Mine Forever:Brac Pack Next Gen 5

By: Lynn Hagen
Brac Pack Next Gen 5




Chapter One




The Posh Edge.

What a joke. There was nothing posh about the clothing boutique in Dalton Falls. It looked more like a thrift store someone had tried to dress up as chic but failed miserably.

“Oh hell.” Omar glanced around the shop, wondering how anyone could call this place a boutique. There wasn’t a stitch of designer clothing anywhere to be found, and what they did carry… He blanched as he stuck his tongue out. The floral shirt in his hand needed to be burned.

“What’s wrong with it?” