Hyett's father was even more colossal than Sheriff Harper. "How tall are you?" Wesley grimaced. He hadn't meant to blurt that out.

But Quinton didn't seem to take offense. In fact, he was smiling. "A whopping six-eight."

Holy fuck. How on earth could the guy breathe at such a high altitude? Clouds should have been drifting by his head.

"And you?" Quinton asked, but Wesley had a feeling he was just being polite in returning the question.

"A gigantic five-eight," Wesley replied teasingly. He turned to Hyett, who was watching him with amusement, something close to pride shining in his smoky eyes. "How about you?"

Hyett's muscles flexed, like he was preening for Wesley. Even though nothing would ever happen between them, Wesley liked how the man flirted with him. It made him feel desirable. "A measly six-six."

Wesley snorted. There wasn't anything measly about his height. There probably wasn't anything measly about his cock either. Unfortunately, Wesley would never find out.

"How are you feeling?" Quinton folded his bulky arms over his broad chest. Wesley felt sorry for anyone on the receiving end of the guy's beefy fists.

"Much better. Thank you for asking," Wesley replied, his mind still stuck on Hyett's cock size, though he briefly wondered if Quinton knew why he'd been asleep on their couch.

Then his thoughts went right back to Hyett's groin. Only now, Wesley was trying to picture the man naked with a hard, fat erection between his legs.

Had it suddenly grown hot in the kitchen? Shit! Wesley quickly averted his gaze, his face catching fire when he noticed Hyett grinning knowingly at him.

Busted.

"You're going to tell him why you scarfed down his food," Killian said as he and another guy strode through the back door, carrying at least half a dozen large pizza boxes and four plastic bags with the Papa's Pizza Nest logo on the front of them.

The other guy looked like the rest of Hyett's family, which meant he was related in some way. Probably their brother.

"You could have bought him some more while we were there," the brother replied.

The two stopped when they noticed Wesley. Then the other guy turned to Hyett. "Dude, I might have eaten your order from earlier, but dickhead said he wasn't replacing it since you abandoned him like a litter of kittens on some fire station steps."

" You ate it, so why should I be the one who pays to replace his food?" Killian argued, but Wesley noticed how the other guy was curiously staring at him.

"Because you insulted my mate," Hyett growled. "Consider yourself lucky I didn't run your hairy ass over instead of just leaving you in town, jackass."

Mate? Wesley wasn't sure if Hyett was referring to a friend or a lover. If it was the latter, why had the guy flirted with him and massaged his leg?

Wesley wasn't a poacher. If Hyett was taken, his partner needed to know what a lowlife the man was. And why did the thought of Hyett with someone else make his chest ache?

As Hyett and Killian argued, the other guy drew closer and grinned. "I'm Ryker, the eldest brother of Jackass One and Jackass Two."

"Hi, I'm Wesley." He furrowed his brows as he watched Killian and Hyett snarl at one another like they were about to exchange blows. Their faces were so close they were breathing each other's air. "Are they about to fight?"

He hoped not. One, Wesley didn't like violence, especially among family members. Two, their sheer sizes would demolish their beautiful kitchen.

"If they do, Killian deserves an ass-kicking for insulting you." Ryker stood there grinning at his siblings, as if he honestly hoped it would come down to that.

Wait. Hyett was referring to Wesley as his mate? The guy had to have been calling him a friend. "What insult?"

Hyett snarled at Ryker. Damn if that deep, rumbling sound didn't remind Wesley of an animal.

"All I said was that you were acting like a meanie," Killian said to Wesley. "How is the truth an insult?"

"One more word," Hyett warned in a low, threatening tone.

Wesley blinked at the two of them. "I was being an asshole. Not that it's any excuse, but I was in a lot of pain and took it out on Hyett, which I'm truly sorry for."

"See." Killian jerked his hand toward Wesley. "Even he admits it. And I said it before I found out he was your mate."

"Dude! You said it five seconds after I told you he was my mate, you goddamn liar," Hyett shot back.

Okay, now Wesley was certain it meant something other than friend. They were putting too much emphasis on it.

"What's a mate?" he asked Ryker.

The room fell silent, and although Hyett and Killian were still glaring at each other, no one answered him.

Snatching the pizza boxes from Killian, Ryker took them to the counter, where Quinton had started grabbing plates from one of the cupboards. Killian set the bags on the large table then grabbed some drinking glasses.

Nope, that wasn't suspicious at all.

Wesley glanced at Hyett. "Are you going to tell me or pretend you're suddenly too busy like your family is currently doing?"

One of the three stifled a laugh.

"Hang on, hon." Hyett grabbed a mega-sized plastic container and piled food inside of it. Then he tucked a stack of napkins under his arm before heading back to Wesley. "I had to rescue our food from those hungry bears."

Wesley wasn't an idiot. It was obvious Hyett and his family were hiding something. "Well?"

Hyett took a large bite of pizza then headed toward the back door. Wesley glanced toward the other three who were stuffing their faces while actively avoiding his gaze.

Fine. If no one wanted to answer him, he would just take his butt home. Once Hyett dropped him off, Wesley would never see them again anyway, so what did it matter to him if they refused to answer his question?

* * * *

Wesley stomped to the SUV and got in then folded his arms over his chest. Hyett sat in the driver's seat, chewing while he wondered the best approach to take.

It wasn't his family's place to answer Wesley. It was his, but Hyett was struggling on how to begin.

"Please, can you start the car so you can get me back to mine?" Wesley said with a bite.

Oh yeah. His mate was livid. Earlier, Wesley had been in pain and lashing out. This was different. He had a legitimate reason to be pissed.

After wiping his hands with a napkin, Hyett started the SUV. "A mate is…" He twisted his lips, strumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "Well, it's kind of like…"

"I don't even care anymore," Wesley ground out. "I just need to get home, so please drive."

Hyett could hear his mate's phone vibrating in his pocket.

"Why is your dad blowing up your phone?" Repeated calls from a parent would signal an emergency. It would to Hyett, but Wesley hadn't answered any of them, which meant he already knew the reason.

"Really?" Wesley stared wide-eyed at him. "You won't even answer my question, but you expect me to answer yours?" He huffed and turned his head toward the passenger window. "If you're not going to drive me back to my car, tell me now so I can get out and walk."

"I understand your annoyance at not getting an answer, but that doesn't justify you biting my head off." Hyett blew out a breath.

It seemed his mate was back to being a meanie. Hyett couldn't even say it was from pain, because Wesley wasn't rubbing his leg or wincing. He sat there with his jaw clenched, his arms folded over his chest, and then his anger just visibly drained. He dropped his arms then folded his hands in his lap as he looked at his feet.

"I just need to get home."

Hyett studied him for a long moment and then pulled around the house and headed down the driveway. "I was drawn to the peaceful way you were cutting the mushrooms. But then it struck me that it was you who'd drawn me in, and that's when I felt our connection, and I knew in that moment you were my mate. Someone fate had handpicked just for me, Wesley."

His mate side-eyed him. "I don't understand what you're telling me, Hyett."

Pulling over to the soft shoulder of the road, Hyett put the SUV in Park and turned toward his mate. "This is going to sound completely insane, and I'm worried about your reaction, but we can't move forward if… You keep lashing out at me, and I don't understand why," he said softly. "You told me that you were in pain, but my gut tells me it's more than that."

"What's going to sound insane to me?"

Hyett wished he could pull Wesley into his lap and hold him. He didn't like all the secrets he saw hidden in the man's eyes. His mate was struggling with something, and all Hyett wanted to do was help him.

With a sigh, Hyett said, "I'm a bear shifter, Wesley. In my world, we're given mates, someone specifically chosen for us, and I don't think I'm explaining this right, so forgive me, because I've never had to explain what I am to anyone before."

Wesley scowled. "You're saying I was specifically chosen for your family?"

"What? No." Hyett wanted to snarl at the thought of his brothers or father touching Wesley. "I told you I was screwing this up." He sat back and rested his elbow on the doorframe, his forehead against his fingers.

"You're saying you're given a harem of men?"

Hyett gaped at him. "How did you even come to that conclusion?"

"You just told me you were given mates , as in plural," Wesley argued in exasperation. "Then you said specifically chosen for us , again, plural. What else was I supposed to think?"

"Me, bear. I get one mate. You, mate."

Wesley glared at him. "Dude, I'm not a moron. You just suck at explaining things."

"Clearly," Hyett groaned.

"So, let me see if I get this straight." Wesley held up a hand, palm out. "You can change into a bear. Right?"

"Yes." Hyett nodded.

"In your world, your kind is given a mate."

Okay, this was much better, so Hyett wasn't going to tell Wesley that there were many different shifter species or the fact that vampires, demons, and other preternatural beings existed. "Yes."

Wesley slid his tongue over his bottom lip and damn if Hyett didn't want to feel it sliding over his. "When you stood at the counter earlier, you knew I was your mate."

"Yes!" Hyett felt as if they'd just climbed a fucking mountain, but they'd finally made it to the top.

"So now I belong to your family?"

And they just fell off the mountaintop. "Why do you keep circling back to my family?" Hyett asked incredulously. "You were nailing it perfectly until the last part. You belong solely to me , Wesley. Me. Not Killian or Ryker or my dad. Just me . Now do you get it?"

The side of his mate's mouth twitched.

Hyett narrowed his eyes. "You were just fucking with me."

Wesley's smile fully blossomed. "I couldn't pass up the opportunity. You looked so hopeful and—" He shrugged. "Now, the question is, do I believe you?"

"But you just—"

"Let me finish," Wesley said calmly as he held up his hand again. "Please."

"Go ahead, babe." Hyett would just sit there and listen to the guy call him seven kinds of crazy. Then he would show his claws to prove he was a bear, followed by his mate having a meltdown.

Just your average Friday evening.

"I'm open to the possibility that something is going on, simply because my pain completely disappears when you touch me," Wesley said. "But the mate thing? My attraction to you can be explained by, you guessed it, simple attraction."

While Hyett wasn't thrilled that his mate thought their connection was merely attraction, at least he hadn't called Hyett a flat-out liar. "And my bear?"

Wesley's gorgeous smile widened. "You are utterly insane."

Locking gazes with his mate, Hyett raised his hand and slid his claws free.

The skin under Wesley's eyes twitched.

Hyett retracted his claws, but his mate had yet to move a muscle. It was as if he was frozen. "Talk to me, hon. You have a weird look in your eyes. Tell me if you're about to run."

They were on the side of the road, and Hyett didn't need the guy running into oncoming traffic, even though there currently weren't any cars in sight.

"Right." Wesley grabbed the handle, gently pushed the door open, then got out. He simply walked into the field next to them.

"Shit. He's having a silent meltdown." Hyett jumped out then flattened himself against the front panel of his SUV when a semi rushed by. Jesus. He was about to die going after his mate.

Jogging after Wesley, who was walking at a steady pace, Hyett wondered where the guy was heading. "Wesley?"

His mate stopped. "I'm working this out in my head," he said to Hyett. "I can't be…" He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. "I'm a monster."

What was his mate talking about? How was he a monster?

"And you're apparently a bear." Wesley let out a quick, hysterical laugh then grew quiet. "Clearly I'm the one who's insane."

Wesley was definitely having a meltdown, and Hyett wasn't sure how to stop it.

Chapter Four

Wesley tried to work this out in his head as he walked. His life hadn't been the same since that fateful night, and now… A bear? Maybe, just maybe, he could somehow get beyond the fact the guy he was overwhelmingly attracted to was a bear, but how would he deal with them being mates?

That meant Hyett would see his leg. He would freak out like the last guy, but it would hurt even more this time. Wesley hadn't known the rando. They'd simply hooked up. But with Hyett, it was different. Wesley really liked him.

Now the man stood in front of him, staring at him like Wesley was the crazy one. The hysterical laughter probably didn't help matters. Neither did his throbbing leg. Wesley shouldn't have walked so far from the road.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Hyett reached for him, and Wesley didn't stop him. He wanted the relief, but more so, he wanted to feel Hyett's strong arms around him. The man pulled Wesley to his chest and hugged him close.

"You're a bear," he said into Hyett's pec. Why did the guy have to be so freaking tall?

"I am." Hyett rubbed his back. "Don't let that scare you, sweetheart. I would never do anything to hurt you."

Wesley burrowed deeper into him, sighing as his pain began to ease. "How are you doing that? Is it because we're mates?"

"Yes." Hyett hugged Wesley tighter, as if the guy needed to be touched just as much as he did.

"Magic?" After what Hyett just revealed to him, Wesley would believe him.

The guy softly chuckled. "No magic. You just completely relax when I touch you, hon."

Truthfully, Wesley had been kind of hoping it was magic. He'd been having such a rough time that it would be nice to discover something so cool.

Like the fact Hyett could change into a bear? That's what should be freaking Wesley out the most, not the mate thing. The gorgeous man wasn't even human, yet all Wesley cared about was Hyett's reaction to seeing his scars.

"Agh!" Wesley quickly curled his arms around Hyett's neck when the man scooped him up and held him to his chest. "What're you doing?"

"I think it's pretty obvious." Hyett smiled as he started back toward the road. "I'm carrying my honey because his leg hurts."

"But the pain went away," Wesley argued. "I'm too high off the ground. What if you drop me? I feel ridiculous being carried."

Despite his many protests, Wesley was loving every second of it, even though Hyett looked a little too smug with that goofy grin on his face.

"You feel wonderful in my arms, and there's no chance in hell I'm gonna drop you." Hyett made it back to the SUV in no time.

Wesley wished he'd taken longer. He might have felt ridiculous, probably even looked twice as absurd, but who was he to argue if Hyett liked carrying grown men?

"Dude, I can get into the car without any help," Wesley said when Hyett wrestled with the handle then opened the door, placing him gently on the seat.

The guy kissed him on the nose then smiled. "What if I like doing it for you?" He wound the seatbelt around Wesley.

"Okay, now you're going too far," he grumbled, smacking at Hyett's hands. "I can buckle it myself."

The seatbelt clicked into place.

"Already done." Hyett kissed his nose again.

