Chapter Five
Chuey
Chuey kept a careful eye on the mound of dirt that hid a roasting pig. He'd spent all the previous day digging the hole, and then because everyone else continued to be busy, he also prepared the pig and the ground. He'd learned how to roast things in the ground a few years ago. He didn't do it often because of the danger and risk involved with possibly being stumbled upon and losing so much food, but he had done it on occasion.
This time though, he'd been able to use spices and other fixings. His stomach growled in anticipation for the coming feast.
The rest of the bear pack had been busy either with their regular daily duties or with preparing the space for a party. Even though he was tucked away in a corner just behind one of the cabins, Chuey heard Ryder when he and his men showed up. They weren't loud, but they brought an energy that changed the focused attitude of the bear pack into one that was more lighthearted and joyful.
Chuey stayed where he was, occasionally stretching his neck to see around the cabin and into the middle of the camp where everyone was beginning to gather. Ryder sat on top of one picnic table, his men dispersed around him as they spoke with Julian, Hugh and some of the other bear shifters.
His eyes hardly left Ryder as he took in the ease with which he sat and spoke. His feet rested on the bench of the table with an elbow propped on one knee, his body language exuding only confidence and ease. Even while his stomach tightened, along with his balls, Chuey told himself that he must have been mistaken in even assuming that there had been a tiny connection between them. He hadn't known what Garth had told him, about Ryder's type of guy and the frequency with which he slept around.
Ryder's laugh reached his ears, and Chuey immediately turned his head, stretching once again around the cabin to see who it was that had made Ryder laugh like that. He was reminded of the day before, with Garth at the table. If this was how seeing Chuey laughing made Ryder feel the day before, then Chuey was sorry he'd ever done it. It was as if he was being invaded by some jealous beast who simultaneously told Chuey that he wasn't good enough for a man like Ryder while also reminding him that if Ryder was really his mate, he would have claimed him already.
Chuey angrily grabbed a shovel and began clearing the dirt off the top of the mound. The pig inside was likely done and any longer would dry out the meat. As he continued to clear the dirt, the delicious aroma of pork and other spices wafted up from the ground. He reached down to knock aside a rock that had somehow gotten mixed in with the clean dirt and hissed when his hand contacted the scalding-hot stone.
"Did you hurt yourself?" Logan asked, rushing forward. He reached for Chuey's hand and spotted the blister that was already forming on the tip of his pointer finger. "This needs a cream," Logan decided, tugging Chuey away from the mound of dirt and toward the center of the camp. Chuey realized that any cream that his padre wanted was located in the infirmary, which was on the other side of camp. That meant he would have to be marched, probably through the middle, past Ryder where he would see yet again that Chuey was just a young kid being cared for by his padre. But he wasn't young. And he wasn't a kid. He was an adult shifter.
Chuey pulled his hand back and slipped his finger into his mouth. "It's fine," he replied.
Logan sighed heavily. "Chuey, listen to me. It could get infected. I don't think you understand the germs involved here—"
"I understand germs. But if I want germs in my hand then that is my choice."
Logan snapped his mouth shut with an audible click of his teeth.
"Just like it is my choice where I live. I want to move in with Garth," Chuey said, feeling the lightness of finally saying what he wanted along with the heaviness of possibly disappointing his padre. "I thank you for saving me, Padre. But I understand enough of this world now. I don't need an everyday padre. Maybe just an every other day padre." This was one of those times where Chuey didn't even know if he was making sense.
"We can't keep fighting like this, Chuey. But why does it have to be Garth? The guy's a jerk. I'm afraid of the things he'll teach you, okay? You are just so good and kind, and a guy like Garth would just eat you up and spit you out, a more bitter version than you went in." Logan had one hand in his pocket with Duncan bouncing on the opposite hip. Duncan reached for his father's hair, grabbing a strand and yanking it.
Chuey appreciated his padre's honesty, but he didn't agree with his assessment of Chuey's best friend. Garth put up a front that Chuey recognized from his time in the hills of Mexico where he had to act tough to stay alive. That hadn't been the real him, just like this wasn't the real Garth. "You're wrong about him," Chuey said.
Logan just shook his head. "He's a valid and appreciated pack member." His words sounded rehearsed, practiced.
Chuey saw so much of himself in Garth that he couldn't help but wonder when the pack would turn on him too, start treating him the same way. When would his quirky behavior go from acceptable to too much to handle?
