Chapter 1.

Grayson glared at the big trucker who was having a cigarette in the doorway of the hardware store. “Get out of my way.”

“Fuck off,” the guy muttered back, but moved out of the way regardless.

The trucker may have been over a hundred and twenty kilos, but most of that was flubber. Grayson, on the other hand, tipped the scales over ninety-five and had less than five percent body fat.

He growled and stomped past the guy, gnashing his teeth with the need to plough his fist into something. He hated going into town more than anything. It was unavoidable, but one day, hopefully, it would not be necessary.

“Can I help you?” The cute little blonde behind the counter greeted him with a smile and way too many pheromones wafting off her tiny body.

“Yes.” He grunted. Bloody humans. “I need all these supplies, in these quantities.” He handed over the list of what their pack required for the next six months and the woman's mouth dropped open.

“Do you need delivery? Or…”

He shook his head, his eyes unerringly straying to her upper right arm. She wore a short-sleeved store uniform polo, so if she’d had the mark he was looking for, it would be visible. “No, I have a couple of trucks parked in the delivery section out the back. The men know me. Just give them the list and tell them Grayson’s here.”

She flushed a charming pink and nodded, scurrying off towards the back of the store.

He leant against the front counter and groaned. What in the hell was he looking at some little human girl for?

Because you’re getting desperate, that’s why.

In their pack, only the males were shapeshifters. The females didn’t change with the moon and were vulnerable in comparison to their men. Most of the men found their women born through the pack, but his mate, unfortunately, wasn't one of them. None of the women of their community, nor the men for that matter, carried his mark.

Male shapeshifters were born with a birthmark that was distinct only to them. Baby girls of wolf-born parents were born with no birth marks, however, a mark appeared once they turned twenty-one.

Their perfect mate would have the same mark, in the same place. It was a straightforward and easy way to know who fate had designed for you. It had worked for their pack for centuries, and everyone believed wholeheartedly in it.

He’d turned thirty-five on his last birthday, and he still hadn't met a woman, wolf born or human, that had his black, gnarled tree-shaped mark. It was frustrating as hell.

“I... I told them. Do you pay like normal or do they bill you?” The woman now looked flustered, her teeth lodged into her painted bottom lip. What had those idiots said to her?

“I’ll pay now. Can you ring it up?”

She nodded and ran to the computer, tapping away for what seemed like hours. He really should learn to ring ahead.

His father was one of the five Alpha's in their pack and Grayson had a Master’s in business. Thus, he managed most of the pack’s assets.

The woman, rather timidly, named an obscene amount of money and he handed over his credit card, with a limit on it that could buy a nice house in the city. She put the card through with shaking fingers and handed him the receipt.

“Thanks.” He nodded his head at her, walked back out of the front door, and into the fresh air.

One more stop and he’d be back up the mountain. Back home.

He found the men out the back and helped them with loading the wood, paint, nails, brushes, plaster, and fifty other things that were needed to build houses. Their pack was expanding, and they had to keep up with the growing demand.

“Thanks for that.” He waved at the three burly guys who’d loaded his supplies and turned to the men from his pack who were driving the other two trucks. “See you back at the ‘Borough. I’ve gotta make one more stop before I head back.”

Terry and Jarrad nodded their understanding and Grayson closed the truck door with a loud thunk.

Time to go back to the ‘Borough. Thank God for that. He jumped in the cabin, drove to the petrol station and jumped out. They needed more supplies for the few cars they had, he’d have to set up some sort of transport for more fuel, next week.

He filled the truck with gas, stopped to pick up his new laptop, and got back in the truck cab. Grayson hit the accelerator and headed out of the city again. It was time to take their security up another level. He had to speak to his father about cameras on the perimeters, and some of the outlying farms needed a lot better protection from the ‘Rogues’. A rogue group of Betas who had bucked their packs traditions. They’d chosen the road of outcasts rather than fall in line with the roles they were born for.

Rain splattered on his windscreen, so he flicked on the wipers. It grew heavier and heavier the further out of the city he drove. They were lucky it rained so much on the mountains. Their fields were green and lush, their crops abundant.

He rounded the small hospital on the corner and said goodbye to Melbourne for another couple of months.