Wesley crossed his arms. Hyett chuckled as he closed the door. "What in the hell am I doing?" He could not let this mate thing progress any further. The guy wasn't even human, and Wesley had a horrific leg. It just couldn't work.

"Are you really upset I did all that?" Hyett asked after he climbed in and closed the door.

Wesley opened his mouth and then chickened out, so he closed it. He wanted to tell Hyett the truth, that he was terrified of the guy seeing his leg, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words out loud.

"I'm sorry if you thought I was taking away your independence, Wes."

Wesley instantly stiffened. "Please…please don't call me that."

Hyett studied him for the longest moment. "Okay, Wesley. I won't do it again."

Shit. Wesley knew he was a mess, but he hadn't realized how screwed up he was until he met Hyett. He wanted to tell the guy why he hated the shortened version of his name, but then Hyett would discover how fucked up Wesley's homelife was. The guy might argue with his brothers, but that kind of thing was normal among siblings.

What wasn't normal was Wesley visiting a drug house once a week to score for a man who unleashed hatred on his son when he was in pain. It also wasn't normal for that man's son to accidently take the drugs he never wanted to buy in the first place.

They rode in silence back to town, their small moment of fun disappearing because Jackson had destroyed a simple nickname, causing Wesley to loathe even hearing it.

Hyett was probably already regretting even meeting him. What bothered Wesley the most was the fact he was acting just like his father when he lashed out at Hyett.

When they parked, he tried to jump out, but Hyett placed a hand on his arm. "Please, give me your phone number."

What was the point since Hyett was about to wash his hands of him? But to help him escape faster, Wesley relented. He pulled out his phone and accessed the dial pad before handing it to Hyett.

The man called his own phone. "I want to see you again," he said, handing back Wesley's phone, and then he stored the number.

"Why?" He huffed at how badly he'd acted toward Hyett. "Are you into that kind of torture?"

"Mates don't quit each other, Wesley. You're it for me, and vice versa. We might hit snags, but I would never give up on you or let you push me away."

Hyett said it so sincerely that Wesley could almost believe him. But a person could only handle someone's mood swings for so long before they actually did give up. If mates couldn't quit each other, Hyett was in for a miserable life, even if Wesley wanted the opposite.

He was turning into his father and felt like he couldn't stop the inevitable, no matter how much he wanted to.

"I have to go." Getting out, Wesley hurried to his car before Hyett could stop him, then he had to force himself not to look at the guy as he pulled away. It physically hurt to leave Hyett behind, but Wesley had to get the pills to his dad.

"Who are you trying to fool?" he asked himself. "Admit it, you're running away like a coward."

By the time he made it home, Wesley was in an even worse mood. If he'd just stayed on Hyett's couch, his evening might have turned out differently. He wasn't talking about sex, but he could have enjoyed an evening just chilling instead of coming home to Jackson's rotten mood.

If his dad had been blowing up his phone, it meant he was out of pills and in a lot of pain. As he walked through the front door, Wesley braced himself for the onslaught of verbal abuse.

A hand grabbed him around the throat and slammed him into the wall. Wesley stared right into Morton's cold, flat eyes. What in the hell was going on? What was the drug dealer and his creepy roommate doing at his house?

And why was his dad curled into a ball on the floor, bleeding from his nose and shivering and sweating?

Morton slowly tilted his head to crack it. "Your father has racked up quite a debt."

Wesley's heart was beating like crazy, and Morton's hand was squeezing his neck a little tighter. "What are you talking about? I pay you every time I come over."

His mind raced, but Wesley couldn't figure out what debt Morton was referring to. There had to be some kind of mistake. Clearly the guy was using his own products.

A slow smile curled Morton's lips. "You don't know, do you? Or are you playing me?"

Wesley shook his head quickly, trembling so badly his limbs knocked against the wall behind him.

Seth, the guy's creepy roommate, chuckled. He was seated casually on their couch, rolling a blunt, looking as if he owned the place.

Morton released him then backhanded Wesley so hard his head banged into the wall next to him. As he felt warm blood run from his nose, he wondered if the guy had broken his cheekbone.

"That's in case you're lying to me," Morton said. "Daddy has been scoring on the side, running up a tab with me."

As his face throbbed, Wesley glanced at his father covered in sweat and moaning. The sight of him lying there hurt Wesley's heart. Before everything had gone to shit, his dad had been a strong, hardworking man. They hadn't always gotten along, had rarely seen eye to eye, but he'd never looked like this.

"Jackson owes ten grand, since you seem unaware of his debt. Drugs, gambling, and a woman or two." Morton winked. "Now, the bill comes due."

Seth lit his blunt with a chuckle. He took a couple hits then got up and walked toward them. The smoke filled the space around them, causing Wesley to choke. A headache began to throb in the back of his skull from the nasty smell.

"See, we thought the pain pills were for you." Seth pointed the blunt at him as if it was an extension of his finger. "Had we known they were for your dad, we would've just taken the money for his debt."

Wesley prayed this wasn't leading to what he suspected, but he was too terrified to open his mouth. Morton was a tall, heavyset guy with thinning hair and a nose too big for his face. Even worse, he also had an aura of evilness hugging him close.

Seth was tall, too, but he was lean with muscles and had a look that said he derived pure joy from hurting others.

"A family that does drugs together can pay the bill together," Seth side, blowing the foul smoke directly into Wesley's face.

"But I had no idea what he was doing!" Wesley argued as his mind whirled, trying desperately to figure a way out of this nightmare. "I don't do drugs." Not illegal ones. The ones he'd taken earlier had been by accident.

He shouted when Seth hauled off and slugged him in the gut, the blunt dangling between his lips. He yanked Wesley up and punched him again in the face, causing him to crash to the floor.

"Save your whining." Morton stepped back like he was horrified at the thought of getting blood on his shoes. "I don't give a shit which one of you knew what or who cries innocent. I don't even care if you knock over a few liquor stores to get my money. One week from today, you better have it, so I suggest you get to hustling."

Seth squatted next to Jackson and shook his head. "If you don't come up with the money, you and this piece of shit will be buried in the forest."

Oh god. Wesley had no idea what he was going to do. He didn't have ten grand and couldn't possibly come up with it in a week. Why on earth would Morton allow Jackson to run up such a huge debt. How long had this been going on behind Wesley's back?

That was probably why his dad had blown up his phone. He knew Morton was coming for his money. But why call him? It wasn't as though he had the ten thousand dollars lying around.

He closed his eyes when he saw Seth heading toward him, his eyes gleaming with malice. Maybe the guy would beat him to death and Wesley wouldn't have to wait until next week to die.

* * * *

Hyett heard the back door of the house open and close as he lay on top of the garage, staring at the canopies of trees silhouetted against the night sky. He was trying to count as many stars as he could see, but one of his family members was about to disrupt his peace and quiet.

A grunt and a few footsteps later, Killian lay down beside him. "You know you're never gonna get an accurate count, right? So why bother?"

"Damn it, you made me mess up," Hyett grumbled, wondering if he'd been at 280 or 300. "Because it was relaxing until you came up here."

The truth was, counting stars was a distraction. Anything to take his mind off Wesley. No matter what approach Hyett tried—biting back, gentle, or playfulness—Wesley either tried to walk away or he'd become pissed off.

There was no denying he wanted to bond with Wesley, to get the human naked, and make him forget everything but Hyett. From the second he'd laid eyes on his mate, something in him had snapped, like some primal force taking over.

But Wesley wasn't on the same page. Hell, he wasn't even reading the same book. If his mate had been anything other than human, Hyett would have had him naked and begging by now. Regardless, nothing was going down until his mate's guard lowered and he opened up. Wesley was hiding secrets, and he had it in his head that Hyett would judge him for those secrets. Nothing was further from the truth.

For Hyett, it was ride or die, and eventually, Wesley would come to the same conclusion and learn to trust him.

"I'm sorry," Killian said, "for being a dickhead. I've never seen you look at anyone that way before and should have known something deeper was going on."

Turning his head, Hyett squinted at his brother. "What look?"

Killian contorted his face into an exaggerated doe-eyed expression before grinning. "Like the entire world had disappeared and it was just you and the human and nothing could rip your gaze away from him."

Hyett snorted. Yeah, that's exactly how it had felt. "But you still acted like a dickhead when it hit you that he was my mate."

Killian turned his gaze skyward. "Look, you're our baby brother. You're the one cool under pressure, while Ryker and I just want to knock heads and rip out throats."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"And you found your mate first," Killian added, voice tinged with envy.

Hyett propped himself up on an elbow to look at him. "Are you seriously jealous? It's not like I set out to find Wesley today. I was just as shocked as you were."

"Yeah, well, tell me you wouldn't be at least a little jealous if I found mine first." Killian laced his fingers and rested them over his chest, still staring at the sky.

With a sigh, Hyett lay back down. "Yeah, I would, but so far, it's not all roses and romance like I thought it would be when I found my mate. It's more like thorns and heartache and enough attitude to give me frostbite."

Killian glanced at him with a frown. "You actually thought it'd be easy?"

"You don't have to point out how delusional I am." Hyett playfully elbowed him.

"But you know fate pairs two people who need each other. As soon as you realized Wesley was your mate, your first question should've been: how broken is this guy, and how many battle wounds will he cause me before we get our shit together?"

"My first question was more like: who is this guy, and how fast can I get him under me?" Hyett grinned, but it quickly faded. "Your question would've been more appropriate."

"Not the worst question. More fun, at least." Killian chuckled then sobered. "You figured out what he's hiding yet?"

"Damn, you're nosy." Hyett traced his fingers along the rough asphalt roof. "I saw the way you two were gazing at each other through the window at the pizza shop."

Killian choked on a disbelieving laugh. "He was high as fuck and zoned out," he argued. "His mind was probably riding rainbow unicorns through a melted chocolate waterfall."

Hyett had been joking with his brother, but… "You're way too specific for that to be random," he snarled.

"Because it just popped into my head. Jeez. I can see now you're going to be a barrel full of laughs until you claim him." Killian rolled his eyes. " He's now my brother-in-law, Hyett. I'm going to treat him just like I treat you and Ryker, so stop with the attitude."

"If you treat Wesley the same as us, Dad will help me bury your carcass." Hyett reached into his back pocket when his phone started ringing.

It was Wesley. Hyett's heart skipped a beat.

"Get lost so I can talk dirty to my mate." He shooed his brother away before he answered. "Hey, hon."

"Hyett," Wesley groaned with a heavy wheeze.

He bolted upright. "Wesley, what's wrong?"

Killian turned back around and trotted toward him, a quizzical expression on his face.

"Hurts," Wesley coughed roughly. "Hurt m-me."

Hyett was up and racing to the edge of the roof, Killian right behind him, texting on his phone.

"Are you still at home, baby?" Hyett flung himself down from the roof so fast he nearly landed on his ass.

"Y-Yeah," Wesley wheezed, his breath rasping through the speaker. "Hiding." Then a ping. Wesley shared his location.

Hyett's heart pounded like crazy, but his bear wanted to attack whoever had hurt their mate. So did he. "Wesley, is the person who hurt you still there? Are they in the house?"

His dad and Ryker shot out of the back door, Quinton taking the wheel as they jumped into the SUV and his dad sped from the driveway.

"Wesley?" Hyett's voice cracked with fear. "Baby, answer me."

His father's hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing hard as they tore down the back road.

"Wesley?" He pulled his phone away and saw the call had disconnected. "Shit!"

Closing his eyes, Hyett prayed whoever had hurt Wesley wasn't still there, but another part of him hoped like hell they were, because they had four deadly bear shifters heading their way to wipe them from existence.

Chapter Five

As they pulled to the curb a few houses down from Wesley's, Hyett struggled to keep his bear under control. It was raging inside of him, desperate to break free and maul whoever had hurt his mate.

This was the one time he didn't want to keep a cool head. Hyett wanted to tear someone apart, but that wasn't the way to go. They couldn't storm in there blindly without knowing what they were up against. Wesley's attacker could still be inside, or there could even be multiple assailants, which would make the situation even more dangerous for his mate.

But damn if Hyett didn't want to crash through the door to get to Wesley. It made him glad he'd exchanged numbers with the guy earlier. Otherwise, Hyett wouldn't have even known his mate was in trouble.

The four of them headed up the driveway in complete silence. All the lights were off, shrouding the interior in complete darkness.

Even the porchlight wasn't on.

Cautiously, he and his dad stepped onto the porch as Killian and Ryker disappeared around the back of the house.

A foul odor filled his nostrils and made his gut churn. He glanced at his dad, who clearly smelled it too.

Why would a demon be at Wesley's house?

Quinton must have sensed that Hyett was about to unravel because his dad swung open the front door, not even bothering to check through any windows first.

The air was thick with the scent of blood, sweat, and marijuana, causing Hyett to take in shallow breaths, which didn't help with his heightened senses.

Despite the dark interior, Hyett could see just fine. It was a normal living room. The place hadn't been tossed, something he'd expected after that chilling call from his mate.

What he hadn't expected was an older man huddled on the floor, shivering like crazy even though it was muggy inside the house. Sweat had matted his dark hair to his head in a tangled mess. Blood trickled from his nose and dripped onto the floor.

Killian and Ryker entered the living room after searching the house, appearing like two giants in the narrow hallway.

"Didn't see anyone prowling around." Killian glanced at the trembling human who had started making strange noises in the back of his throat. "Do we know who he is and what's wrong with him?" Hyett's brother squatted with a look of compassion for the guy.

"I'm thinking he's Wesley's dad, but I know about as much as you do since we got here at the same time." The floorboards under Hyett's booted feet creaked and groaned as he walked around the living room trying to catch a strong enough whiff of his mate's scent.

But the overpowering stench of weed, coupled with Jackson's sickly-smelling sweat, was messing with his senses.

What was wrong with the human?

"I'll call an ambulance for him." Quinton pulled out his phone then started talking with emergency services.

Hyett gave up trying to find his mate by scent. Instead, he yanked the couch away from the wall, but his mate wasn't behind it. "Check the rest of the house."

"But we didn't find anyone," Ryker said.

"Check under beds, in closets, in crawl spaces. Hell, look under the bathroom sink," Hyett snarled. "We don't stop until we find my mate."

