Handful of Mate Read online

  

  Maple Grove 26

  Handful of Mate

  [Siren Publishing: The Lynn Hagen ManLove Collection: Erotic Romance, Contemporary, Alternative, Paranormal, Shape-shifters, MM, HEA]

  Nester’s life was quickly falling apart. After being lured to Maple Inn by his ex-boyfriend, things got out of hand real fast. Nester had to defend himself, and in doing so, killed Scott. Now Nester is on the run from the cops, but he dropped his cell phone, and if Nester wanted to stay alive, he needed to get it back. With nowhere else to go, he wandered the streets, until he runs into a man who saves his life.

  Pyke knew right away that Nester was his mate, and the guy was hiding secrets. He wasn’t sure how to help Nester, so he offered him as job as his housekeeper. Things went downhill from there. Nester had a thug after him, and the only way Pyke knew to protect him was to find Dublin first and end him. But things never turn out as planned, and as Pyke tries to protect Nester, their night’s heat up, until Pyke was shot, and his only hope of survival was his mate.

  Length: 29,000 words

  HANDFUL OF MATE

  Maple Grove 26

  Lynn Hagen

  

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  Handful of Mate

  Copyright © 2020 by Lynn Hagen

  ISBN: 978-1-64637-311-6

  First Publication: December 2020

  Cover design by Emma Nicole

  All art and logo copyright © 2020 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  If you find a Siren-BookStrand e-book or print book being sold or shared illegally, please let us know at [email protected]

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lynn Hagen loves writing about the somewhat flawed, but lovable. She also loves a hero who can see past all the rough edges to find the shining diamond of a beautiful heart.

  You can find her on any given day curled up with her laptop and a cup of hot java, letting the next set of characters tell their story.

  For all titles by Lynn Hagen, please visit

  www.bookstrand.com/lynn-hagen

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  HANDFUL OF MATE

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  HANDFUL OF MATE

  Maple Grove 26

  LYNN HAGEN

  Copyright © 2020

  Chapter One

  Crouched behind a tree just inside the woods, Nester wiggled around, trying to get feeling back into his legs. He was cold, tired, and very hungry, but he was trying to wait until the restoration crew at the motel finished for the day.

  Already it was dark outside, and every little noise made his heart beat just a little faster.

  If only Scott hadn’t forced his hand. If only his ex-boyfriend hadn’t made Nester kill him. Nester kept replaying the event in his head over and over again, wishing he could have done things differently.

  But Scott had forced Nester’s hand. Nester’s ex had set the room on fire and then came after Nester with a gun, threatening to kill them both. What the hell else was Nester supposed to do? He’d tried to get out of the room, but Scott had been much bigger than him, and faster.

  Even though Nester had only defended himself, he was terrified of what the police would do to him, so he’d taken off. They could charge him with involuntary manslaughter, which was Nester’s worst nightmare considering he wasn’t built for prison. He’d become someone’s bitch in a matter of minutes. His slim physique, blond hair, pretty lips, and mannerisms would make him instant prey.

  Nester wasn’t sure if it was the cold or the thought of prison that made him shiver as he stared from behind the tree, watching as the last guy got into his truck and pulled away.

  The room was clear. Now all Nester had to do was find his phone. It was the only way he would get out of this mess. Partially, at least. He was still guilty for killing Scott, but there was nothing he could do about that.

  What was done was done. There was no coming back from that. He’d turned into a killer in an instant, and that thought still made him want to throw up.

  A killer.

  Wouldn’t his mother be so proud of him? She’d voiced her opinion about Scott when Nester had first started dating him. Nester had ignored her warning because her opinion hadn’t mattered to him.

  Nothing about Norma Jean had mattered to Nester in a long time. Sure, she acted like she cared. She always fooled others with her caring mother routine.

  Nester ground his teeth. Norma Jean was the last person he wanted to think about. He already felt like shit. Thoughts of her only made him feel worse.

  Too bad his dad wasn’t still alive. Nester had been close to him, two peas in a pod. That was something Norma Jean had hated. She was someone who always wanted to be the center of attention, in the spotlight, and Nester and his father had had a bond that would be considered more of a close friendship than father and son.

  But the cancer had won, and now Nester was left without his best friend.

  Checking to make sure no one else was outside, Nester slipped from the woods, nearly tripping over tangled roots, and quickly made his way to the rented room he’d been lured to.

  Lured.

  That was the perfect way of putting it. Scott had tricked Nester into meeting him there. Had planned on offing them both. Nester had come that close to losing his life.

  He rushed toward the motel room door, trying his best to dodge around the security lights so he wouldn’t be seen.

  If it hadn’t been for the sun setting so early, Nester would have had to wait a few more hours in the cold woods. He normally hated this time of year, but it was working to his advantage.

  Nester tried the door handle and cursed when he found it locked. Who was he kidding? If men were restoring the room, then it had already been cleared.