"If you don't accept Garth, you don't accept me," Chuey said slowly. He set the shovel down and strode between the cabins towards the center, ignoring his padre's calls for him to return.
He didn't look up to see who could see him coming. He spotted Garth sitting on the edge of the party, never quite invited into the conversation. Chuey sat down next to him, shaking his head when Garth gave him a questioning look. "Padre said we can move in together," he said. "No. I told Padre I am moving in with you," he edited.
There was a loud clattering noise from the center tables. Chuey saw that Ryder had dropped his beer on the bench, splattering those around him. Ryder's head was up, staring in Chuey's direction with an odd intensity. Their gazes locked, and it felt like a soft hand caressing Chuey's face. He blinked, forcing his eyes away. Ryder didn't want him because he was too young, Logan didn't want him to change at all. Chuey needed to ignore them both and do what he needed to do.
"Sure," Garth replied with a shrug. "Move in whenever. There is only one bed right now, but you can sleep on the couch. Or we can share."
As the sun set and more of his packmates finished their day's work and joined the party, Chuey felt more and more removed from the festivities. He didn't feel comfortable enough to join the large crowd. Maybe if he'd been able to hide beneath some of the tables he wouldn't feel so exposed, but Garth told him it was weird when he did that. Chuey decided to pack up his things instead. So, even when the heavenly scent of pork was at its strongest as they lifted the perfectly cooked beast from the ground, Chuey turned from the party to head to the cabin he'd shared with his padre.
This party wasn't for him, and he'd done all he could do to help.
As he suspected, the party went on perfectly fine without him as he retreated into the cabin and packed up the few items he'd managed to amass since arriving. He shoved his blanket into a black garbage bag before turning for the front door. Chuey stopped suddenly as he noticed a dark figure standing in the doorway. He didn't have to see the man's face to know who it was.
"Going somewhere?" Ryder asked lazily. He gripped the top of the open doorway with both hands, looking as though he'd been standing and watching Chuey pack for a while. Cloaked in shadow, his leather, dark hair, and full beard made him look like a demon. Or an actual Chupacabra.
Chuey grunted. He was angry with Ryder but without really knowing why. The rejection from weeks before shouldn't have still stung as brightly as it did. Seeing Ryder now simply made Chuey face the fact that Ryder had been living a fine, normal life in the three weeks since they'd seen each other. He didn't pine or worry or wonder. And, for a reason yet unknown to Chuey, that pissed him off.
"Is that a yes? I don't speak sullen brat," Ryder snapped back.
The hair on the back of his neck stood straight, like it used to do before bad storms back in Mexico. "Why do you care?" he asked, reaching for his pillow and shoving it in the same bag as his blanket. There, that was everything he owned, all crammed in a single black trash bag.
"I overheard something," Ryder said, as if they'd been having a normal conversation the entire time. "I heard that you're moving in with someone."
"That's right," Chuey replied. He was all packed up. All he had to do was walk out the door and into his new cabin, except Ryder didn't budge. Not when Chuey stared at him pointedly, and not even when he attempted to squeeze by anyway.
"You're moving in with Garth," Ryder stated flatly.
"He's my friend," Chuey replied, standing at his fullest height. He almost reached Ryder's shoulders, but pointed up at his nose all the same. "I don't care if you don't like him."
"Is that all he is?" Ryder asked, staring at the bag Chuey held instead of his face. Ryder pushed his arm against the side of the doorway when Chuey tried again to pass by. "Is that all he is?" Ryder asked more slowly.
Chuey looked up at his face. He was close enough now to see the emotion there, and his beast warned him to tread carefully. Ryder didn't look like he was playing around or even like he was simply angry. His dark eyes were clear and focused on him while his mouth was set into a firm line. He vibrated with barely restrained power. A thrill ran up Chuey's spine as he longed to lean forward and press against that firm, leather-clad body. Would Ryder push him away again?
Chuey wouldn't give him the chance. He had his dignity.
"What if he was more than that? What if he was my lover?" Chuey asked.
"Is he?" Ryder spat out. "I saw you two together yesterday, laughing, playing around. You were shirtless," he said it like an accusation.
"If I was?" Chuey replied.
"God dammit, boy, stop playing around with me. Tell me right now if you two have fucked."