As his brothers and dad searched the house, Hyett stood trying to think. Wesley had said he was at home. It had taken seventeen minutes to get there. What if his attacker had snatched him?

Hyett still couldn't figure out why a demon had been here. He would have thought his mate was somehow mixed up with the preternatural, but you couldn't fake the shocked reaction Wesley had had when Hyett had revealed he was a bear shifter. His mate had simply walked out into that field in a daze, no specific destination in mind.

Hyett had too many questions and jack shit for answers.

When he turned to go help with the search, something caught his eye. With his brows furrowed, Hyett walked over to the front door, which they'd left wide open when they'd barged in. Closing it, he discovered a closet behind it.

Inside were hanging coats and jackets and two rows of neatly lined shoes on the floor. To the right, the closet extended farther back. There was a stack of large plastic containers filled with what looked like Christmas decorations.

That's when Hyett spotted an oddly angled shoe on top of the stack.

His heart raced with panic as he frantically tossed everything from the closet until he discovered his mate. Wesley must have climbed on top of the containers then slipped headfirst behind them to hide himself. "Found him!"

His father and brothers thundered into the room. Killian cursed as Quinton and Ryker snarled. Hyett heard an ambulance's approach moments before the room was bathed in swirling lights.

"Don't move him, son," his dad advised. "You don't know the extent of his injuries. Let the paramedics help him."

Jaw clenched, Hyett sniffed deeply as he wiped away some stray tears with the back of his hand. "My mate is lying in a tangled mess on the floor of a closet, and you want me to just leave him like this?" he ground out.

He couldn't even get a good look at Wesley's face because he was too far back, but there was no mistaking the metallic smell of blood.

"Hyett, little bro, you have to move so the paramedics can get through the door. You're blocking them." Ryker tried to help him up, but something in Hyett's mind snapped. He lunged to his feet and swung at his brother as pure impotent rage consumed him.

Ryker crashed into the wall behind him, creating a massive crater and causing drywall to crumble in a cascade of dust and debris. Framed pictures hit the floor as large cracks extended in every direction.

Bulky arms shackled Hyett from behind, locking his own arms at his sides. He tried to fight against the hold, but they were like bands of unrelenting steel. There was only one person who was capable of immobilizing him that swiftly and effectively.

"Reel your shit in," his dad snarled close to Hyett's ear.

"He was already disabled!" Hyett screamed, though the culprit wasn't there to hear him. "You didn't have to hurt him!"

Fire burned through his veins, leaving him feeling like scorched earth. Every muscle was taut and tense with only one outlet.

His bear was about to break free.

Quinton's powerful arms tightened. "The medics refuse to step inside the house while you're coming unglued. Wesley needs help, Hyett. What he doesn't need is his mate suffering a mental breakdown."

Breathing heavily, Hyett closed his eyes and blocked everything out then concentrated on slowing his heart rate.

On pushing back his bear.

On the almost imperceptible whimpers Wesley panted out.

His mate needed to get to the hospital. Hyett's descension into madness could wait.

"I want to know who did this to him." That person was the one who deserved his wrath.

"We're going to find out, but right now, Wesley is our priority," his dad replied.

Ryker yanked himself from the deep indentation before dusting off flecks of drywall.

" I'm sorry, Ryker. You were only trying to help." Hyett cursed himself for attacking his brother. They had gotten into plenty of fights in the past, but Hyett had never outright assaulted him.

This was why he had to be the coolheaded one. Because his unleashed fury burned too brightly when set free.

"There's no need to apologize." Ryker pulled Hyett from their dad's tight hold and hugged him. "You needed a target, and I was the closest one."

"You're not a target."

"At a time like this, I'll be whatever you need, little brother." Ryker gripped his shoulder.

Pulling away, Hyett crossed the room, his chest hurting like hell. Wesley was out of the closet and was wearing a C-collar on his neck. His right cheek, along with the skin right below his eye, held a nasty purple bruise. There was dried blood under his nose, and he was still wheezing.

The other paramedic was working on Wesley's dad. Aside from a bleeding nose, there were no visible injuries on the human.

"Do you know what's wrong with him?" Hyett was curious to know what was causing the sickly smell in Jackson's sweat.

"Are you family?" The paramedic smelled like a cheetah shifter. Good. That would make it easier to talk to him without worrying about tiptoeing around any potential questions.

"He's my mate's dad," Hyett admitted. Now that he had a chance to take a closer look, Jackson and Wesley didn't really look alike. The only trait they shared was brown hair so dark it bordered on black.

Maybe they had the same silver-gray eyes, but since Jackson's were squished closed, it was anybody's guess.

Whereas Jackson appeared rugged and ridden hard, his son's features were soft and radiant.

The cheetah glanced over his shoulder. "Is the guy my partner's working on your mate?" he asked with a hint of suspicion. Did he think Hyett and his family had anything to do with this?

"We arrived after the fact." Hyett fought to keep the growl out of his tone. "I have no idea what happened here."

Now the son of a bitch held a disapproving look in his eyes. Weren't emergency service workers supposed to be impartial?

Breathe. Do not slug the guy helping your father-in-law.

The cheetah turned his attention back to Wesley's dad. "Visually, it looks like he has suffered trauma to his nose. Most likely a well-placed punch. He's also experiencing withdrawal symptoms. The odor mingling with his sweat is heroine. Sadly, my partner and I have gone on too many of these calls over the past six months. It's to the point I can call myself an expert with naming the drug a human has taken."

Wesley's dad was a junkie?

Now Hyett wondered if the extra pill his mate had taken had really been an accident.

He wanted to believe the best of Wesley, really, but with his mate's mood swings and the fact the guy suffered with pain, he couldn't honestly say.

Killian's statement surfaced in his mind. Fate paired two people who needed each other. Wesley was definitely mixed up with something. For sure, the guy had secrets.

But just how broken was his mate? Would Hyett survive the battle wounds that were about to be carved in his heart?

* * * *

"You know they won't have the money in a week." Durzi scowled when the kitchen chair he currently sat in rocked with unevenness every time he shifted positions.

"I'm fully aware, Seth."

Seth was a ridiculous name, but Durzi had needed a human cover when he discovered being around Morton had benefits. Plus, he didn't want anyone to get wind that Durzi was in Midnight Falls. He had to keep his whereabouts hidden. So Seth it was, no matter how much he hated it.

Morton made a cappuccino with one of those fancy coffee machines sitting on his counter. "But I want them to try so I can recoup some of my money. Which do you think I'd rather have, a dead addict and his stupidly na?ve son or cold, hard cash?"

Then why in the fuck did you allow him to rack up such a high debt? Durzi was thousands of years old, yet he still couldn't understand human logic and probably never would.

Like how Morton was wealthy enough to afford a luxurious home but would rather live in a low-rent piece of crap. Durzi had lost count on how many times he'd battled with the disgusting plunger or unloaded wet dishes from the dishwasher because the ancient model needed to be replaced.

If he hadn't been in hiding from Whichello, he would've sucked out Morton's soul and been on his merry way.

The only reason he stuck around was the fact Morton was one of those extremely rare humans who could naturally signal-jam a preternatural being's whereabouts.

Thankfully, Morton was oblivious of his special gift and the fact "Seth" was a demon. The less he knew, the better.

Still, Morton's power came in mighty handy when you were running from a particularly nasty demon who loved to come up with creative ways to torture poor, unsuspecting victims.

Like Durzi.

Whichello acted as if cheating at cards or sleeping with his most cherished consort were bad things. It wasn't as if the demon didn't have plenty more to choose from, and what did he expect from a soul-sucking demon? Honesty and integrity?

It was a pain in the ass sticking to Morton's side. Durzi had to not only ensure nothing happened to his rotund signal jammer, but he had to always stay within range as well.

Which meant he couldn't stray too far from the obnoxious human.

It wouldn't have been so bad if Morton knew how to have fun, but the guy was as exciting as dripping water, and his condescending tone made Durzi want to pick his bones clean. Morton had no idea how many times he'd come close to ending up as nothing more than an empty husk of a human.

"Although I'm pretty pissed at you, Seth." Morton took a sip of his drink, his voice pulling Durzi from his thoughts. "How can Wesley hustle when you beat the shit out of him?"

"I gave him a love tap," he said dismissively. If he'd actually kicked the human's ass the way he'd really wanted to, Wesley would've ended up in traction and on life support. He'd popped the twink in the gut with the back of his hand. Big whoop.

It was pretty convenient Morton didn't mention the fact he'd smacked Wesley across the face or choked him. But sure, blame the demon.

Morton narrowed his muddy-brown eyes. " I'll give you a signal when I want someone roughed up."

You already give me the only signal I need. Morton could shove the rest of them up his ass. Taking out his frustrations on humans was the only thing that brightened Durzi's miserable days.

Well, he also liked smoking blunts. They didn't get him high, but he liked the putrid taste and the way the smoke smelled.

"I run things around here, not you," Morton continued with a sneer. "Never forget you can be replaced."

He would really love to see the human try. The only reason Morton wasn't tied up in a basement with a feeding tube was because Durzi would be stuck in there with him.

Morton should consider himself lucky Durzi loved his freedom and knocking humans around.

"Have someone sit on Jackson and his son. I want to know the moment they're released from the hospital."

The things I put up with in order not to die a horrific death. "How do you even know they're in the hospital?"

"Because you beat the shit out of Wesley, moron," Morton snarled.

It was a goddamn love tap!

"And before you ask why I want them watched, a good businessman always keeps an eye on his money. The sooner they're released, the sooner they can…" Morton stopped talking and just stood there.

Was the human suffering a stroke or something?

"I just had a brilliant idea." The guy smirked.

Durzi doubted it. For someone who ran a successful drug operation, the guy was pretty dimwitted.

And a good businessman wouldn't have allowed Jackson to… Why bother finishing that thought? It felt redundant at this point.

"Your plan?" Durzi startled slightly when the chair unevenly rocked.

"Why kill them?" Morton mused. He sipped his cappuccino loudly, pinky out.

"Maybe because you implied they were going to die and I backed the threat with promised burial services."

"This is why you are no longer allowed to make a move or even threaten anyone without my signal."

Keep it up and we'll be stuck together in a basement, asshole.

"Change of plans." Morton set his cup on the counter. "Until their debt is paid, they'll work for me, for free of course. Who doesn't love free help?"

Brilliant, he was not. "And how are they going to pay their bills and survive without paying jobs?"

He better not say they'll live here. Morton snored loud enough to wake the creatures in Hell. Durzi didn't want any more annoying roommates. Getting to ogle Wesley's sexy ass every day wouldn't be worth putting up with Jackson.

"Must you always poke holes in my plans?" Morton huffed. "Fine, they'll get a weekly pay. The two will just have to work for me a lot longer."

The obvious problem was so glaring that Morton should have gone blind. The guy was about to entrust drugs to a drug addict. That was like asking Durzi to babysit a soul.

"Do you want Bailey to watch father and son?" he asked dryly. The conversation had started to annoy him as soon as it started, and he wanted it to end already.

The guy rolled his eyes as if Durzi exhausted him. The feeling is mutual, you boring dimwit .

"Since he works at the hospital, then yes. Have Bailey keep an eye on them," Morton said in a deliberate tone.

As soon as the man was no longer of use, Durzi was going to take great pleasure in feasting on the bastard's soul.

Though he often wondered if Morton even had a soul.

Highly unlikely.

Chapter Six

Wesley had woken up half an hour ago to find he was in the hospital. After the nurse had checked his vitals and talked with him for a second, the doctor had come into his room to see how he was feeling.

Seth hadn't broken his cheekbone like Wesley thought he had. The only damage he'd suffered was a bruised kidney, but the doctor had said it was a minor bruise, which would heal on its own in one to two weeks.

He recommended bed rest during that period, but Wesley had more important problems to worry about.

Like the fact Hyett was sitting at his bedside. The guy had been there the entire six hours Wesley had slept. Maybe if he kept taking the wrong pills or was beaten up regularly, he would finally get some decent sleep.

That is not something to joke about.

No, it wasn't. He felt bad for even thinking it.

He just wished Hyett would say something. The guy just sat in the bedside chair, either silently studying Wesley with a penetrating gaze—like the man was trying to read his mind—or lost in thought.

Finally, Hyett sat forward. Wesley's heart raced a little faster, and the aggravating heart monitor thing snitched on him.

"If I ask you something, will you be completely honest with me?" Hyett's deep, rich voice was starting to become a solace to Wesley, a sound that calmed him the same way the man's touch eased his pain.

Too bad Hyett's touch and voice couldn't save Wesley's life.

"Depends on what you ask me," he answered without hesitation.

Hyett fell silent again.

Wesley wanted to beg the man to keep talking. To climb into the bed and simply hold him. He didn't want to go back to his lonely existence.

Not after meeting Hyett.

The heart monitor beeped faster when Hyett stood then sat on the side of the bed. The plastic mattress crinkled and deflated under his bulky frame.

"Look at me." He slid Wesley's hands into his.

It had taken several attempts. The weight of Hyett's gaze was like an anchor made of shame that kept dragging Wesley's eyes downward.

They stared at each other for the longest moment. Every second felt more like an hour.

"Please say something," Wesley begged.

He palmed Wesley's cheek, kissed his forehead, then locked gazes again. "Do you take drugs, Wesley?"

That wasn't the question he'd expected. Wesley thought for sure Hyett would ask about the assault. "You mean like my pain pills? I have a prescription for them."

Though Dr. Baldwin had been lowering the dosage over the past two months, concerned they would start to have the opposite effect.

Hyett was once again studying him. The guy was going to give him a complex if he didn't stop.

"I mean street drugs, Wesley." He gently squeezed Wesley's hands, but the touch didn't comfort him. "Something you'd buy off a drug dealer."

That felt like a double-edged question. Technically, he bought from a dealer, but it was never for himself.

"Your silence is your answer." Hyett let his hands go and stood, walking across the room. "Could you please be honest and tell me what drugs you take," he asked as he stared at something past the window.

"My prescribed pain meds and something for my headaches. I can even give you the name of my dealer. It's Dr. Hendrix Baldwin. I'm pretty sure if I refer a friend, I can score some pediatric suckers he reserves for his heavy users."

