A hillbilly and a former Marine walk into a bar sounds like the opening line of a joke. But it's no laughing matter for Tyler Warboys when werewolf alphas Rocky and Blaze Blackstone enter the Byte Bar, the computer repair store where he works.
Tyler is instantly attracted to the huge, powerful, but allegedly dangerous creatures. And, miracle of miracles, they feel a connection to him, too. But how can that be? Tyler is human and Rocky and Blaze are not. However, the alphas can smell a faint something on Tyler that has them wondering if he isn't as human as he's always thought. But as Tyler has never shifted, how can he be a werewolf?
So many questions, but between the three of them, they are bound to find some answers. Surely three isn't always a crowd, especially where love is concerned?
"VPN, Virtual Private Network. Basically it means it's harder for people who're sitting near you to see, electronically speaking, what you're doing on your phone." Tyler was proud of himself for not nerding out and singing the praises of VPNs. They were awesome tools that he recommended to everyone.
The werewolf smiled. God, that just ramped up his sex appeal a thousand percent. "Yes, that's right. That's what it was. Rocky said we should load one of them PVNs on our phones."
"Rocky?" Tyler asked before he had a chance to think better of the question.
"Rocky Blackstone. He's my mate." The werewolf smiled again.
Tyler's mouth to brain filter was still on the fritz because he blurted out, "You're gay?" He always defended his curiosity as a desire to learn. But he had no defenses against this huge slab of raw muscle and testosterone. He took a step back, out of range of flying fists, although he was sure his customer could vault over the bar with ease to attack him. Unfortunately, the curse of the swivel chair struck again. Tyler's foot and the star base became reacquainted. His arms windmilled but he was going down. His ass hit the deck with some force, but at least he managed to hold onto the werewolf's phone.
And speaking of the werewolf, he did indeed vault over the bar with ease. Tyler closed his eyes, hoping his demise would be both quick and painless.
"You okay, little one?" The voice was deep, caring, quiet, and inches from his ear. At six feet even, few people could refer to him as little, but he guessed this ... man beast could.
"Think so," Tyler squeaked, still not willing to open his eyes. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to pry. I'm not homophobic or anything. I'm gay myself." Realizing he was starting to babble again, he forcibly shut his mouth.
The next thing Tyler knew, he was being scooped up off the floor. His eyes snapped open, but his vision was filled by seemingly acres of olive drab clad chest. He couldn't help his high-pitched girly squeak of alarm.
"I got you, little one." The werewolf pressed Tyler to his chest and began to rub gentle circles on Tyler's back. "I got you," he repeated, voice low, slow, and ... soothing?
Tyler couldn't understand what was happening. His fear seemed to just melt away. His mind, usually, no, make that always, teeming with thoughts, emptied. He took in lungfuls of the man's scent—he smelled of loamy earth, of dried pine cones, of mulling spices and ... Oddly, the werewolf was sniffing Tyler back.
"I didn't get a chance to shower this morning." But rather than the thoughts of how disgusting he must smell to a creature with enhanced senses, Tyler just made the statement and didn't obsess over it.
The werewolf took another deep sniff. "You smell just fine to me. Familiar somehow."
"Familiar?" Tyler was sure they'd never met before. He would have remembered. Thinking he really ought to separate himself from the werewolf's embrace, although he sure didn't want to, Tyler wriggled in the creature's grip, which instantly loosened. "Thanks, uh, for saving me. I'm such a klutz sometimes." Make that all the time, his internal voice said. Tyler winced at the return of his noisy thought processes.
"Glad I was here to help." The werewolf held out a massive paw to Tyler. "Blaze."
Tyler was confused. Then it clicked. He was called Blaze. Of course. Tyler would have slapped his forehead but he'd learned long ago it didn't make any difference. "I'm Tyler. Tyler Warboys." He accepted the handshake, his hand being swallowed up by Blaze's massive hand.
"Blaze Blackstone." Blaze shook Tyler's hand. For such a strong man, his shake was incredibly gentle.
Tyler's brain quieted again with the contact. What the fuck's going on? his mind screamed once contact was severed. Blackstone. Wasn't that Rocky's last name, too? "You're married to Rocky?"
"He's my mate."
"Oh, sorry. I just thought with you two having the same last name you'd ... Uh, sorry, never mind."
Blaze smiled again. "We both have the same last name because we're both members of the Blackstone Pack."
"Shit, of course! Just like the Brady Pack in Days of Our Werewolves."
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