An unfamiliar feeling rose up inside of Chuey. He didn't necessarily like how it felt, or what it made him want to do. The feeling urged him to make Ryder angrier, to not answer any of his questions and to purposefully mislead him. Chuey swallowed that feeling down, not enjoying the slide of it down his throat. "I told you no, Ryder," he said finally, reserved and resigned to honesty. "He's my friend."
Ryder relaxed, but only a fraction. "Why are you moving?" he asked, rubbing the top of Chuey's plastic bag together idly between his fingers.
Chuey pulled back so that Ryder couldn't reach any part of him. Perhaps he didn't have it in him to torture the man, but he wasn't answering his every question. Ryder wasn't even in his pack, he'd made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with Chuey past his role as ally. "I need a change. Life with Padre is safe and I'm glad for him, but I need space. Garth is unmated, around my age."
"Two young bachelors living the life, eh?" Ryder said sourly.
"Yes!" Chuey said, recognizing the word bachelor from an earlier conversation. "We will be like two bachelors. Out on the town, getting into trouble—"
"What kind of trouble?" Ryder asked, and he was all narrowed eyes and scowling face again.
Chuey sighed. "Any kind. All kinds. I can go out when I want. Meet who I want. No asking for permission."
"That's the life you're looking for, then?"
No, it wasn't. The life Chuey wanted was impossible though. He could thrive with a confident, wise man to watch over his every need. All of what he had said so far to Ryder about his future life sounded, frankly, exhausting to Chuey. He would trade it all in for a second of being kept and cared for. He thought about staying at Ryder's home, being there for Ryder after a long day at the bar or on his bike. He could have his favorite beer ready and kneel at his feet, rubbing his hard-worked muscles.
Blood flowed down to his dick by the buckets as he grew hard. He shifted the garbage bag to hide his arousal but there was nothing he could do about the smell of it.
Chuey watched with nervous excitement as the scent of his arousal reached Ryder. His pupils narrowed before blowing out, making his dark eyes darker. "Fuck, boy," Ryder said after he inhaled. Ryder stumbled inside the cabin, shutting the door behind himself. He reached for the bag, the only thing that separated their bodies, and yanked it from Chuey's hands, letting it drop to the floor.
Chuey looked down at it as Ryder stepped closer. Chuey stared at his boots, rough and worn, but in a way that made him think they would be soft to the touch.
"Is that for him?" Ryder asked, jerking his head toward Chuey's erection.
So much for having dignity. His body betrayed him. "You know it isn't," Chuey replied softly.
Chuey's back knocked against a chair as Ryder lunged forward, wrapping a wide hand around Chuey's hip and one around the back of his neck. He felt pinned and manhandled and it only made him harder. Ryder's lips were against his in a rough kiss. The few times Chuey had practiced on his hand it had been soft, lazy, and unappealing. This kiss was worlds away. Ryder held him tight, as if afraid he would try to pull away.
Chuey had zero plans to pull away. The opposite. He wished he could get closer. He thrust his hips forward, and Ryder growled. There was a loud clanging, and then Chuey's back was to the cold wall, the chair he'd been leaning against lay on the ground, toppled on its side.
"Fuck, are you okay?" Ryder asked, ripping his mouth away long enough to say the words and then return to the kiss.
Chuey figured his whimper was enough of a reply. He stretched his body, making himself as long as possible so that he could more easily reach Ryder's mouth. With a snarl, Ryder lifted Chuey off the ground, groping his ass as he brought Chuey's face closer. He propped him against the wall, one hand holding him and massaging his butt while the other gathered his wrists together and stretched them over his head.
Groped, restrained and manhandled, Chuey was in heaven.
Until someone turned on the overhead light. "What the fuck are you doing?" Logan snarled.
Chuey whimpered. Ryder set him down, snarling at the intruder as he tucked Chuey safely behind his body.
"Get away from him!" Logan hollered as he approached, reaching forward like he wanted to pull Chuey free.
Chuey's mouth was still pink and raw from Ryder's kisses. The rub of his facial hair likely left his face red. His shirt was torn at the collar—he didn't have any idea when that had happened—and his pants were also skewed, down low enough so that his lower stomach was bare.
"Get the fuck away from my son!" Logan screamed, pummeling Ryder without expertise. Some of his punches were wilder than the others, and after one glanced off Ryder's shoulder and nearly hit Chuey in the face, Ryder snarled and, with a firm hand against Logan's chest, he pushed the man back. It wasn't a shove or an act of aggression. Logan didn't stumble or fall, but he was forced back a few steps. That was when his mates entered.