"Is this a joke to you?" Hyett demanded.

"No, it's not. You asked me to tell you what drugs I take, and I just told you," Wesley argued. "And I was dead serious about the suckers."

Wesley might have been wrong scoring for his dad, but his heart had been in the right place, and he'd honestly thought they were the same kind of pills as the ones he'd taken before his insurance dropped them.

"Then what are you hiding?" Hyett asked in a pleading tone. "Why did I find you unconscious and hurt in a closet and your dad strung out on the floor?"

"Because he's the addict, not me!" Wesley shot back, quivering.

Hyett sat next to him and held Wesley's hands once more. "Tell me, " he quietly demanded.

Wesley sat there and told Hyett about the insurance and everything that had happened afterward but hesitated to tell him about Morton's visit.

If he said it out loud, the reality of his imminent death would break him.

"Don't stop, sweetheart." Hyett pressed his large, warm palms against Wesley's cheeks, careful of his bruises. "Tell me what happened after I dropped you off at your car."

Wesley's bottom lip trembled. "I had no idea he was doing any of that," he whispered.

"Any of what, Wesley?" Hyett looked at him in trepidation.

Swallowing, Wesley told him about Morton's visit, about the debt, their deadline, and Seth's assault.

Hyett closed his eyes and cursed.

"I-I don't want to die, Hyett." Wesley somehow managed not to break down crying, although a few tears escaped.

"You're not going to," Hyett said to him with conviction.

He folded Wesley in his arms, his earthy, wild, masculine scent enveloping him. He sank into Hyett and closed his eyes, feeling safe for the first time in a very long while.

But the moment didn't last. Killian and Ryker walked in, wearing huge smiles. Killian was the largest of the three brothers, but Ryker was a close second. Wesley had to remind himself they were bear shifters because they appeared so human.

"Look who finally decided to join us." Killian's grin grew wider as he winked at Wesley.

Hyett growled.

"Like I told you before, he's my brother-in-law," Killian stated flatly. "I'm going to treat him just like one of us."

"You keep making that sound like it's a good thing," Ryker grumbled.

Killian tossed his hands onto his hips. "Being an Everhart is a great thing, even though the Frosts argue they're the best." Killian turned to Wesley. "Tell me, would you rather be with a bear shifter"—Killian flexed his massive muscles, causing Wesley to laugh—"or be with a plain old wolf shifter?"

Just as Killian had said "plain," Hyett was shouting for him to shut up.

"Did you just say wolf shifter?" Wesley's smile faded. His gaze flicked between Hyett and Killian, trying to process what he'd just heard.

Ryker cuffed Killian on the back of his head. "Consider yourself lucky we're in a hospital. You'll only have to go down a few floors to the emergency department when Hyett gives you a beatdown worthy of a body cast."

Wolf shifters. Okay. Wesley was going to put that little nugget on the backburner. Right now, he had other, more important issues to deal with than the existence of… Backburner. Right.

A soft knock sounded on the door, and then Quinton walked in. He glanced between his sons and gave an insufferable sigh. "Who did it, and what did they do?"

Hyett, Ryker, and Wesley pointed at Killian. Wesley didn't really want to point the finger, but it felt nice being a part of something.

Quinton grabbed the other chair and pulled it close to the bed. Wesley honestly wondered if it would hold the man's colossal weight.

"How are you feeling, Wes?" Quinton took a seat, unaware that Wesley had stiffened.

"He despises the shortened version of his name, Dad," Hyett said firmly.

Wesley didn't want things to become awkward. Truthfully, he was really starting to like this family. He might as well make his last week on earth matter.

Picking at the edge of the sheet draped over him, he cleared his throat while keeping his eyes averted. "My dad used to call me that name when he was spewing vile and hateful things at me during his withdrawals."

Wesley might as well call it what it truly was instead of telling himself his dad just needed his pills or the pain was making him that way.

It was drug withdrawal.

He still deeply loved his dad, and it hurt his heart to see him this way, but Wesley was still filled with fury and relief. Fury for causing this entire situation and relief that he'd told someone just how miserable his life truly was.

But most of all, Wesley was disappointed to know his dad had been out partying and racking up debt, while his son watched every penny just to make sure he had enough money to pay a drug dealer so his father wouldn't be in pain.

Wesley felt like a complete and utter fool.

And now he'd been pulled into Jackson's mess, and no matter Hyett's good intentions, Wesley couldn't stay in hiding forever. What was he going to do, shack up with a bunch of bear shifters?

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Quinton said. "Hearing your own name shouldn't cause such a strong reaction."

Hyett curled Wesley into his arms again, and although it felt wonderful, Wesley had to pull himself together. He wasn't a wallower. He was… He honestly didn't know anymore.

For too long he'd just been stuck.

"Killian informed Wesley wolf shifters existed," Ryker said to Quinton. "There's a gift shop downstairs. You wanna go in on some flowers, or possibly a wreath?"

Their dad chuckled. "I almost said the word human in front of Kalen's mate. After living for hundreds of years, we're bound to screw up now and again."

The skin under Wesley's eye twitched.

"Guess I'll be footing the bill for two bouquets of flowers," Ryker grumbled.

Quinton gave Wesley a playful, apologetic smile. "Oops."

* * * *

"I'm just going to the bathroom."

Hyett immediately stood, glaring at his family, and waited for his mate to get out of bed.

Wesley tossed the sheet aside, but he couldn't sit up. His face pinched with pain as his hand clamped over where the guy named Seth had struck him.

Either Morton or Seth was a demon, or possibly both. Hyett was reeling from everything his mate told him. He didn't even know Jackson, but god, he wanted to put hands on the guy for sending Wesley to a goddamn drug house once a week.

His mate was still struggling to get out of bed. Hyett understood wanting to be independent, but Wesley was in pain.

He wasn't going to just stand there and watch. Out of the corner of his eye, Hyett saw his brothers tense, like they were ready to jump up and help if needed.

"Give me your hands, honey." He knew his mate was hurting because Wesley didn't object to Hyett assisting him.

"Feet on the floor," he said as soon as he had his mate turned. "Let me know when you're ready to stand."

Wesley wobbled, and Quinton rose halfway from his chair. Killian and Ryker eased around to the foot of the bed, anticipation tightening their muscles.

Hyett glanced at them one at a time, silently telling them to back the fuck off. They acted as if he couldn't handle taking one tiny human to the bathroom.

"Ready." Wesley nodded.

"Hang on!" Killian grabbed some socks off the bed and handed them to Hyett. "Grippy socks, so he doesn't slip."

This was why Wesley didn't have to worry about protection. Four men as tall as redwood trees and built like charging bulls surrounded the small human.

No one was getting to him.

Gently, Hyett set Wesley on the side of the bed then kneeled in front of him to slide the socks on.

Now their journey could continue. Wesley could manage the short walk. He was pretty steady on his feet, but no one was stopping Hyett from following him to make sure the guy didn't need any help.

It wasn't until his mate walked ahead of him through the bathroom door that he noticed Wesley was wearing the classic bare-ass, open-back gown.

Hyett snapped his head around to find his family staring everywhere but at the human.

They'd better keep their eyes off my mate .

It wasn't too late to turn any one of them into a rug.

Hyett reached out to close the back of the gown and realized both of Wesley's legs were bare.

The human must've really been thrown to learn that shifters lived so long and the fact wolves existed, because Hyett knew damn well his mate would have never allowed anyone to see the burned leg if he hadn't been zoned out.

When they entered, Hyett closed the door behind them. Wesley turned, his dark brows crinkling. "What're you doing in here?"

"Call me Nurse Hyett." He folded his arms, towering by the door like he was a bodyguard instead of a nurse.

"I'm capable of using the —" Wesley's eyes grew wide. His hands flew behind his back, and then they started patting his nicely shaped ass. "Everyone just saw my bare butt!" he loudly whispered.

The low growl rumbled all on its own. "I made sure they looked away."

Factually true, even if it was at the last second.

"Did you look away?" Wesley appeared skeptical even before Hyett could answer.

He dropped his arm and stepped closer, bending with a smirk. " You're my mate, honey. I'm the only one who gets that privilege." Brushing his lips over Wesley's uninjured cheek, he whispered, "It's the nicest heinie I've ever laid eyes on."

Wesley sucked in a sharp breath, and it was the sweetest sound. Hyett grinned, glad his mate wasn't just prickles, like when they'd met. There was a vulnerable, beautiful man under the layers of anger and fear.

A few times Hyett had glimpsed the real Wesley, and he liked what he'd seen. But he wanted more than just quick peeks.

Wesley turned his head, like he was about to kiss him. Hyett jerked back.

Raw anguish filled his mate's eyes. He twisted sideways, trying to yank the fabric of his gown over his injured leg.

"Don't," Hyett said firmly. "Don't you dare hide from me."

"Just go," his mate insisted, the hurt evident in his strained voice. "Just get out of here!"

"No!" Hyett barked the word. " I'm not letting you push me away, Wesley."

"What do you care if a monster pushes you away? I'm giving you an out," he argued.

"I want you to give me an in, damn it." Hyett ran his hand through his hair, ready to pull out the strands. "You're not a monster, Wesley."

"Hideous, grotesque. Why would I think you wanted to be anywhere near it."

Those weren't Wesley's words. He was reciting what someone else had said to him. "Whoever he was, this guy who—"

"He only spoke the truth." His mate was trying to balance on one leg, the injured one pulled back in an attempt to hide what he thought was too hideous to look at.

Hyett carefully grabbed his mate and placed him on the counter of the sink. He wasn't going to let Wesley strain himself on one leg.

" I'll never understand why people smile at a compliment yet cling to an insult." Hyett curled his arms around him. "Your ex was a colossal jerk."

Wesley twisted his lips to the side then glanced to his right.

"What aren't you telling me?" Hyett growled softly.

"He wasn't an ex." Wesley refused to look at him. "He was just some random hookup six months after it happened."

The fire. Six months after the fire.

"Babe…" He breathed out heavily through his nose. "While I am not dismissing the fact you were probably at a low point at that time in your life…" Hyett pressed his forehead against his mate's. "Some random guy, who you don't give a shit about, and it's safe to bet he's got a small dick… Can you confirm?"

Wesley shook his head. Hyett was relieved it hadn't gotten that far. It would have been much worse to give the guy some tail and then have the jackass insult him.

"Screw what Tiny Dick said to you, babe. He's a nobody hanging out in bars picking up guys. I bet he didn't even pay for the room."

Hyett had nothing against bar hookups—his sex life lived off of bar hookups—but he was just trying to prove a point.

"I actually picked him up," Wesley admitted with a blush.

"Goddamn right my baby knows how to close a deal," Hyett purred playfully. "But those days are over. Unless you want to pick me up in a bar. I'll role-play with you. I'll be the unsuspecting guy enchanted by the little vixen out to steal my heart and cock." He wiggled his brows. "You can steal both, sweetheart."

"That might have been fun." Wesley looked away. "Kinda hard to do that when you won't even kiss me."

"Are you…" Hyett lifted his mate's chin so they could look at each other. "All I've been thinking about is kissing you."

"Then why did you pull away?" Wesley asked with knitted brows.

Hyett looked incredulously at him. "Because I refuse to have our first kiss take place next to a hospital toilet. When I want to revisit the spot where the best kiss of my life happened, I don't want to hear some John Doe flushing it."

"That…" Wesley looked at Hyett with a strange kind of smile. "I can't even get mad at that. Now I'm glad you stopped it."

And there was no rush, regardless of what his bear growled for.

What he wanted was for Wesley to heal, and not just his body. It was in his mate's silver eyes whenever Hyett looked at him.

The weariness. Wesley was tired of the way life was beating him down even before he'd reached the young age of thirty.

His heart had been carved out by his father, causing him to build walls around it, to vehemently protect what remained.

But Wesley didn't need walls to protect the remaining bits and pieces of his heart. He needed someone to help make it whole again.

And Hyatt wanted to be that someone.

* * * *

Three large men stood outside Wesley Miller's hospital room, appearing like fierce bodyguards.

Terrifying sight, but that wasn't the issue.

They kept glancing at Bailey every few moments as if they could sense what he was up to.

Or Bailey's guilt was making him paranoid.

Wesley's discharge was complete, so the three must have stepped out of the room to allow the guy to get dressed in private.

Bailey really hated doing this. Wesley seemed like a nice guy, but he had no choice.

He had a debt to pay off, and when Seth told you to do something, things became painful if you didn't.

Bailey also had to keep an eye on Wesley's dad, but Jackson Miller was currently detoxing and wouldn't be released anytime soon.

The family appeared to have gone through enough, and Bailey felt guilty about sending the text. He didn't want to rat on the son with those three standing there.

Their sheer sizes intimidated the hell out of him, and he felt like they would be able to read the text from twenty feet away.

Stepping around the corner of the hallway, he slipped his phone out and sent the text.

Chapter Seven

"Knock, knock. Is someone ready to get out of here?" A husky man pushing a wheelchair strolled into the room. His smile faltered as his dark blue gaze swept over the four ginormous men standing there.

Wesley knew how the transport guy felt. Sitting on the hospital bed with Hyett and his family surrounding him made the room feel like a shoebox.

"I'm Gerald." He recovered with a mischievous smile. " I'll be your escape specialist today. Are you ready to break out of here?"

Wesley liked his sense of humor. "What're we going to do about the four guards surrounding us?" he whispered. "Should we try to outrun them or force them to help us?"

Gerald's gaze flickered at the men as self-preservation filled his eyes. "How about we bribe them with graham crackers and ginger ale? I think there might be a few cases stashed behind the nurses' station."

The men chuckled, the sound bleeding away the tension in Gerald's features.

"If those are cinnamon graham crackers, you've got a deal." Killian's grin was just as mischievous as Gerald's, like the guy lived to have fun.

Hyett took Wesley's hands and eased him off the bed, carefully rotating him before lowering him into the wheelchair.

If the guy had been any gentler, Wesley would've floated into the seat. Hyett even beat Gerald to folding down the footrests.