A small car ahead of him swerved right into oncoming traffic, narrowly missing a white sedan that swung their car out of the way.

“Hey buddy, watch out. Whatcha doing?”

The car hit a huge puddle and spun out. Grayson slammed on the brakes, the weight of his truck impossible to slow down as the small red car slammed into the passenger side door.

It hit with a loud bang and sickening crunch, then ricocheted off and headed towards a tree like a runaway train, smashing into it.

“Holy crap!” His heart pounded so loud in his ears it sounded like a bongo drum, and sweat broke out on his brow. Damn, that's crazy.

Grayson pulled the heavy truck to a stop and his gaze flew to the small car he'd inadvertently run off the road. Was the driver ok? Were they drunk? What the hell?

He put the car into park and jumped out of the cabin, the cold rain pouring down on his head, soaking him in seconds. He cursed as his heart raced with adrenaline. This was the sort of stuff you saw in the movies, not on empty roads in country Victoria.

“Hey! You ok?” He called out to the car that had smoke billowing from the bonnet and glass shattered over the front of the car and ground.

A groan sounded, and Grayson's heart rate began to gallop. “Fuck.”

They were alive. Barely, by the sounds of it.

He moved around the truck and reached the car's window. He pulled open the door and saw the driver for the first time. Grayson's whole core tightened and burned, and he grabbed his heart, feeling it burst and flame.

What the fuck was that? He gasped for breath and opened his eyes. He hadn’t realized they were shut. In the mashed up little red car, sat a stunningly gorgeous man, probably in his late twenties.

His brown hair held a red tinge to it and sat loosely around his face, almost to his shoulders. He also had blood pouring down one side of his face from a gash just above his right eye.

“Oh shit, I’m going to help you out, ok?”

He tore his wet T-shirt off and ripped it into several strips with shaking hands. It looked so easy on TV. He wrapped two strips around the man's head wound and jumped as something sparked under the hood of the car.

“That’s gonna go up. I’ve gotta get you out.”

The man’s head lolled around, as though he understood what Grayson was saying and was trying to reply.

“Good. Let's go.”

He reached into the car and put his arms under the man, lifted him out of the car, and pulled him back towards the truck. He had to get him out of the rain, away from the car and somewhere safe.

He didn't smell like he’d been drinking. In fact, a scent unlike anything Grayson had ever smelled reached his nostrils. He inhaled sharply, getting even more of the tangy orange. His cock hardened in his jeans and he gasped, his knees shaking as he staggered to his truck, pulling open the door and dropping the man inside.

Blood soaked through the shirt fashioned bandages, and the young man was getting paler by the minute.

Despite his superhuman strength, the power flew out of Grayson's body, his arms barely strong enough to push him along as he pulled himself around his side of the truck and finally climbed in. He shook off the water streaming down his face and thrust a hand through his long hair.

His body was weak but aroused, despite the cold and the danger… It couldn't be, could it?

The man wore a black T-shirt and Grayson gasped as his eyes spied a strange mark descending beneath the cotton.

No way.

He pushed the sleeve up, groaning aloud when he saw the mark he’d been looking for his whole life. The black gnarled tree that he carried on his own arm, imprinted on a human male!

“Oh, fuck!” Grayson pinched the bridge of his nose and let his eyes slide shut.

It was almost unheard of for an Alpha to have a human mate at all. Let alone a male.

What sort of trick is this?

The man beside him gasped, and his breathing began to change, a raspiness that hadn’t been there before now appearing. He had two choices, take him to the hospital in town, or take him home. They had a great doctor and several nurses.

Grayson twisted around and groped beneath the seat for the Red Cross first aid kit. He pulled out the metal box, relief winging through his terrified heart. He grabbed proper bandages for the stranger and removed the strips of shirt that he'd wrapped the man's head in to stop the bleeding. Hopefully there wouldn’t be an infection. He opened the bandages and dressed the wound properly his heart still racing in his chest so loudly he could hear it above the rain pelting down on the truck.

As he patted and stuck, wrapped and held the wound tight, his whole body ached with the need to gather this stranger up and keep him close.

“Focus,” he muttered to himself, taping the clean white bandage into place. That would hold for now.

