Chapter Two
Soren
Groaning, he flopped naked across the motel bed, having opted to just pay for the extra day's rental on the car so he didn’t have to worry about unpacking in the rain.
He could worry about that, and apartment hunting tomorrow.
He’d already amassed an unfortunately truncated list of locations to try, but with any luck, there would be more in the local newspaper. If this place even had a newspaper.
Shit, he’d forgotten to check.
Another thing to put on the checklist for morning, when he hoped the sun would be out, or he’d be forced to rearrange his itinerary and budget yet again. He really needed one of the places he’d spotted online to pan out.
Speaking of which, it was only three o’clock.
Despite how dark the sky was, thanks to all the storm clouds hovering, he could still make a few phone calls once his phone had charged a little.
He had dry clothes in his bag to put on tomorrow and his wet ones had been so soaked he’d just gone ahead and washed them in the shower, wrung them out and hung them over the shower rod to drip into the tub while they dried.
It would do until he could find the laundromat and wash the rest of the clothes he’d dirtied up on his journey.
It was a hell of a way to land in a new place, looking like a sodden cat who’d narrowly avoided being swept into a storm gutter.
He’d feared being turned away at the motel, but the older lady behind the counter had just given him a kind smile and the keys to the room after he’d presented his debit card.
It had been a relief, though the one thing he hadn’t been able to enjoy fully was the hot shower he’d stepped into.
As much as it had warmed his exhausted, shivering body, it had also washed away the lingering scent of the man from the road.
A rather delicious, enticing scent that had left his blood singing and his inner bird eager to tweet out a happy tune. He’d smelled a little like a rhino, but Soren hadn’t been certain due to the heaviness of the rain.
The thought of asking him had been terrifying, especially after the way he’d appeared like a ginormous shadow of goodwill and not only changed the tire, but helped move everything back into the trunk, too.
Well, more than helped. He’d accomplished the task far quicker than Soren ever would have been able to manage.
Thank the fates that everything of any importance had been in totes.
The few boxes he’d taped to hell to keep things from spilling out.
The tape would have helped keep some of the rain out, and what was in there—his pots and pans, along with a wide assortment of cooking implements—wouldn’t have gotten damaged by the rain.
And that was why a final walkthrough was so important.
Because even when he’d sworn he’d gotten everything, he’d proven himself wrong.
At least he hadn’t found out at this end where it would have been too late to do anything but replace them.
They were stoneware too, one of the few things he splurged on.
Cooking was therapeutic for him. Even when he only had himself to feed, he enjoyed taking the time to carefully dice, season, mix and fold ingredients in to create layers of flavors.
And meals he’d never have been able to afford to eat if he weren’t making them in his own kitchen.
It always amazed him how many things one could do with the same ingredients.
Sometimes, to keep things interesting and challenge himself, he limited himself to bulk amounts of the same ingredients, just so he could turn them into different dishes throughout the day.
The tomatoes, spinach and mushrooms in his breakfast frittata were just as amazing with bacon, orzo and cheese at dinnertime.
Back when he’d still had a family, they’d praised his culinary efforts.
He’d held the position of chef within their huge household of extended family members, three generations.
Listing add-ons, sleep porches, and hand-built additions to the original family home had made for a hodge-podge of a structure.
It had been cozy and warm until the men had come to their land and started hunting the rhinos, who had always protected them.
What could a flock of birds do to defend those who’d always been their protectors?
They could spy. Could act as lookouts. They could carry messages to members of the crash in secret, since they mostly went unnoticed.
Mostly.
But still the rhino numbers had diminished, as had theirs, as the attention of the unwanted visitors had turned upon the oxpeckers.
It turned out they hadn’t flown completely under the radar.
The men who had only seen them as minor nuisances, suddenly realized just how much they’d been doing to try to keep the rhinos out of their grasp.
Seeing the elimination of the oxpeckers as essential to their goal of securing the rhinos, they’d turned the full scope of their attention upon them, and slowly the house full of laugher Soren had loved so much, had become one of grief, mourning and sorrow.