"This thing doesn't have a seat belt?" Hyett looked dead serious as he knelt in front of Wesley.

"We aren't really making a run for it." Gerald looked at Hyett with furrowed brows. "I promise were not going over five miles an hour, sir."

Wesley hid his smile at how vexed Hyett seemed. His concern touched Wesley deeply. It was the first time anyone had treated him with this much care and attentiveness.

"If we encounter any speed bumps, feel free to lift my chair over them." Wesley waved a hand toward the door. "Can we get out of here? I'm pretty sure Gerald has other escapees to help, unless you want to check for air bags."

Gerald snickered behind him. Killian and Ryker chuckled, and even Quinton wore a huge grin.

Hyett pushed to his feet with a scowl. Wesley crooked his finger. Although everyone's enjoyment of the situation was good-natured, he didn't want Hyett to be made fun of, even by him.

When Hyett leaned in close, he kissed the guy on the cheek. "Thanks for looking out for me. I really do appreciate it."

Hyett gave a soft growl. "You just had to make this room special, didn't you?"

"How?"

"This is the official spot where I just received the best kiss on the cheek."

Wesley was about to go up in flames at the statement.

Hyett gave him a roguish smile, and all the fuss over the safety features of a hospital wheelchair no longer seemed ridiculous as Wesley's heart wobbled.

How could someone think a kiss on the cheek was worth making official?

He didn't have time to think too hard on it. They headed out of his room, Wesley giving a small wave to the male nurse, Bailey, who had been a great help.

The early afternoon was a flourish of activity— getting loaded into the SUV, a pitstop at Deep Dish for the biggest to-go order of lunch Wesley had ever seen, and then finally arriving at Hyett's.

Just sitting around the table with the broad-shouldered bear shifters, enjoying their meal and good conversation, made Wesley feel like one of them. Watching the way they interacted with each other confirmed they were goodhearted men.

They'd even worked as a team to clean the kitchen, their synced movements showing they'd done this a million times before. But when Wesley tried to pitch in, he gained four deep scowls that told him to sit his butt down and relax.

Now, he was stepping into Hyett's L-shaped bedroom, which was a blended theme of olive green and cream and contained a matching set of dark mahogany furniture.

When Wesley walked farther into the room, he was blown away at how spacious it was. He was willing to bet he could fit his and his dad's bedrooms in here.

The centerpiece was undoubtedly the king-sized bed, with a curved headboard and dressed in tan and cream bedding.

With a grin, Wesley was glad to see he wasn't the only one who left their folded laundry on their bed, waiting to be put away. Sometimes he just lived out of the stacks until it was time to do laundry again.

Which, from the look of clothes strewn across the floor, was exactly what Hyett did as well.

Wesley noticed a brick fireplace across from the bed with a large flat-screen television mounted above it.

At the other end of the room was a dark gray, overstuffed settee with a throw blanket draped over one arm. A small coffee table was in front of it, with empty dishes sitting on its surface.

Beyond the couch were sliding glass doors, and past them was a wooden deck with black railings, as well as a breathtaking view of the forest.

Wesley had never been inside such a gorgeous, messy bedroom before.

" Excuse the mess." He placed his hands on Wesley's waist and guided him toward the bed. "I didn't get a chance to clean."

"You don't have to apologize." Wesley sat on the edge of the bed with a grimace. His side still hurt like hell. What he wouldn't give to repay Seth in the same way. "I have just as many clothes scattered around my room, and I think I left dishes sitting on the floor by my dresser."

Glancing up, Wesley saw a large canvas above the bed depicting some kind of cityscape, the color washed in sepia. In addition to the glass doors, there were also large windows that let in natural light.

"This is an amazing bedroom," he commented as Hyett began to put away the stacks of clothes from his bed. "You don't have to clean up because of me. Honestly, my bedroom could use a cleaning service compared to yours."

Wesley's wasn't that messy, but he didn't want Hyett to feel embarrassed. The only people who probably had spotless bedrooms were the ones who actually had a cleaning service or housekeeper. Two things Wesley couldn't afford.

But he liked Hyett's messiness because it offset Wesley's feeling that he was too broke to date a guy who could afford such a fancy home.

Since Hyett kept cleaning, Wesley grabbed the remote off the nightstand and turned on the television. He became lost in the baking reality show but was fully aware of Hyett moving around the room. When he grabbed the dirty dishes and walked out, Wesley kicked off his shoes and eased onto the bed.

Just for a moment, he closed his eyes, but when he opened them, the room was bathed in darkness and there was a solid, warm wall of heat at his back.

As carefully as he could, trying to minimize the pain, Wesley turned over then settled. He gazed at the man who was coming to mean so much to him. Since they'd met, Hyett had been there for him, looking out for him in all the ways that mattered.

Hyett's eyes slid open, as if he'd felt someone watching him. Then he reached out and brushed aside the hair from Wesley's forehead. "What a sight to behold when I open my eyes. How are you feeling?" His thumb brushed tenderly over Wesley's cheek.

"Still sore." Staring into Hyett's smoky eyes made something close to love blossom inside of Wesley, and he knew in that moment, this was the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

His mate.

Wesley slid his fingers through Hyett's silky hair, watching as his mate's eyes closed and a satisfied smile tipped the corners of his lips. He really was gorgeous, and made Wesley burn for just one touch, one caress from his strong hands.

Before he lost his nerve, he dipped his head and licked a long path from collarbone to earlobe. The skin was salty, but the scent reminded Wesley of rough leather and spice, something wild and untamed.

The man groaned then softly sighed. Wesley ran his lips over Hyett's strong jaw, smiling and aroused at the stubble grazing across his mouth. When he moved back toward Hyett's chin, Wesley took a chance and grazed his lips over his mate's, just a whisper of a touch, but enough to feel Hyett's warm breath tickle his skin.

Please don't reject me again. Hyett might have explained why he'd pulled away earlier, but the fear still remained. Wesley was damaged, and his mate was possibly the most breathtaking man he'd ever seen in his life.

Hyett turned his head, deepening the kiss. It was a consuming, dominating caress of lips. Wesley began to tremble, clutching Hyett's arms, a smoldering mess of heat and need.

Something pressed into Wesley's stomach. Hyett was hard, and getting harder with every stroke of their lips.

"I want to taste you," Hyett said against Wesley's mouth. His mate pulled away and reached for the button on Wesley's pants.

He grabbed Hyett's wrists to stop him as his heart beat wildly. Wesley's bravado vanished, leaving him a mess of self-doubts and fears.

"What is it?" Hyett's brows knitted together as he searched Wesley's eyes.

"My leg." He couldn't stop hearing the rando's cruel words in his head or remembering the horrified expression he'd worn that night.

It would kill him if Hyett looked at him the same way.

"Please, will you trust me?" He extracted his wrists from Wesley's death grip. "You've trusted me this far. Don't stop now."

They stared at each other as Hyett unfastened Wesley's pants, and then slid them down his trembling thighs.

"Trust me," Hyett whispered. Wesley closed his eyes, bracing himself when his mate slid down his body, taking Wesley's pants and underwear with him. Hyett settled between his legs then shouldered them apart.

Wesley's eyes flew open when he felt warm kisses on his inner thigh.

Hyett was kissing his scars. He wasn't horrified or calling Wesley all kinds of vile names. His breathing turned shallow as Hyett tenderly kissed and licked the skin as if it was flawless instead of a hideous mess.

Then he sucked Wesley's cock down his throat, using his tongue to trace the heavy vein. The feeling was so incredible it was a wonder Wesley didn't come right then and there. The way Hyett's throat worked with each swallow drove him insane.

"God, yes. Feels so…." His eyes slid shut as his mate turned him into nothing more than needy groans and hot aches. Wesley's breath hitched when wet fingers worked their way inside his ass, stretching him until he feared he would start drooling.

Hyett's talented mouth popped off Wesley's cock then moved lower, licking a long line from the base of his prick to his balls. The guy licked, sucked, and nibbled at his sac until Wesley couldn't take it any longer, his cock throbbing painfully for release.

"Fuck!" He blew his load, his ass clenching as his seed shot down Hyett's throat, pleasure hammering against every nerve ending in his body. His orgasm stole his breath and blazed hellfire through his veins. Somewhere in there, he croaked out Hyett's name.

Hyett licked the head of Wesley's cock, then slipped from the bed, removing his shirt and underwear before grabbing a bottle of lube from the nightstand. Wesley quickly sat up and yanked his shirt off before lying back down.

Then he spread his legs and Hyett slipped between them, lubing his cock before the head touched against Wesley's still-pulsing hole. "Fuck me."

His mate drove his cock deep inside Wesley's ass, causing him to cry out again. He tossed Wesley's legs over his arms then yanked their bodies closer.

"Mine," Hyett growled possessively, a savage look burning in his eyes.

"Yours," Wesley moaned. His mate thrust hard and deep, his thick cock stretching Wesley's lubed hole. His soft cock began to fill, hardening with every smack of Hyett's balls against his ass.

"I've missed this so much." Wesley lifted his hips. He curled his fingers into the bed, and stared up at the sight Hyett kneeling between his legs.

His legs. Wesley's gaze slid to his injured leg, exposed for the first time in front of someone who wasn't a medical professional. And Hyett gripped it firmly, as if he had no issue touching it. His hand glided down the length then back up, as if reading Wesley's mind and proving the discoloration and scars didn't bother him.

"You're beautiful," Hyett murmured, his cock thrusting in and out of Wesley's ass. "Every inch of you is beautiful, sweetheart."

Something inside of Wesley's loosened, breathing freely for the first time since the fire. He began to thrust downward on every forward flex of Hyett's hips.

"That's it, baby. Shove your ass onto my cock." Hyett threw his head back as a long, guttural moan escaped. "You feel so incredible. So tight. So fucking tight."

He dropped to one hand, his other stroking Wesley's cock. Now their faces were inches apart.

"Tell me if your leg starts bothering you."

Wesley nodded, but he doubted that would happen. If one touch erased the pain, then he had no worries since Hyett was practically lying on top of him.

He kissed Wesley tenderly, passionately, before pulling back and separating their bodies.

"Can you handle being on your hands and knees?" Hyett's erection was hard and protruding from his groin, glistening from the lube. "I know you're still sore, so I don't want to do anything to put you in more pain."

"Let me try." He wanted Hyett's cock back inside of him, so he was willing to try anything. And now that his mate had mentioned his soreness, Wesley noticed his side and back no longer hurt. It was official. He was strapping Hyett to him so the guy would always touch him.

He gripped Wesley's hips and gently turned him over.

"That is one gorgeous sight," Hyett moaned, causing Wesley to blush. His ass was sticking up in the air, and his mate was salivating over it.

He knew how to stroke a guy's ego.

"Spread your legs, baby." Hyett gripped Wesley's ass as he used his thighs to help spread them apart. His mate rubbed the head of his cock over Wesley's ring of muscle a few times, teasing them both.

His hole was aching to be filled again, not teased.

Finally, he felt the head push back inside his body. Wesley groaned at being so, so full. His hands still gripping Wesley's ass, Hyett started pounding inside of him. He matched Hyett thrust for thrust.

"Shit," Hyett hissed.

When Wesley looked over his shoulder, he saw that his mate had planted one foot on the bed, a look of raw lust in his eyes as his hips punched forward.

Wesley was making him look that way. It was his body bringing his mate so much pleasure, and that was a heady feeling.

Turning back around, Wesley closed his eyes, losing himself in the moment, in the sensations flooding him.

"Need to claim you," Hyett groaned. The man blanketed his back, and Wesley loved feeling the weight pressing down on him.

Until he felt a sharp pain slice into his neck. But the pain lasted only a second, followed by the most intense orgasm of his life. Wesley shouted, his seed spilling from his cock as Hyett pistoned into his ass.

A strange, wonderful sensation filled Wesley's chest, then it felt as if something snapped into place. His breath hitched in his throat as his heart stopped for a brief second before restarting.

"Hyett," he whimpered, unsure what was happening.

His mate licked at his shoulder then whispered, "Don't be afraid. Our souls just soldered together, sweetheart."

Hyett buried his cock and cried out, clinging to Wesley's hips.

They collapsed to the bed, then Hyett pulled Wesley close, cuddling him against his sweaty, solid chest. Wesley loved lying in his mate's strong arms. They made him feel safe, like no one could ever touch him.

Hyett nuzzled him, licking his neck.

Wesley chuckled. "Is this the part where you eat me?"

"I already did that, and your cock tasted amazing." Hyett kissed Wesley just below his ear.

"You now have the spot of our official first kiss," Wesley reminded him.

He felt Hyett smile against his skin. "A spot I plan to revisit as many times as you'll let me." He kissed Wesley's bare shoulder.

Chapter Eight

Durzi glanced at his phone when he heard the familiar ping. It was a text from Bailey saying Wesley was being discharged. At seven in the evening?

Although Durzi knew very little about humans and hospitals, even he was aware discharges normally happened around noon or maybe a few hours after. But this late?

He called Bailey.

"Hello?"

Why did the human sound as if he had no clue who was calling him? As many times as Durzi had texted the moron, his number should've been stored in Bailey's phone. "Wesley was just now released?"

"What are you talking about?" Now Bailey sounded even more confused. "I sent that text around one-thirty."

"So, you're telling me my phone is messed up, is that it?" Durzi snarled. "Or did you let Wesley know we were watching him and decided to give him a heads-up? Maybe give him and his father time to pack and leave town?"

God, he really hated humans. They were so untrustworthy. The guy had been given one damn job. Watch someone in a hospital bed. The task didn't even require traveling for fuck's sake.

"Hospitals are notorious for lousy signals. I just got off work and left the building, so the text probably just now went through. As much as I despise you, I wouldn't dare cross you," Bailey retorted.

At least the human wasn't afraid to speak his mind. He should be. "It's not like I have a soft spot for you either, dipshit, but keep talking smack and your coworkers will become your nurses."

Durzi had tried to think of a better threat, but his mind was preoccupied. He was getting hungry. It had been weeks since he'd last feasted on a soul, and he was starting to get hunger pangs.

If the hunger became any stronger, he might attack Morton. Can't have that .