The man moaned and rolled his head again, making Grayson’s heart leap and do a virtual dance.

“Damn…” He leaned away, his breath coming in painful gasps. Of all the people, in all the worlds. He swiped a hand over his mouth and let his hand clench into a fist as it lay against the dashboard. What in the hell do I do?

He blew out a breath and gripped tight to the steering wheel. He had to get his mate back to safety. Now.

My mate… Oh fuck!

The truth of the thought made him cling tighter to the steering wheel while the man beside him grew whiter by the minute.

Grayson reached over, his balls throbbing with lust at the scent curling up into his nostrils. Even half dead, his mate aroused him like no other. Damn… He lay the passenger seat as far back as it would go and frowned at the blood now soaking the bandage.

As he started the truck, a single dribble of red liquid slid down the stranger’s cheek.

“Oh, to hell with it…”

There was no choice. He had to take the man back home. The very idea of letting him go and perhaps never seeing him again made pain course through him like a sharp kick to the guts.

He blew out a breath and turned the engine back on, glancing over to his mate. “No. Not letting you go.”

He shook his head and pressed his foot on the pedal. He'd never even been attracted to another male before, let alone had sex with one. Why would fate choose a man as his mate?

The man beside him moaned a little, and his head dropped forward.

Grayson reached across and gently pressed his head back, his heart leaping at the sight of his mate’s tousled hair and smooth skin. Even pale, bleeding, and unconscious he was fucking beautiful.

“Bloody hell.” He turned off the main road and pushed the truck harder up the hill into the mountains.

He wiped his palm across his forehead, sticky with sweat. His heart was thumping with purpose, his brain whirling with the implications of what he'd done, and what he was about to do.

Greensborough was the only place for them both, but the question was…what the hell was he going to do with his little human when he woke up?

****

Someone was pounding on his head with a sledgehammer. Heavy, insistent, and down-right unbearable.

When the fuck did I have time to go out and get drunk?

The throbbing continued and seemed to get worse as Reagan forced his eyes open and a bright light hit his eyeballs.

“What the…” He blinked rapidly, bringing an arm up to press his palm to his forehead. “Ow…” Pain sliced through his ribs, and he hissed as his breathing rate increased and his heart beat a steady, heavy rhythm in his chest.

Reagan tried to get up, but the nausea that accompanied the wave of pain proved too much to bear.

“Please don't get up, we haven't given you anything for the pain yet as we weren't sure of your medical history or allergies.”

Reagan looked towards the mature female voice and narrowed his eyes, his brain frowning over the lack of sense this was making. His vision was clearing now, and everything around him looked legitimate. The doctor in a white coat, a sterile hospital room. He'd obviously had an accident of some sort. Why didn't they have access to his medical records in the hospital?

“Where am I?”

The brunette woman smiled at him with practiced warmth. “Can you tell me if you are allergic to any medications? I will give you something for the pain, and you can sleep.”

“What happened to me?”

The woman pulled his blanket up, and the lights dimmed a little. His eyes were so heavy it felt like they were weighed down by lead weights. “You were in a car accident and sustained a few broken ribs and a moderate concussion from what I can determine. Do you have any pain in your body other than your head and ribs?”

Reagan let his eyes close and groaned as another wave of nausea hit.

“Can I give you some Endone? Can your body handle codeine or morphine derivatives?”

Reagan nodded, then wished he hadn’t as his headache returned with a vengeance. “Endone's fine; I'm not allergic to anything…”

He’d sort all this out when he woke up again. He was so tired.

There was rustling and some murmured words, but he fell quickly into a dream filled sleep.

Continue on and begin the journey of the Borough Boys

Grayson’s Mate:

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Author BIO:

Tamsin Baker loves everything erotic. Her books can be long, short and everything in between, but they’ll all be fast-paced with snappy dialogue and lots of sex. No Tamsin Baker book is the same, except there won’t be a lot of angst in, as she wants her books to be everything that a fictional world can be—full of happy ever afters, dirty words and sweet love. ‘Love is love,’ and she tries to show that in a range of sub genres, from m/m contemporary to paranormal ménage. She has a need to shock people and bring up embarrassing topics at the most inappropriate times…

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