And through it all, he’d kept them fed and tried to make the day brighter by making cheerfully arranged dishes out of whatever they had on hand.
Now all he had was the ability to brighten his own day with his food.
Unless he got lucky not only in his apartment hunt, but in his job search as well.
He’d even be willing to be a personal chef if someone were looking for one.
He just wanted to find a place to belong to again, and people whose lives he could make a little happier through his food.
Arlo
His mate, Taggart, stood in front of him, so then why did he still have an ache in his chest directly related to the man he’d helped on the road.
He’d followed him all the way to the motel, just to make certain he’d gotten there safely, and he’d lingered, even after the man had waved before he’d rushed inside.
Something had called upon him to remain in the parking lot until after he’d emerged and moved his car around to the side of the building and parked it in a space in front of a room.
Arlo had cringed at his creepy, stalkerish behavior while doing it, but he’d felt a sense of responsibility towards the man after helping him, and it had felt good knowing that he was somewhere safe. Even when driving away had hurt.
Now he was staring into his mate’s eyes, and he knew Taggart wasn’t wrong.
They were mates, but he was still at war with those niggling questions that lingered about the man in the car.
Was it possible that, like Cosmo, he had two mates instead of one?
And if that was the case, how was he supposed to interject that possibility into the conversation he now desperately needed to have with Taggart?
Conversations regarding computers and the information Arlo had come to help him extract, was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment. Taggart’s wide-eyed expression was full of hope and a burning need that would have had him backpedaling if the door weren’t already at his back.
Okay, Enforcer, get a grip on yourself.
Right now was clearly not the time to have a conversation with Taggart about the potential of another mate.
Taggart stood poised as if he were waiting for Arlo to reject him, and that wasn’t about to happen.
Instead of moving backward, Arlo slid his hand up to cup Taggart’s cheek, then gently drew him into an embrace so he could inhale his scent and kick-start the mating bond.
Maybe it wasn’t the best thing for his brain to start breaking the process down like it was a mission, but it was the only way he had of handling things.
And right now, his mission was clear. Reassure his mate.
Bond with him. Then discuss the possibility of their third mate.
Once Taggart understood with all certainty, that checking out the possibility of a third didn’t mean that Arlo didn’t want him.
It just meant that the protector in Arlo was willing to take responsibility for them both, if the other man belonged with them.
Taggart
Arlo, he could tell, was assessing him. How he felt about that, he couldn’t say.
The feel of Arlo’s hand against his skin, warm and inviting as he drew Taggart closer, clouded everything.
His vast chest shuddered as he buried his nose into Taggart’s neck, taking in his scent.
It was so intimate that Taggart’s body came alive with need.
Soft, full lips brushed gently against his bounding pulse.
Somehow, the gentle touch quietened his mind.
He moaned as Arlo slowly slid his mouth up towards his ear, nibbling at the chord of his neck. “You’re mine,” he rumbled.
Taggart whimpered in agreement when his mouth was too dry to get the words out at Arlo accepting him. Wanting him, with the obvious scent of his arousal clouding Taggart’s senses.
“What do you want from Daddy right now? Can you tell me?”
The low, rumbled words sent shivers through Taggart. The genuine interest was so stunning to Taggart, words tumbled out of his mouth. “I love a sucky, can I have Daddy’s cock as my sucky to claim you?”
Snort—rumblings came out against his skin as teeth nipped at his neck. Then Arlo was sliding the huge hand into his hair, angling his head so they could look at each other. “You’re a sassy boy, aren’t you?”
It came out as a question, but Taggart could hear it was more of a statement. “I am, you should know that before you decide to—”
“Darlin’ you’re mine.” Arlo’s lips were a hair's breadth away from his, he could taste his sweet breath on his. “If that’s what you want.”
Taggart was so eager, he didn’t consider how close they were as he nodded eagerly and cracked his skull on Arlo’s wet head. “Ouchieeee,” he cried at the hardness of Arlo’s skull.
“Oh, darlin’!”