"And his father wasn't released," Bailey said. "It was just Wesley."

Too bad Durzi couldn't pay the son a visit, but he couldn't, not without dragging Morton along. He chewed the side of his lip. Maybe he could drug Morton, toss him in the back of the minivan, then go have a little fun with Wesley.

He was beautiful, for a human.

"Hello?" Bailey said.

"You are a seriously irritating person," Durzi growled. "Go play in traffic."

He hung up and pocketed his phone.

Then cursed. What if he drugged Morton and that interfered with his signal jamming? That was a risk Durzi couldn't take.

He glanced toward the door when someone knocked. When he answered it, he found a smiling female standing there. A regular of Morton's.

Her soul would do just fine.

* * * *

Hyett couldn't remember the last time he'd been this happy, if ever. When he'd come back to his bedroom and found Wesley asleep, he'd sat there and watched his mate for the longest time.

It still didn't feel real to him. Hyett was 233 years old, but even before he had reached maturity, he was always on the lookout for his mate.

There had been a constant yearning inside of him—the same yearning every preternatural felt, what his father and brothers craved—to find that one person meant just for him.

The one person who would make him feel whole. Wesley was his one shot at true happiness, and Hyett would guard that one shot jealously.

Already he cared about Wesley. He might even go so far as to say he was lightweight in love with the guy.

And last night… Wow. Hyett had been asleep but had felt Wesley watching him. He'd thought they'd maybe cuddle, talk, or possibly watch some TV.

But he had claimed his mate.

A crowbar couldn't pry the smile off his face.

But their current conversation might.

"I just don't want you going back to your house." Hyett stood in the kitchen trying his best not to lose his cool. He wanted to argue that it was where his mate had just suffered trauma, but he didn't want to be so blunt.

"Even if I'm going to stay here for a few days, I need some things from my house," Wesley replied.

"Things that I can get for you." Hyett really did love his mate's personality, but Wesley's stubbornness was driving him up the wall.

"And how are you going to drive my car back here?" he asked with an arched brow. The guy was sexy as shit when he did that.

"I'll take one of my brothers with me. Besides, you don't even need it right now anyway."

"I do if I have to work tomorrow." Wesley glared defiantly at Hyett, as if daring him to find another reason he didn't need his car.

"I just claimed you last night." He gave the gentle reminder through clenched teeth. "Your boss is a wolf shifter. You get two weeks off, with pay, for your honeymoon period, babe. Besides, you're not even supposed to be out of bed."

Wesley stepped closer, dropping his voice and narrowing his pretty eyes. " I'm quite sure what we did last night i sn't considered bed rest. If I can perform acrobatics, I can work."

Hyett leaned down until their noses touched. "You twisted your body beautifully the three times we fucked because I was touching every inch of your soft skin. I won't be there to touch you at work." He pursed his lips and gave his mate a quick peck on his lips.

"Don't you dare try to charm me." Wesley pulled back and crossed his arms.

Hyett really didn't want to blow Wesley's mind. He didn't. But his mate was leaving him with no other choice. "Drug dealers threatened your life, Wesley. Do you honestly think I'm going to leave my mate alone at work? This is a lot more dangerous than you know. When my dad and I were on your porch, we smelled…"

Shit. Hyett ran a hand through his hair. If Wesley momentarily freaked out about wolf shifters and a preternatural's longevity, he was not going to handle the existence of demons very well.

"Smelled what?" Wesley still had a stubborn set to his jaw. "Whatever," he replied when Hyett didn't answer him. "Since you so casually dropped the fact my boss isn't human , thanks by the way, Cyrus can keep an eye on me."

"It's not his job to watch my mate!" The eruption came out of nowhere, leaving Hyett seething at the thought of someone else protecting what was his.

His canines also descended. Wesley dropped his arms and took a few steps back, visibly trembling as he stared wide-eyed at Hyett.

The sight of Wesley's fear forced Hyett's canines to recede, and he cursed himself seven different ways for scaring his mate.

"I'm sorry." He ran a hand down his face as his father entered the doorway to the kitchen, his brothers flanking him.

They would give Hyett a beatdown if they thought he was emotionally abusing or tormenting Wesley in any way. Mates were precious and protected, even if they weren't yours.

"Do we need to have a discussion outside?" his dad asked in a deadly tone.

"No, sir." Hyett didn't need his father to kick his ass. He was doing a fine job of it himself.

"Why don't you get some fresh air?" It wasn't a suggestion.

Killian slid past their dad and stood close to Wesley, the promise of death in his eyes.

"Really?" Hyett stared incredulously at his family. "I lost my composure for a goddamn second, and you think that means I'll hurt my mate?"

"It was longer than a second," Ryker snarled.

Wesley's gaze continued to flick between Hyett and Ryker as he trembled.

He walked toward Wesley, but Ryker stepped in his way.

"Move," Hyett growled.

"Fuck. You," Ryker gritted out. "Until you calm all the way down to zero attitude, I'm not letting you past me."

Hyett couldn't believe his family actually thought he would hurt his mate. He would take himself out before he raised a hand to Wesley. "Not that it's any of your business, but it was a heated discussion between me and my mate."

Hyett took a deep breath, forcefully expelling his anger.

"You made it our business when you raised a threatening voice at him," Quinton replied. "Maybe we can help."

Hyett didn't need moderators, but he saw his family wasn't going to back down.

"Wesley wants to go home to gather some things because he thinks Cyrus will watch over him tomorrow at work. He's my mate , not Cyrus'. I was just trying to find a way to explain to him why this situation is more dangerous than he realizes."

Hyett took another deep, cleansing breath. "Now, if you would, I need you to get out of my way so I can hold my trembling mate."

Ryker stepped aside. Hyett didn't ask. He just curled Wesley into his arms and held him close. " I'm sorry I lost my cool. But just so you're aware, no matter how upset I become, I would never hurt you, sweetheart."

Hyett's family knew he would never harm anyone smaller than him. But as a preternatural, he understood the significance of a mate. The most treasured individual in a nonhuman's life. With everything Wesley was already going through, he didn't need any added stress, which was why his family stood in the kitchen now. To cool the room down to zero attitude, as Ryker had put it. With Hyett's towering height, well-built frame, and bared canines, he had to look intimidating and terrifying. Maybe Hyett would take his dad up on his offer to get his ass kicked after all. It was no less than he deserved for scaring the shit out of his mate.

"If you ever show your scary teeth at me again, your family will be the least of your worries," Wesley said slowly and calmly.

Hyett's brows shot up, and then he grinned like an idiot. "Yes, sir."

He lifted his hand up behind his mate and flipped off Ryker. He might be upset with his father for thinking he would hurt his mate, but he wasn't suicidal enough to give his dad the middle finger too.

"Just outright tell him." Killian shrugged. "He hasn't broken yet, so I'm sure he can handle knowing—"

"Don't you dare," Hyett warned with a snarl.

"That demons exist," Killian finished with a smirk.

Wesley stiffened in his arms. Hyett let him go and went after his brother, but his dad blocked his way. "He needed to know the threat against him, son."

"Killian could have had more tact!"

"And you need to stop treating him like spun glass," Killian shot back.

"It's not your fucking decision how I handle my mate!" Jesus. Hyett was right back to being livid. If he'd known his morning was going to be this insane, he would've stayed in bed.

Quinton cuffed the back of Killian's head.

"What was that for?" he asked. "You just agreed with me."

"True, but Hyett is right," his dad said matter-of-factly. "You could have used tact and it's his place to tell Wesley one of the men after him is a demon."

Hyett rolled his eyes.

"If I h-had to pick, I would g-guess it's Seth," Wesley stuttered out. "He gives me the willies."

Hyett walked back to Wesley and embraced him. "I'm sorry you had to find out they exist." He glared at Killian, who just shrugged.

Dickhead .

Hyett could not wait until the guy found his mate. Payback was a bitch.

"Demons, really?" Wesley glanced up at him. Damn if Hyett's heart didn't pound out a symphony of love. His bear growled softly at just how breathtaking their mate was.

"Our world is filled with many different species, hon."

Taking a deep breath, Wesley took a step back and closed his eyes. Then leaned slightly forward as if bracing himself for impact while wiggling his fingers inward. "Give it all to me right now. I'd rather get it out of the way than keep getting shocked off my feet. What else exists? Just lay it on me."

Hyett glanced at his family, one brow hiked. He wasn't sure this was a good idea. They were supposed to be lowering Wesley's stress level, not shooting it into space.

Quinton splayed his hands. "You heard the man."

"Vampires," Hyett reluctantly said, and then before his mate could react, he rushed on. "Fairies, though some prefer to be called fae."

"Winged beasts," Ryker added. "They're the good guys, though."

"Life and Death are actual people," Quinton interjected. "They're also mated—but not to each other."

Hyett glanced at Killian. "Go ahead."

His brother gave him a grateful smile. The guy might be an ass sometimes—a lot of times—but Hyett loved the hell out of him.

"I heard ghouls existed, though I've never personally seen one. Shadow elves and wood elves, which are very different. Shadow elves have blue skin with pointy ears, and wood elves just have…"

Killian frowned. "They just have pointy ears. There're also different realms. Human, demon, and two different fairy realms. If you want to meet some fairies, we could introduce you to three of them. Our best friends are mated to them."

Hyett gaped at him. "Glad to see you restrained yourself."

Killian grinned.

When he turned to look at his mate, to his surprise, Wesley hadn't passed out on the floor—yet. "You okay?"

"Life and Death are actual people?" Wesley seemed more astonished than scared.

"You just handled this like a true Everhart." Quinton winked. "Welcome to our family, Wesley. Get ready for one hell of a ride."

"Our family might seem dysfunctional, but we throw down for each other," Ryker said with conviction. "Which now includes throwing down for you."

"I've never had…" Wesley glanced away with shimmering tears in his eyes.

Hyett curled his arms around his mate. "Now you have a family of bears at your back." He kissed the top of Wesley's head. "We're not going to let anything happen to you, love."

His mate drew in a deep breath and nodded. "Thanks, all of you."

"Hyett's right." Quinton leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb. "You shouldn't go to your house. Not only because of the demon but you were attacked there, son. It'll all come flooding back as soon as you step through the door. Are you ready to face what happened there?"

"Honestly, I'm still stuck on Life and Death being real." Wesley worried his bottom lip. He took a deep breath and nodded. "I can't keep running from left hooks. I'll grab my own stuff. If Seth comes near me, or being there becomes too much for me, my mate has my back."

Hyett kissed his temple. "Without a doubt."

Chapter Nine

The closer Hyett drove them to Wesley's house, the more Wesley began to realize this was not such a brilliant idea.

A reflexive habit in times of stress, Wesley rubbed his leg, but today there was no pain. He had even noticed it was gone this morning when he woke up. Despite not touching Hyett for over an hour, the pain still hadn't returned.

But Wesley wasn't going to fool himself into thinking it wouldn't come back.

He wasn't that lucky.

Jackson's drug use and gambling addiction were proof of that. Wesley had been completely unaware of both problems until they exploded into his life, along with drug dealers invading his home, one of them being a demon.

A freaking demon.

No wonder Seth had given off a creepy vibe. He may have been handsome on the outside, but there was something about him that made people instantly cautious and distrustful of him.

"Can we stop at the gas station? I have to use the bathroom," Wesley pleaded, sounding like a child who couldn't even last five seconds into a road trip without needing a pitstop. He wanted a moment to himself to freak out, and then he would pull himself back together.

Why on earth had he asked to know everything that existed in Hyett's world? Wesley was convinced he needed to get his head checked. But ever since making that foolish request, he hadn't had a single second to himself.

Just breathe normally, because if Hyett notices you panicking, he might not take you home.

"Right now?" Hyett asked. "We just left the house ten minutes ago. Why didn't you go beforehand?"

"Because I didn't have to go until now." Wesley was even more desperate, almost forgetting how to breathe.

Hyett shot him a curious look, but didn't say anything.

As soon as they parked in front of the convenience store attached to the island of pumps—Hyett's dad and brothers pulling up on their motorcycles behind them—Wesley made a beeline for the back of the store. He passed an almost empty slushie machine and a coffee maker with empty carafes.

The place used to be much cleaner when Alex worked there. Wesley wondered what had happened to him as he locked himself in the bathroom.

"Pull yourself together." He gripped the edge of the sink and extended one leg backward. "Who cares if you've been taking a lot of right hooks lately? You're now heading back to the most terrifying moment of your life."

Second most terrifying. Mustn't forget the fire.

Great. Wesley really was losing his ever-loving mind.

After splashing some water on his face, he grabbed a handful of brown paper towels to dry off. He turned toward the toilet realizing he did need to use it after all.

At least now he didn't feel so guilty for lying to Hyett.

"Ugh, gross." Why were public restrooms always so disgusting? It was as if people had completely given up on basic hygiene habits and turned into nasty little pigs when the toilet belonged to someone else.

Now Wesley needed to wash his hands and keep from touching anything on his way out.

He used the bottom of his shirt to open the door, wondering if there was any hand sanitizer on the counter by the register.

"Shit," Wesley snarled when he almost collided with Hyett standing directly outside the door. "We're going to have a talk about boundaries, buddy."

"I have to use the bathroom," Hyett said as if Wesley was being ridiculous.

Wesley placed a hand on his mate's solid chest. "Trust me, you do not want to go in there."

"I don't even want to ask." Hyett kissed Wesley's forehead.

"I didn't do it!" he quickly defended himself. "And can we please stop talking about it?"

He walked toward the snack aisle and grabbed a bag of gummy worms, hoping the sugary scent would help clear his nose from the unpleasant odor in the restroom.

Hyett grabbed a large bag of chips, several chocolate bars, a mega-sized bag of beef jerky, and two bottles of water.

His brothers and dad had come into the store and were already at the counter paying for their haul. How were they not a thousand pounds each with the way they scarfed down food?

"Is that all you want, babe?" Hyett asked, noticing Wesley's single bag of candy.

"Yep. I'm not a bear shifter with an insatiable sweet tooth like a family I know. On second thought…" Wesley strolled over to the "limited time only" section and picked up a small jar shaped like a bee and filled with about a teaspoon of honey. Grinning, he made his way back to his mate.