They saw Chuey, disheveled and obviously manhandled, then they saw their mate being not only touched, but touched without consent. Hugh reached for his mate, bringing him back and away from the violence as Julian swung at Ryder. This hit did land and the force of it vibrated out of Ryder's body, giving Chuey a taste of the raw furious power that had been behind the hit.
A punch like that would have landed Chuey flat on the ground. Ryder, however, grunted. "This isn't what it looks like," he said.
"It looks like you are forcing yourself on my son!" Logan spat.
At this, Chuey stood straight. He'd been cowering, half by Ryder's insistence, half by his own fear. By now, the doorway was full of bear shifters and hybrids staring in through the door and window.
"Cover yourself, boy," Ryder ordered, and Chuey jumped to pull his pants up and smooth his shirt straight.
"Don't tell him what to do," Logan snapped.
"Padre, no, I—"
"It's okay, Chuey. I'm not mad at you. Come over here and we will check you out at the infirmary. That way when I call the cops on this asshole, we'll be able to tell them exactly what he did."
Chuey's face burned with embarrassment as the crowd around the door and windows began to murmur. The hybrids in the group grumbled, their eyes on Ryder, waiting for a sign of what they should do. Chuey cleared his throat. "I don't want to go with you, Padre. Ryder wasn't making me do anything I didn't want to."
"Chuey, you are confused."
"No!" Chuey replied, a bit of growl behind the one word. "You keep cutting me off, you don't let me talk!" He pushed a hand through his hair, yanking on the black strands furiously. "Just let me say what I want to say! I can talk!"
Logan tried to push past his mates, but they wouldn't let him. "I know you can talk, but I know it is hard for you. That's why I cut you off. But this... this man," Logan spat as if wishing he were saying a different word. "He's using your ignorance and your innocence. He is preying on you."
"That's enough," Ryder said, his word and tone carrying a hefty amount of finality. "You've got the wrong end of the situation. He's already confirmed it. I can see the party is over, I'll take my hybrids and we'll leave."
"I'm coming with you," Chuey replied, kicking up off the wall. When he'd said it, he hadn't thought about what he would do if Ryder told him no, that he wasn't welcome to come with them. He could say no, though. That would likely solve a lot of his problems.
The room was silent, and Chuey noticed one of the hybrids shake his head at Ryder as if urging him to say no.
Ryder looked back at Chuey and Chuey looked up at him, his eyes wide. He tried not to look pleading; he didn't want Ryder's charity. But if he refused him now, Chuey wouldn't be able to show his face.
Ryder scowled. He rubbed his chin. He opened his mouth, and Chuey felt his world slow to a stop. "You can come with me, if you want to go," he said, putting emphasis on the last part of what he said. He cleared his throat. "We're leaving. This night was unfortunate. Do not accuse me again, or our alliance will not be so mutually beneficial."
He reached his hand out to Chuey, palm up, and he took it. As they strode out of the cabin Chuey had shared with his padre, he grabbed his garbage bag of belongings. His heart hurt when he looked at Padre's obstinate expression. He was so mad and couldn't possibly see that this was all Chuey's choosing.
They got to the door when Chuey yelped. Logan had grabbed onto his arm to keep him there, and the angle caused Chuey's elbow to twist unpleasantly. In a flash, Ryder was there forcibly removing Logan's hand. The pain eased up immediately, but the growls from Julian and Hugh were deafening.
Ryder pushed Chuey in front of him, into the direction of one of his hybrids. "Take him, Thorne. Wait for me at the bar," Ryder ordered. Both Chuey and Thorne gave him double looks.
"Don't fight with me, either of you. Go," he ordered, turning back to the snarling mass that was Logan's mates. Angus, Roscoe, and Stannis had joined them, and none of them looked happy.
Thorne looked at Ryder turning from him and going back into the cabin with a deep frown. He didn't like leaving Ryder any more than Chuey did. "Come on," he snapped quietly. "If I don't do what he says, he'll know. Somehow, that fucker always knows."
***
Chuey didn't know why he expected the bar to be empty. It was a weekend night after all. The place was full of customers when Thorne and the rest of the hybrids parked their bikes outside. When they walked in as a group, the customers all watched the stream of angry bikers pour in through the front door. Most of them dispersed to the bar or the dance floor. Chuey lingered, unaware of what was expected of him. Had he just run away?