  Which meant his phone had already been discovered. Probably. But he had held out hope that some kind of miracle had been waiting for him.

  Clearly it hadn’t.

  He would still try and get into the room to make sure, but right now he needed somewhere warm and dry, preferably with food and a soft bed.

  If he didn’t get his phone back, he was a dead man. Looking around to make sure he was still alone, Nester eased his way around the building, his feet crushing the weeds jutting from the sidewalk.

  Damn it! The bathroom window—the one Nester had crawled out of to escape the room—was locked. Now what? He had nowhere to go, no money, and he was tired, cold, and hungry.

  Maybe if he turned himself in, he could get fed and given a place to sleep. How bad could the town jail be?

  “Do you think the jail is a motel?” he grumbled to himself. “You turn yourself in and you’re going to prison for a very long time.”

  Nester was still kicking
himself in the ass for trusting Scott in the first place. That was what he got for falling for a pretty face. He should have known it was too good to be true. Guys like Scott didn’t normally date guys like Nester.

  It was some unwritten rule in the cosmos.

  Nester’s heart twisted as he looked around, feeling lost and unsure what to do. He could track where his phone was if he had his laptop, but he’d left that in his apartment in Falls Bend.

  By now the cops had checked out his apartment. Nester had no doubt about that. He was a murder suspect. He’d watched from deep in the woods that night, had seen the firefighters putting out the fire, and had watched Scott’s body being taken away.

  By now they had his prints, because Nester had touched a lot of surfaces in the room when he tried not to get shot by Scott.

  His life was over.

  Then again, if he didn’t get his phone, he wouldn’t have to worry about seeing the inside of a prison. Dublin McLeay would torture Nester slowly before ending him.

  A thought struck him. What if there was an internet café in town? All Nester had to do was sign into his account and ping his phone’s location.

  With that little bit of hope, Nester hurried toward the road and made the long, cold journey toward town. He wandered aimlessly, searching for a coffee shop.

  When he found it, Nester nearly shouted in joy.

  Until he realized the coffee shop was closed for the night.

  Crap.

  Spending another night outside was a gloomy thought. Last night he’d bedded down in the woods, trying to use the foliage as a blanket.

  He was surprised he hadn’t died from hypothermia.

  With sagging shoulders, Nester took a seat on the bench next to Bistro. Hot, wet tears stung his eyes. He used the back of his hand to wipe them away as he looked out over the town.

  The smell of the diner reached him, and Nester’s stomach picked that moment to rumble. He started across the street, ready to offer labor in exchange for food, but hesitated.

  He was a wanted man, and showing his face around town would be a really dumb move. He eased away from the diner door, tucking his hands back into his jacket pockets, and headed down the dark street.

  He passed the police station and stopped for a brief second, contemplating turning himself in. That would solve his hunger pains, his tiredness, and the chills that clung to him.

  But he wasn’t going to prison for defending himself. He wasn’t going to let Scott ruin his life any further. He would just wait until tomorrow. Then he’d go to the café and find out where his phone was.

  If it hadn’t died. If it had, he wasn’t sure what he would do. Calling his mom wasn’t an option. She would insist he go to the police.

  Not to clear his name, though.

  Norma Jean would want the attention and would feel self-righteous that she’d talked a murderer into turning himself in. Anything she did was for her own gain. Norma Jean never did anything out of the kindness of her heart.

  Nester slowed when he heard voices coming from an alley. They sounded heated the closer he eased toward the mouth. Nester peeked around the corner and gasped when he saw a giant drive a knife into the other person’s chest.

  Nester yanked his body back, slamming his back against the brick wall as he tried to remember how to breathe. He’d just witnessed a murder, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it unless he was willing to risk his own freedom to do the right thing.

  It wasn’t as if he’d gotten a look at the giant. The alley was dark and filled with shadows. This was none of his business. He didn’t need to get involved.

  Damn it! He should’ve stayed in the woods and died of cold and hunger. Now his conscience was telling him to help the stab victim, to make sure a killer didn’t get away.

  Which was ironic since he was a killer, too. Even though he’d been defending himself, the guilt still ate away at him. Nester had never taken a life, and the weight of what he’d done still sat heavily on his chest.

  He started away, trying to be as quiet as possible, but when he turned, the killer stood right there, blocking Nester from moving.

  Wait. Nester recognized him. The stranger was one of the men restoring that motel room. He’d watched them work, fascinated with the giant.

  Nester’s heart nearly stopped beating as he gazed at the man in jeans, a white dress shirt, and a leather jacket. He was the most masculine man Nester had ever laid eyes on. His shoulders were broad, his chest wide, his waist tapering down to sculpted thighs.

  As the guy stepped closer, Nester saw the aquiline nose, the trimmed beard that traced a strong jaw, and lips that were firm and sensual.