"Very cute." Hyett chuckled.

"I think so." Wesley was going to set it on the counter at work to feel connected with his mate whenever he had to be there. "Whenever I look at this jar, I'll always think of you."

After studying it for a moment, Hyett went back and grabbed the whole box.

Wesley laughed. "What're you doing?"

His mate counted the jars in the box. "Now you'll have nearly two dozen reminders."

"Dude, each one cost seven dollars." Which Wesley thought was outrageous for such a tiny jar. But he had to have it. Hyatt, on the other hand, was insane.

He did the math in his head, and his jaw slightly dropped. "Are you seriously going to spend over 160 dollars on these?"

"Whenever I open a jar of honey, I'll remember this moment." Hyett placed the case on the counter.

"What is with you and sentimental moments, Winnie the Pooh?" Wesley teased, still stunned Hyett was buying all of them.

He wasn't the only one. The clerk looked at Hyett like he'd lost his mind. "We sell much larger containers of honey for a heck of a lot less," he remarked.

"I'll take these." Hyett pulled out his wallet.

"I'm heading to the car before you buy something else insane," he said, starting away.

But his mate snagged the back of Wesley's shirt with a finger and pulled him back.

Hyett didn't say a word as he completed his outrageous transaction. Sighing, Wesley waited until his mate grabbed his things before they headed toward the exit, stepping aside to make room for two deputies entering the store.

"I highly doubt anyone will try to kidnap me from the checkout counter to the SUV." Wesley opened his bag of gummy worms and took a bite. "Plus, your family is parked right next to us."

"Whose responsibility is it to protect you?" Hyett asked once they reached the car.

"Winnie the Pooh's job." Wesley groaned, ready to bang his head against the SUV if Hyett reminded him of it one more time.

His mate narrowed his eyes. "You are not about to start calling me that. I'm much deadlier than him. Does he have a six pack like mine?" Hyett flexed his arms.

"Oh bother…" Wesley attempted a poor impression of the cartoon character.

His mood tanked when they reached his house. For a year he had walked through the door without issue, but it no longer felt like his safe haven. Not after he'd been attacked in his own home, and definitely not since learning what his father had been doing behind his back.

The rumbling of motorcycles died as Hyett's family parked and cut their motors.

"You don't have to do this, hon." Hyett brushed his knuckles over Wesley's cheek. "Just tell us what you need and they'll grab it for you."

Wesley closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "My dad caused the fire," he murmured, for some reason feeling compelled to tell his mate what happened.

"Babe."

Wesley held up a hand. If he didn't push through this, the nightmare would always have a tight hold on him. He was sick of the secrets he kept buried. All they had done was fester inside of him.

"He was high. That was when he'd just started using, but I naively told myself he was just tired from working all day. I didn't want to believe my own father was an addict, because prior to his addiction, he was a good dad, though we butted heads a lot."

Hyett slid a hand over Wesley's shoulder.

"Jackson had started hanging with a few guys he'd just met. I think they're the ones who got him started."

Wesley wiped at his eyes and bit his lip to stop it from trembling. Hyett's hand tightened on him. "We got into a huge fight because those friends kept crashing at our house. Freeloaders. A few things of mine also came up missing."

"His friends were stealing from you," Hyett murmured.

"Jackson was," Wesley admitted. "My mom's jewelry, which I'd treasured. My gaming system and other things he could sell to buy his drugs."

Hyett silently cursed.

"I went to bed that night, livid at my dad. I woke a few hours later to my bedroom filled with smoke. I couldn't see anything, so I had to feel my way through the house while I screamed my dad's name."

He balled his fists in his lap.

"I tripped over one of the freeloaders. The guy pinned me under him, telling me he would save me. He was so goddamn high he didn't even realize we were trapped in the same room with the fire."

My dad shoved the guy off of me, but the man grabbed my ankle just as the ceiling collapsed. My leg was trapped, and the ceiling fell on my dad's right side. The next thing I remember was waking up in the hospital."

Hyett easily lifted Wesley and placed him on his lap. His mate held him as Wesley breathed out slowly, determined to keep his composure.

"You're the first person I've talked to about that night. My doctor knows about my burns, but he doesn't know the part Jackson played in it. When I next saw my dad, he was doped up with hospital pain killers. I sat at his bedside, still recovering myself, when he confessed he'd accidentally set some papers on fire but was too baked to put them out."

Hyett's arms tightened and he laid his cheek on Wesley's head. "I don't know what to say, babe. If I'm being honest, I don't ever want you near your father again. He almost ended your life and then went into a debt with dealers, who threatened to kill you. Jackson has no regard for anyone but himself."

Wesley pulled Hyett down for a kiss. One meant to make him forget and remind himself he was no longer in this alone.

His mate pressed his hands against Wesley's head and deepened the kiss, telling Wesley without words he was there for him.

"I'll just go through the back door," Wesley said when they pulled apart. " There's nothing in the living room I need anyway."

"You let me know the moment it becomes too much for you." Hyett still held Wesley's head, making him look into smoky-gray eyes. "Promise me."

Wesley nodded. "I promise."

Ten minutes later, Wesley stood in his bedroom, embarrassed of the mess as his mate stood there with him.

Quinton stood guard in the front yard, Ryker in the back, and Killian walked through the house.

"It's no big deal." Hyett winked. "Glad I'm not the only one who leaves their cleaned clothes stacked on their bed and piles their dirty dishes."

"I was running late for work," Wesley lied. "What's your excuse?"

"I was running late for life." He chuckled. "I just really hate putting away clothes."

"Fantastic. We'll be living out of twice the piles in your bedroom." Wesley checked his closet but didn't see his backpack.

When did he last use it? Oh yeah. He'd tossed it in the closet by the front door. His heart began to hammer as he thought of walking in there.

"What is it, honey?" Hyett frowned at him. "Do we need to get some fresh air outside?"

"I just need my backpack from the living room closet," Wesley said on a trembling breath.

He hated that Morton and Seth had made him fear his own home.

No. The blame was shared. Jackson had a hand in Wesley's fear as well.

His father had a hand in a lot of Wesley's fears even before the fire.

"Killian," Hyett said in a normal voice from where he stood.

"Bathroom," Killian hollered back.

"How on earth did he hear you?" Wesley asked in confusion. His brother shouldn't have been able to hear him.

Hyett tapped his ear. "Heightened senses. He only yelled for your benefit."

The more Wesley learned, the more he wondered whether he was fascinated with Hyett's world or afraid of it.

"I'll go grab it." Hyett headed for the door. "Gather what you'll need. I'll be right back."

Wesley pulled open dresser drawers as Hyett walked left the room. He wasn't sure what to take, so he pulled his entire stack of underwear out. A guy could never have enough clean pairs. Now he wished he'd mated his socks instead of throwing them into a drawer and matching them when needed.

He stilled as the closest door to his left slowly opened. Wesley's heart pounded hard as he watched Seth walk out of it. He couldn't have been hiding in there. Wesley just checked his closet, and it had been demon free.

"We must hurry, Wesley. I'm risking being away from my signal jammer." Seth slapped a hand over Wesley's mouth and yanked him into the closet before he could scream.

* * * *

As he stepped into the living room, Hyett surveyed the chaos he'd caused in his desperate attempt to reach Wesley. The image of his mate lying unconscious on the closet floor was seared into his mind.

Closing his eyes, Hyett took a deep breath. It seemed Wesley wasn't the only one who'd been traumatized by what happened in this room. Hyett fought against the urge to turn and walk out, but he needed to grab Wesley's backpack.

Kicking aside plastic storage bins, he pushed away thoughts of how frantically he had yanked them out of the closet to find his mate hiding behind them.

Hyett kept trying to take deep breaths to calm himself down and still his spinning thoughts when he suddenly heard a stranger's voice.

"We must hurry, Wesley. I'm risking being away from my signal jammer."

Heart pounding, Hyett sprinted toward Wesley's bedroom just as the closet door clicked shut. He wasted no time in flinging it open, but there were no people inside. "Wesley!"

As Hyett began to hyperventilate, Killian burst into the bedroom. The demon had used the shadows, taking advantage of the darkness in Wesley's closet to sneak into his mate's room.

Why hadn't Hyett considered that possibility?

And where had the demon taken Wesley?

"Calm your breathing," Killian instructed. "We'll find him."

"It was my responsibility to protect him." Hyett turned to Killian as his father and Ryker entered the room. "I never should have brought him here. I practically handed my mate over to that demon."

Quinton quickly placed a call while Hyett struggled to catch his breath. The room began to spin, leaving him disoriented.

"Stay focused." Killian grasped his face. "You're having a panic attack, little brother. Focus and calm your breathing."

He couldn't breathe. Why was Killian telling him to do the impossible? His chest was tight, and it felt like it was being crushed.

"Hyett, concentrate on me," Killian urged, his voice laced with worry. "Look at me and take deep breaths in through your nose then slowly release them through your mouth."

"I-I can't." Wesley was such a brave, beautiful man, but he had been through so much already. Seth and Morton had threatened to kill his mate, and now they actually had him.

You have to calm down. Wesley needs you.

Hyett did his best to listen to Killian's voice and mirror his breathing. Gradually, his racing heart began to slow down and the room came back into focus.

"I have a location," Quinton announced. "A guy I know is familiar with the drug dealer named Seth. He gave me an address. Let's go get your mate, Hyett. I want my son-in-law back where he belongs."

Hyett felt his bear rise to the surface with a deadly growl. He had no idea who Seth was, but the demon was about to learn that messing with his family was a deadly mistake.

Chapter Ten

Wesley stumbled out of a door and into a hallway. Feeling queasy, he dropped to his hands and knees on the cold floor, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

How was it possible he'd just traveled through a closet from his bedroom to this place? It seemed inconceivable, yet here he was, in a hallway that wasn't his own.

Now that he knew Seth was a demon, he didn't want to get up.

"It's not Friday." Wesley held his stomach as it twisted into knots. Had Morton changed the deadline then sent Seth to retrieve him? Were they about to kill him?

"Change of plans." Seth hoisted Wesley up by the back of his shirt.

It had been endearing when Hyett had tugged on it, but it was frightening as hell with Seth. Wesley could feel the immense strength of the demon. The same strength that had left him with a bruised kidney.

Strangely, his side and back hadn't hurt when he woke up this morning.

If Wesley somehow survived this, there were definitely some questions he needed to ask his mate.

Seth dragged him into Morton's living room. The man himself was lounging on his couch in nothing but a pair of boxers.

Wesley cringed and gagged, the nausea returning.

"What the hell?" Morton appeared startled when he spotted them. "You just went to the bathroom a few minutes ago," he said to Seth in confusion. "How did you come out with Wesley?"

It seemed Seth hadn't told the drug dealer he was a demon. Wesley wished he was ignorant of the fact as well.

"You were just bellyaching that I needed to find him and bring him here." Seth released his grip then gestured at Wesley. "Well, here he is. Happy now?"

Morton struggled to get off the couch before glaring at Seth. "I've made it clear that I run things around here, not you," he sneered. "Are you looking to be replaced?"

Wesley watched as Seth's jaw tightened. This was the first time he'd seen tension between the two. They normally were in sync with each other.

Instead of responding, Seth plopped down onto the couch and casually draped an arm over its back.

"Shall I teach him how to run drugs, or do you want the honor?" he asked Morton.

Wesley's heart raced as he glanced between them. Was this their new plan? Instead of killing him, they would turn him into a goddamn drug runner?

His breathing grew heavy as he wondered if Hyett would even know where to find him.

Despite all that talk about being responsible for Wesley's safety, he'd been kidnapped anyway.

But who could have predicted the demon would use Wesley's closet as some kind of portal?

Hyett was probably beating himself up right now for failing to protect him, but it wasn't his mate's fault.

It was Jackson's for dragging his son into this situation in the first place.

Morton turned his muddy-brown gaze on Wesley. "How did you get inside my house?"

Wesley glanced at Seth, who sat there giving him a death stare.

I just came out of the closet .

No, now wasn't the time for jokes. Besides, Wesley had never been in the closet a day in his life.

Will you stop?

He couldn't help it. Knowing Seth was a demon only amplified his fears.

"You were asleep on the couch when Seth brought me through the front door," he lied, trying his best to hide his trembling.

Seth winked at him with a sly smile while Morton considered his lame story. "I did doze off a few times. I must've taken quite a nap if he was gone long enough to grab you."

Wesley really wished Morton would put some clothes on. Not because of his size, but because of his slimy personality. Wesley would prefer not to look at the guy's body while being forced into becoming a drug runner.

Seth stood and walked away, returning moments later with a handgun. Then he held it out to Wesley.

Was this some kind of test? Why would he be given a weapon when he was being held against his will?

"What do you want me to do with this?"

"Rob a bank." Seth gripped Wesley's wrist tightly then placed the gun in his hand. "It's for protection in case someone tries to rob you, dipshit."

The gun felt like it weighed a ton. Wesley dropped it and shook his head. "I can't shoot someone."

Slowly, Seth bent and picked it up then aimed it at Wesley's head. "Either you shoot the person trying to rob you, or I shoot you." A malicious smile curled across his lips. "It's an incredible feeling of power. Having someone's life in your hands. You would be amazed at what people will do when you point this little thing at them."

Wesley couldn't breathe. He had never seen such pure evil in someone's eyes before. It felt like he was staring into the cold face of death.

"Put that damn thing down before you accidentally shoot him," Morton interjected.

Seth's gaze remained fixed on Wesley, his smile still present as he spoke with heavy-lidded eyes. "I don't do anything by accident."

Finally, he lowered the gun, allowing Wesley to release a sharp breath of relief. The thought of shooting someone sickened him, but he would endure that feeling for a chance to end the demon.

He regretted not having the courage to use the gun when Seth had given it to him.

Wesley wasn't even sure if bullets could kill a demon, but he wanted the chance to find out. Never before had he felt such intense hatred toward someone.

Still smiling, Seth beckoned Wesley to follow him. "Come with me and I'll run everything down to you."

