George's Turn [Brac Pack 8] (5 page)

George ran back and looped the rest of the rope around the guy, knowing it wasn’t going to hold him for long.

George dragged the guy back over to Tank and tossed him on the ground. Turning to the mountain of a man, he thinned his lips. “I ain’t being claimed, Tank.”

“Why not? I’d be gentle. Don’t let my size scare you.” Tank softened his eyes on him.

“Gentle? You saying we got to have sex?” George laid his cowboy boot on the vampire’s chest to stop him from getting up.

“Well, yeah. That’s how I would claim you.” Tank looked at him like it should have been obvious.

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“I ain’t no one’s bottom boy. I top. That’s what I do.” George put his hands on his hips, blowing up a puff of air to knock away the bangs that had fallen into his eyes.

“Uh, guys. I’m not hungry anymore, so I’ll just be on my way.” The vampire lying on the ground tied up spoke.

“Shut up,” George and Tank said in unison.

“Don’t you think you need to call for backup? Ain’t gonna hold him for long.” George pointed behind him at his capture.

“Fine, but we’re not finished with this conversation.” Tank pulled out his cell phone and talked rapidly into it, sliding it back into his front pocket.

“Oh, we’re done. Wolf or no wolf, claim or no claim, I ain’t doin’

it. You ain’t toppin’ me.” George dropped down on the wiggling vampire and sat on his chest, and then he cocked his arm back and punched him in the face.

“What was that for?” the vamp yelled.

“Sit still.” George pointed a finger at him in warning.

“Be reasonable, mate. How else am I supposed to claim you?” Tank walked over with the other vampire still in his hand.

“Guess I’ll have to top you. Should work the same.” He crossed his hands over his chest.

“No, it wouldn’t. I have to be inside of you when I bite you.” Tank threw his arms up in frustration, the guy lifting with his move.

“Why can’t I bite you? Be inside of you?” George bit out.

“Duh, you have no canines, at least not long enough. Besides, I don’t think it works that way.”

George fell on his ass when the vampire broke the ropes and got to his feet.

“I ain’t that damn hungry.” He turned around and stormed off toward the woods. “Crazy-ass people around here, I swear…” he mumbled as he disappeared.

“Now see what you done did—”

“I did? You’re the one being so damn difficult.” Tank tossed his
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capture to the ground and stepped chest to chest with his mate.

“To hell with this.” The second vampire got to his feet and took off after the first one.

“Me? You’re the one who wants to fuck me. No way, no how.” George stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest. Telling Tank in no uncertain terms that it wasn’t happening.

Headlights flooded them, and three large guys got out of the truck with a look of bewilderment crossing their faces. They looked from Tank to George, their eyebrows furrowing.

“That way.” Tank jammed his thumb over his shoulder, pointing in the direction the pair had taken off in.

The three nodded and ran, shifting as they entered the woods.

“Where the hell did I move to? Brothers Grimm? Wolves and vampires. Next you’re gonna tell me trolls live under a damn bridge somewhere.” George paced over to his truck, leaning against it, crossing his ankles. “Seems we’re at an impasse, Tank. Sorry, I ain’t bottoming.”

Tank rubbed his hands over his head, looking like he was ready to punch someone out. Maybe the guy should have held onto the vamp a little longer and taken his frustrations out on him. Whatever the case may be, George wasn’t budging.

“Okay, just once then. Long enough to claim you? We can argue over topping after that until the cows come home,” Tank pleaded.

“No.” George pushed off his truck, walking back to the rear of the diner.

“George,” Tank called out to him.

“No,” George shot over his shoulder as he disappeared.

“Fuck,” Tank yelled in frustration, loud enough for George to hear him.

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Chapter Four

“I’d like to invite you to dinner at my house.” Tank stood inside the kitchen, watching George cook. Man, if he wasn’t a gorgeous sight. Tight denim jeans, midnight-blue T-shirt stretched over an impressive chest, and black cowboy boots to top it off. Tank fought the urge to toss his mate over the marble countertop and fuck his brains out.