  Nester’s entire body broke out in a deep sweat as his cock jerked in his jeans. The stranger’s black hair and dreamy gray eyes, surrounded by thick eyelashes, gave him a roguishly sinful appearance.

  “I swear I didn’t see anything!” Nester stumbled backward, horrified at just how tall the stranger was. He had to be at least six feet five inches or maybe six inches.

  His muscles seemed to flex and contract as he stared right into Nester’s face. “What exactly didn’t you see?”

  Was that a trick question? Nester opened his mouth, but all that came out was a strange burping kind of noise. “I’m-I’m just t-trying to g-get home.”

  “What’s your name?” The stranger’s voice was as smooth as whiskey, deep, rumbly, and for some asinine reason, Nester wanted to tell him that.

  Nester blinked several times, reminding himself that this guy had just killed someone in cold blood. So why was Nester so freaking attracted to him?

  He backpedaled some more, trying his best to put distance between them. His heart was beating so hard and fast that he should have gone into cardiac arrest. “I swear I won’t say a word.”

  Like that ever worked in the movies. This guy wasn’t about to let him walk away. Nester was a witness, even if he couldn’t go to the cops.

  His stomach rumbled even louder than the last time. Nester pressed his hand over it, praying he wasn’t about to die cold, hungry, and tired.

  “How about I buy you dinner?”

  That was the last thing he’d expected the stranger to say. Nester looked over his shoulder, wondering if he could run fast enough to get away.

  “I’m Pyke Haswell.” Pyke held out his beefy hand, but Nester refused to touch it. “I really would like to buy you dinner.”

  Was that a bribe to silence him? Food? He opened his mouth to tell Pyke that he wasn’t interested, but the smell of the diner wafted toward him on the cold breeze.

  Being inside would help to warm him, and Nester would get a meal out of it. “Just dinner?”

  Pyke’s smile was devastatingly handsome. “That’s all.”

  Nester looked toward the alley.

  “Vampire.” Pyke chucked a thumb over his shoulder. “Nasty one, too. Be glad I ended him before he could cause havoc.”

  Okay. So Pyke was insane, too. “Um, vampires don’t exist.”

  Pyke rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll prove it to you.”

  Nester shouted when Pyke grabbed his hand and dragged him down the alley. This was it. Pyke was going to kill him, and no one would be the wiser.

  They stopped at the foot of the body. Nester gagged, fighting the urge to throw up when he saw a big hole in the dead guy’s chest.

  “You have to remove their heart. Their head, too, but you interrupted that.”

  Nester was dealing with a full-blown maniac.

  “Look.” Pyke bent on one knee and pulled back the stranger’s lip.

  Nester gasped when he saw two sharp, gleaming fangs. They had to have been cosmetically done. The dead guy had to have gone to a dentist to achieve the looked. There was no other logical explanation.

  “No.” Nester shook his head. “Vampires don’t exist.”

  “I just showed you that they do.” Pyke got to his feet. “And I’m a bear shifter.”

  Nester’s head spun. He pressed a hand i
nto the wall to stop from fainting. Had he died in the woods from exposure? Was this some weird purgatory?

  “How about that meal?” Pyke patted his large flat stomach. “I’m starving.”

  “Am I dead?” Nester looked from the fanged guy to Mr. Crazy. “I’m dead, aren’t I?”

  “Maybe I should have eased you into the truth, but I don’t believe in hiding anything from my mate. I wanted you to know up front what was going on.”

  “Mate?” What planet was he on? He really had to be dead. This was too bizarre to be real.

  “Yeah. Fate thought we would be perfect for each other. I knew as soon as I smelled you.”

  Nester needed a hot shower, but he didn’t think he stunk. “You’re delusional.”

  The guy laughed. “I’ve been called worse.” He grabbed Nester’s hand and dragged him back to the street. “Do you know Cyril makes everything homemade?”

  “I have no idea who Cyril is.” Nester tried to yank his hand free, but Pyke had a tight grip on it. He was also having a hard time keeping up since Pyke’s legs were outrageously long.

  “The guy who owns the diner. By the way, you still haven’t told me your name.”

  “Nester.” He winced when his name came out before he knew he would say it. Great, now the crazy killer knew who he was.

  “Well, Nester, you’re in for a treat.”

  He opened the diner door, and Nester’s stomach cramped from lack of food. Regardless of what Pyke was, Nester needed to eat.

  He would worry about what to do after his stomach was full. “I’m flat broke.”

  “I said I was treating.” Pyke led them to a booth. “I’ll have to let Sheriff Copache know about the vampire before someone stumbles across him.”

  The sheriff? Nester broke out in a cold sweat. He kept glancing toward the door as a large, burly man approached their table.

  “Hey, Moose.” Pyke waved at his menu while Nester had a mental breakdown. “I’ll have the fried chicken and fries. Why was Bistro closed so early?”