Glancing to his left, he saw the way Morton studied Seth, as if just now realizing how unstable the guy was. Wesley had figured that out the first time they'd met. How could Morton have been so oblivious?

Turning, Wesley had taken a few steps, praying for a way out of this nightmare situation when a knock sounded on the front door.

Morton walked toward the door and pulled it open, seemingly unconcerned with the fact he was only wearing boxers.

Wesley's heart hammered when he saw Killian standing there. Where was Hyett? He wanted his mate so badly he was on the verge of tears.

Killian scratched at his shoulder, seeming fidgety. "I was told you could help me out."

What was the guy up to? Wesley hoped this was some sort of ruse because Killian was too good at making it seem like he needed a fix.

"I have no clue what you're talking about." Morton closed the door, but Killian quickly blocked it with his hand. "C'mon, man. Help a brother out. I got three grand to spend."

Hyett's brother continued to ignore Wesley's presence. It was as if he didn't even notice him standing there.

"Who referred you?" Morton asked suspiciously.

"Hyett."

Wesley's heart leaped at the mention of his mate's name. He wanted to beg Killian to look at him, to acknowledge he was standing there, to ask why Hyett hadn't come himself.

"Never heard of him." Once again, Morton tried to close the door.

But Killian stopped him again. "You really should stop doing that," he snarled. "It's starting to piss me off."

Seth sniffed the air and then gripped Wesley's upper arm tightly.

"He's a real son of a bitch when he's mad," Hyett spoke in a low, menacing tone as he emerged from the kitchen with his hands clasped in front of him.

Wesley nearly broke down crying as he gazed at his mate. Seth's evil expression moments ago was nothing compared to the deadly glint in Hyett's smoky-gray eyes.

"Who the hell are you two?" Morton demanded.

"Bears." Seth curled his lip.

Hyett turned his head. "Demon, I believe you're holding someone who belongs to me."

Wesley didn't care that Hyett had just claimed ownership over him. Because it was true. His mate owned him completely.

"What are you men talking about?" Morton demanded. "Bears and demons? Get out of my house!"

Seth raised the gun and aimed it at Hyett.

"No!" Wesley grabbed the demon's arm, yanking on it to stop the guy from shooting his mate.

The gun went off. Wesley screamed and spun to see if Hyett had been shot, while his ears rang from the deafening sound. His eyes widened in shock when he saw his mate transforming into a massive brown bear.

Holy shit. It was the most terrifying, yet most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. But mostly terrifying.

Morton crumpled, crashing into the coffee table on his way down. At first, Wesley thought he'd passed out from seeing Hyett shift. But then he noticed the hole between Morton's eyes. Wesley spun around, wishing to god he hadn't seen it.

"Do you have any idea what you just made me do?" Seth shouted. "You dumb fucking human!"

Quinton and Ryker appeared behind Wesley and Seth. Quinton quickly grabbed the gun, disarming the demon.

The gigantic bear charged forward. Swear to god, Wesley wanted to scream and jump out of the way. Okay, it was no longer beautiful. Wesley was sticking with terrifying, because that was how it looked having a massive bear racing toward him.

Seth erupted into fire.

Now Wesley really was screaming, but Killian appeared at his side and yanked Wesley away, slinging him toward the front door.

The bear attacked, not seeming to care the demon was on fire.

Wesley stood rooted to the spot as he smelled singed fur, unable to move or look away, transported back to the night his father had set their home ablaze. He could recall the horrifying pain when his leg caught fire. His father's agonizing screams for help. How Wesley had shoved and shoved at the freeloader, trying to push him away.

The demon's fiery attack came to an abrupt halt as a tall stranger with black flowing hair and eyes the color of gravestones purposefully walked into the room. He was taller than Quinton, and as he grabbed Seth by the throat, he lifted him off his feet and away from the bear's sharp claws and teeth.

"I knew I would find you, Durzi," he snarled. "Snakes always slither out of hiding."

Hyett shifted into his human form, gloriously naked. "That's my kill, demon!"

The hypnotic hold of the fire loosened its grip on Wesley, allowing him to finally process Hyett's words. Another demon?

"What is your grievance, bear?"

"Who are you?" Quinton asked calmly, but there was tension in his muscles, like he was ready to battle.

This was Wesley's family now, and he would throw down with them.

Even if he got his butt kicked.

"I am Whichello," the demon replied. "Durzi will pay for his betrayal. So, I will ask you again, what is your grievance, bear?"

"He attacked my mate, threatened to kill him, then kidnapped him," Hyett ground out. "Unless he's done something to your mate, my grievance takes precedence over yours."

Whichello turned his head and looked directly at Wesley, and he never wanted the demon's attention on him ever again. It chilled him to his bones.

The demon's jaw clenched. "If one more goddamn person takes a kill from me…" he griped as he released Seth, or Durzi, or whoever he was.

Killian moved to stand at Wesley's side and smiled reassuringly at him. "Do me a favor and look away."

"Why?"

His expression softened. "Because you don't need to see this, Wesley. Please."

Wesley didn't think he wanted to see it either. He turned his head, and Killian placed his large hands over Wesley's ears.

Everything was muffled, but he could still hear the sound of bones crushing and a weak attempt at a scream. He shivered and closed his eyes, going to his happy place.

Which was the moment Wesley had looked up into smoky-gray eyes staring down at him as he sliced mushrooms, a whimsical expression on the gorgeous man's face.

It was the exact moment Hyett had stolen his heart and taught Wesley how to truly live again.

* * * *

Hyett had Wesley pinned against the kitchen counter, his lips grazing along his mate's neck.

"Can you please stop"—Wesley moaned—"before we get caught..." He struggled to catch his breath. "Making out."

"Then I'll just have to poke out the eyes of whoever sees us." Hyett was starting to get an ache in his back. He grabbed his sexy mate by the hips and lifted him onto the counter. "Much better."

"I'll have you know five-feet-eight is average height," Wesley huffed. "I can't help it you shot up to six-six."

Hyett nuzzled his mate's neck. "It just makes things a lot more interesting."

Wesley tilted his head back and moaned as Hyett continued to explore his sensitive skin. "You're right. This is much better."

"Are you sure you have to work this afternoon?" Hyett slid his hands around Wesley's waist then under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin and reveling in the sensations it caused.

"It's been three weeks since I took the wrong pain meds. I can't keep leaving Cyrus shorthanded." Wesley scraped his nails over Hyett's back. "My two-week honeymoon period is over. I can't repay my boss's generosity by calling off work."

Then Hyett was dealing with limited time. "Hang on, sweetheart."

Cupping Wesley's ass, Hyett scooped him off the counter and hurried upstairs. Laughing, Wesley clung to him. His mate's laugh was the most amazing sound in the world.

After everything Wesley had been through, Hyett would cherish every precious laugh, smile, and the way his mate glanced at him when Wesley wanted to be held in his arms.

As soon as they entered their bedroom, Hyett used the heel of his foot to close the door then headed for the bed.

"Hang on." Wesley playfully slapped at his chest. "Is this why you came up here an hour ago?"

With his mate still clinging to him, Hyett slowly turned, showing off what he'd done for his mate. All twenty-something miniature jars of honey were strewn around the room, some hidden, some displayed on surfaces in their bedroom.

"It's so…" Wesley blinked several times, and Hyett saw the man was holding back tears.

"So I can think about our day together when we got these." He kissed just below Wesley's ear. "When you have to go to work, all I have to do is look at the jars and feel closer to you."

"You act like my job is halfway across the world." Wesley cleared his throat. "It's ten minutes from here to the pizza parlor."

"Feels like a million miles away when I'm not with you." Hyett lay his mate on the bed, extracted Wesley's limbs from around his body, then pulled back. "I almost lost you too many times, sweetheart. Even this close is too far away." Hyett's voice was low and rough, as if caught on the edge of a growl.

He made quick work of stripping his mate naked then shedding his own clothes. Wesley panted as he looked up at Hyett, excitement coloring his cheeks, his lips kiss swollen.

Fuck, he was the most erotic sight Hyett had ever seen, and he was about to devour the guy whole. He grabbed the bottle of lube from the nightstand. "Are you sure you can't call off?"

He wasn't trying to make Wesley irresponsible, but he also wanted to make love to the man for the rest of the day.

"Stop trying to make me think," Wesley replied in a breathless voice. "All I know is that I want to feel you pounding my ass."

Hyett curled an arm around Wesley after he lubed his fingers and inserted two into his mate's ass. That was where he wanted Wesley, wrapped around him, close, needing and wanting him.

"Feels good," Wesley groaned. His pretty eyes sparkled with anticipation, his body radiating so damn beautifully Hyett not only wanted to fuck the guy but drown in him.

Wesley tilted his head back, moaning, pulling at Hyett's hair. He loved it when the guy yanked at the strands. It showed him just how desperate Wesley was for him.

"Need you inside of me." His mate locked his fingers around Hyett's nape and pulled his head closer as Hyett licked his way from one side of Wesley's neck to the other.

"What did you just say?" He asked as he sucked at Wesley's Adam's apple.

God, he couldn't think. He was too drunk with lust, need, and he just didn't want to use any brain cells right now. His hands kneaded the tender flesh of Wesley's ass, spreading the cheeks apart as he slid his fingers between them and shuddered.

"Fuck me." Wesley shoved his tongue down Hyett's throat.

He sucked on Wesley's tongue as he slid his fingers in and out of his mate's tight body. Wesley moaned and rested his forehead against Hyett's collarbone, panting, wiggling his ass for more.

A rumble vibrated in Hyett's chest as he nipped at his mate's shoulder, inserting a third finger before stretching them apart, working them in and out of the constricted space.

"That feels so fucking good," Wesley said in a moan. "I'm not sure if I can wait."

"Then get on your hands and knees." Hyett growled the words as he rolled to give Wesley room, but he was momentarily blindsided as he stared at the picture Wesley made.

The guy was resting on his knees, ass tilted upward, his fingers curled into the bedding.

Fuck. Me .

It sent a sharp pulse of arousal straight to Hyett's groin, his cock thickening even more. Wesley writhed, moaning, his backside glistening with the lube. Hyett's cock grew even harder.

"Don't just stare," Wesley whimpered.

"Baby, I'm about to do more than ogle your tight little ass," Hyett said before he moved in behind Wesley and poured some lube on his cock. He tossed the bottle aside and shoved Wesley farther up the bed, positioning him so that his ass lined up with Hyett's erection.

Never had he wanted anyone this badly. He brushed his hand over the small of Wesley's back and reveled in how soft his skin was, like brushing his hands over silk.

A wave of insane possessiveness washed through him, and he couldn't believe just how much he loved the man.

Wesley looked over his shoulder, and their gazes locked. Hyett was rocked to his very foundation at the raw need blazing in Wesley's eyes.

He pressed his knees on either side of Wesley's then ran his fingers down the man's spine. His mate's eyes fluttered closed as a breath escaped.

"Are you ready for me?" he asked as Wesley released his hand.

"Yes," the guy whispered. "Take me."

"Do you know just how beautiful you are?" Hyett wrapped his fingers around his cock and pressed the head to Wesley's entrance. "So fucking beautiful."

His mate whimpered before Hyett thrust forward, burying himself balls-deep, causing Wesley to cry out. Hyett pressed his palm into the center of Wesley's back, relaxing him, steadying the man.

"You feel so good beneath me," Hyett breathed, his voice a deep half-groan.

He gazed at Wesley's white-knuckled grip on the covers and waited until the man's stranglehold eased. When Wesley let out a shuddering breath and nodded, Hyett began to move, cursing under his breath at how good Wesley felt, at how right this was.

Sliding his hands up Wesley's chest, Hyett pulled the man to him, rocking inside his ass as he placed his hand over the guy's throat. He tilted Wesley's head to the side and grazed the tip of his canines over the soft skin on his mate's shoulder.

"I want to ride you," Wesley said in an almost pleading tone. "I want to see your eyes as you take me."

Hyett groaned. "All you have to do is ask."

"I just did." Wesley grinned.

Hyett pulled away then turned, lying on his back as Wesley slid his leg over his hip and then settled. He gripped his cock and held it erect as Wesley lifted his hips, then slowly sank down the hard shaft.

"Much better," Wesley said with a moan.

Gripping the guy's hips, they locked gazes before his mate began to move. Running his tongue over his lower lip, Hyett tucked his hands beneath his head and watched as Wesley used him however the fuck he wanted.

Eternity with Wesley was not going to be enough.

His mate looked dazed as he rode up and down Hyett's cock. Soon Hyett couldn't sit there and observe any longer. Using every muscle in his body, he yanked Wesley close and shoved his cock even deeper.

Wesley cried out, lifting and dropping, trying to meet Hyett's thrusts. He rocked into his mate, and Wesley rolled up to him, the pressure building between them. Once the two of them were in sync, their bodies moved together like an erotic dance. Hyett's biceps bulged as he forced Wesley to move faster. He watched as his mate's cock leaked pre-cum over his stomach.

The tension gathering inside Hyett was about to release… If he kept up his long, deep thrusts… So close…so close…

He began to groan his words—curses, promises, erogenous things he wanted to do to his mate. They rushed from him as he swelled even more inside Wesley.

Ecstasy lighted Wesley's face right before he began to come, jets of milky-white seed shooting between them. He yanked Wesley to him and sank his canines into his mate's shoulder.

Their bond strengthened, and Hyett felt it in his soul. This was the man he would spend his life with, the one man who meant everything to him.

"Hyett!" his mate cried out, and he could feel the man's ass milking him, his muscles clenching, making his sheath so damn tight that Hyett had to work in order to keep thrusting inside Wesley.

The tendons in Hyett's neck were taut as he came. He growled around Wesley's shoulder before he slid his canines free and sealed the wound with a few strokes of his tongue.

Wesley collapsed against Hyett's sweat-soaked body, breathing raggedly as he nuzzled his mate's neck, his heart thundering in his chest.

Wesley brought Hyett to his knees. He would give this man anything he asked for. His mate already had his heart, and he would even give his life. Wesley was his, and the connection was so deep Hyett knew he wouldn't be able to breathe without his mate.

And he wouldn't want to. He and Wesley were bonded for the rest of their perfect lives.

THE END

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