“Okay. You do know I don’t get off until nine?” George turned around and stared at Tank, his blue eyes twinkling in the light.

Tank wanted to lick the goatee around his mouth and nip at the soul patch under his bottom lip. “Yeah. Pick you up then?”

“I can drive. Just give me your address. Shouldn’t be too hard to find.” George spoke softly, and Tank’s hard-on throbbed in his jeans.

His mate looked like one of those boy-next-door types. Handsome, rugged, and drool-worthy.

“Okay, I’ll go write it down.” Tank pushed the kitchen doors open and headed back into the dining area. He reached under the counter for a scrap sheet of paper, borrowing a pen from the cup filled with them by the register.

“Got a date?” Cody asked quietly as he walked next to Tank

“Yeah, he’s agreed to come to dinner. What do I feed someone who can cook when I can’t?” Tank scribbled down the address and the directions. It was an estate buried far back from the country road, set back into the forest for privacy and room for the wolves to run and be themselves.

“Takeout?” Cody suggested.

“Never thought of that. Maybe I can get two to-go orders.”
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“Tank, I wouldn’t suggest having him cook what he’s gonna come over and eat. Try the Chinese place in town. I hear they’re pretty good.” Cody chuckled.

“Right. Never thought of that.”

“Tank have mate?” Keata asked from the stool by the register.

“Almost, little buddy. Almost.” Tank ruffled Keata’s hair as he stepped back in the kitchen and gave George the directions, both men staring at one another for a moment. Tank knew George felt the pull, and that’s why he kept agreeing to see him. Now he just needed him to agree to the claiming, which was easier said than done.

* * * *

George checked the paper Tank had given him then looked back up at the massive house he was sitting in front of. This couldn’t be right. The place was huge. There were at least ten pickups lining the gravel drive and three large SUVs. Did Tank have a party going on in there?

George cut the engine and opened his door. He stood there for a moment wondering if he had the right address. He spotted Tank’s half-ton truck and knew he was in the right place. Taking a deep breath, he climbed the steps and rang the doorbell. He wasn’t much of a party person. Maybe he could make an excuse and get out of there.

“Can I help you?” A small man answered the door. He looked like his boss’s mate, Keata.

“I’m here to see Tank.” George stepped back when a large man growled and grabbed the smaller man into his arms.

“Haven’t I told you about answering the door, dragonfly?” George noticed the guy’s eyes swirled with different colors. It was hypnotizing. The little man laughed and kissed the larger man, hugging him close. A part of George envied the love they obviously had for one another. He wanted something like that for himself.

And to be so open with it? That was a pipe dream for George.

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“He’s here to see Tank.” The little guy wrapped himself around the larger one.

“Come on in. You must be George. I’m Storm.” Storm stuck his hand out and shook George’s. “And this little man is my mate, Kyoshi.”

“He looks like Keata.” George stepped into the foyer, noise assailing him immediately. He heard whooping and loud rock music that threatened to burst his eardrums.

“You know my cousin?” Kyoshi beamed.

George’s nerves were beginning to fray with that heavy metal music. He was expecting to see kids run out of there with the loud video game noise. “Yeah, I work at the diner. He’s there a lot with Cody.” He glanced at the room with noise again. Maybe he should have popped a few aspirin before he got here.

“You must be the new cook Frank hired.” Storm led him to a room any man would be envious of, except for the loud music. There were two suede couches to the left with a poker table behind it, and four short men sat at it playing poker with…pretzels? They were using pretzels instead of poker chips. He looked off to the right and saw a large billiard table with two large men playing a game and a full bar to the left of that. A dartboard hung on the wall close to the pool table.

George looked over when he heard yelling. In front of the couches was a large flat-screen television, and two men were jumping around, shouting curses at each other while playing a video game. George wished he could find the mute button and turn the damn music off.

His headache was getting worse from it.

A small man ran up to him, his golden curls bouncing as he ran,

“I’m Johnny. You must be George, Tank’s mate.” He hugged George.