Did what he just did mean he was leaving his pack? Chuey's chest tightened. He didn't want to do that, this pack was the first group of people who accepted him, even when his own family would not. Ryder had kissed him, but Chuey wasn't so naive to believe a kiss meant anything. Even one as hot as the one they'd experienced. Until that moment, Chuey didn't even know a kiss could feel like that. The way Ryder was pressed tight against him, with his hands bound together and the rest of his body defenseless against Ryder's desire and need. Chuey let out a harsh exhale that flung the hair off his forehead.
"I'm going for a smoke. Are you just going to sit there?" Thorne asked. His lips were puckered slightly, and he still had a frown line between his eyebrows.
"You don't like me here."
"I think you're a distraction our president doesn't need," Thorne replied. He didn't seem the type to mince his words.
And yet, Chuey took some comfort from his harshness. Thorne thought Chuey was a distraction to his leader. That meant he thought Chuey had the power to affect Ryder, however slightly.
"Why are you smiling?" Thorne asked despite himself.
Chuey just nodded. "Can I go with you?" he asked. Without Garth and Stannis there, Chuey felt too exposed on his own in a place as loud and public as the bar.
Thorne just shrugged. If there was one type of language Chuey had always been proficient at reading, it was body language. In the wild, in meant the difference between knowing if your prey was going to swerve left or swerve right, which often made the difference between a full or empty belly.
He hopped off the stool and skipped behind Thorne. They made it to the door before someone called out, "That yours?" Thorne just flipped the man off, which made the man laugh.
So, there were types of body language Chuey understood and types he was still clueless at understanding.
Outside, the air was crisp, and despite the loud bass bump that could be heard from inside, it was quiet. The road that ran alongside the bar was the main road in Pineville, but at this time of night, citizens were either going to the bar or going home.
Chuey sank down to the ground, sitting in the gravel next to a decorative bush. The rocks poked into his skin, but in times of turmoil and confusion, his instinct was to go low, and those habits were hard to break.
"What are you doing down there, kid?" Thorne asked as he pulled out a cigarette. Lighting the end, he took a long puff that stunk when it wafted down to Chuey.
"Waiting."
"Yeah, that's not what I meant—you know what, never mind."
The two of them fell into a silence, separated only by a chorus of frogs and the occasional truck driving by.
"Should we go check on him?" Chuey asked when Thorne was nearly done with his cigarette. He wondered what Ryder had done when he stayed. Had he fought Julian and Hugh? Chuey didn't like that thought. They were big shifters that Chuey would have stayed far away from had they also not had Logan with them.
"Absolutely not. Going back will be disobeying his orders and will be proof that we think he can't deal with that fucking mess on his own. You wanted to come; you stay here."
Chuey repositioned himself so that the sharpest rock wasn't jamming into his butt cheek. "You don't like me," he said.
Thorne leaned back against the wall, cloaking his face in darkness. Except, Chuey could see through the dark straight to the frown. "I don't have an opinion about you, kid."
"Yes, you do," Chuey replied. He could taste Thorne's lie on the tip of his tongue. "You can't look at me without pinching your face. You either don't like me or you have to poop."
Thorne barked, and Chuey realized it was his version of a laugh. "I can see why Ryder likes you, even if you are a little too young."
Chuey straightened and lifted his chin. "I'm nineteen."
"Uh huh, like I said. Don't get too hurt, it's better this way, kid."
Chuey picked up a stick and twirled it between his fingers. "What type of person do you like, then? Very old?" He adopted a shaky voice and pretended to have a hunchback.
Thorne barked again. "No, not very old, you smart ass. My type isn't a type. It's a person, but that's... fuck, why am I even talking to you about this? Those round fucking brown eyes and the sweet mouth has got me spewing all kinds of bullshit. I'm going in." He turned around, stomping back to the front door. When he noticed Chuey wasn't behind him he paused with his hand on the handle.
"I stay out here. Feels better," Chuey said with his face to the sky. The stars were only partially covered by clouds.
Thorne stared at him for a long moment. "Fine. Wait for your lover out here. At least do me a favor—when he gets back, give him hell. He's done enough damage to the club tonight; he deserves it." Thorne tossed him one last curious look before opening the door and disappearing into the noisy bar.
Chuey scooched so that he was partially blocked by the bush. He wasn't scared. This was the world Chuey was used to: dark, cold, outdoors and alone. He thought he was done with that life; maybe he had only been taking a break.
Whatever happened, he hoped it wasn't as bad as Thorne made it sound.