George stood there stunned, the little appendage hanging on to him for a brief moment before letting go. A growl ripped through the air, and George’s head snapped up to see the fiercest man that he imagined could be a person’s worst nightmare. The kind of man you
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crossed the street to avoid. He had blue-black hair and stood as tall as Tank, except this guy looked like he just walked out of the bowels of hell.

“Sorry, Johnny gets a little excited.” The man turned around and picked the little blond up. “What have we talked about, pretty baby?”
Pretty baby?
George’s head was spinning. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. He felt out of place. It was like little guys versus big guy in this place, and George was in between. Well, not all the guy’s were short. Two of the guys sitting off in a corner looked to stand just a tad shorter than George. They were sitting at the poker table, and they also looked similar to one another. They must be related. One had piercings decorating his ears and bottom lip. The other had hair all the way to his waist in a raven-black color.

“You made it.”

George turned around to see Tank standing behind him, smiling.

Tank looked amazing. George had no clue he could be turned on as much as he was by black fatigues and a black T-shirt that had to be a size triple X. The damn shirt stretched across a chest so full of muscles that George wanted to lick his lips.

Tank wasn’t even his type, but George knew a hot guy when he saw one, and he was looking right at one. He swung his head around when he heard clatter over by the pool table. Two large men were standing chest to chest with each other, the man with black-and-blond hair was snarling.

“Don’t pay any attention to Murdock and Gunnar. They’re just competitive.” Tank chuckled. “They’re harmless.”

“Yeah, they really look harmless.” The one with the black and blond hair stood a few inches taller than George. He looked like he was a world-champion weight lifter with all the muscles he sported.

The other one was George’s height and with the same blond hair he had, only this guy was more firm, not bulky. George thought he was insane for challenging the other guy.

“Come on, let’s eat.” Tank led him down a hallway that seemed to
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have a thousand doors. George noticed mahogany double doors that were open revealing an expansive library. These guys must be loaded.

He felt slightly intimidated by that. He was just a poor country boy trying to get by, and here these guys were living it up. He wasn’t jealous of their wealth. It was just overwhelming. As a poor farm boy, he wasn’t used to such luxuries.

“I was going to have us eat in the formal dining room, but it seemed a little impersonal. I hope you don’t mind the kitchen.” Tank led him into a large open kitchen with a breakfast table that sat eight.

The kitchen had green marble countertops and a chrome side-by-side refrigerator. It was beautiful. He smiled to himself when he saw that Tank had set the lighting low and had candles burning in a romantic setting.

Tank pulled his chair back, waiting for him to take it.

“I told ya I ain’t a girl.” George scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Humor me for tonight. Please?” Tank reached out and traced his fingers down George’s forearm, causing him to get gooseflesh.

“Fine, but if you stand when I do, there’s gonna be trouble.” George heaved a sigh and allowed Tank to scoot his chair in.

Tank walked around to his side and began serving what looked like sweet-and-sour chicken. Did Tank cook this, or did he order it?

George bit the inside of his mouth to stop the smile. He knew Tank had worked hard at this, and he wasn’t going to complain or laugh at him. He appreciated the effort the man had gone through to impress him.

“I hope you like Chinese. I never thought to ask.” He poured the red sauce over George’s chicken, his hands shaking slightly.

“That’s good.” George put his hand up when Tank tried to add more chicken to his plate. “Thank you.” Tank smiled and sat back down, looking at George’s plate and then back at his. He scooped a small amount of rice and chicken onto his plate.

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George pointed his fork at Tank’s plate. “I know you eat more than that. Don’t stand on ceremony on my account. Eat up.” George took a bite to cover his smile.

Tank tossed the fork down and grabbed the bite-size chicken with his fingers. He glanced up at George and chuckled as he placed another nugget in his mouth. Tank was trying really hard for him.

Tank gulped.

“You okay?” George set his fork down, staring at Tank with concern.

“Yeah, you’re...just so breathtaking.” Did the big fella actually just blush? George’s defensives lowered at the sight of this big galoot being so unsure and nervous. It made him feel ten feet tall, powerful, knowing he was the cause of Tank’s vulnerability.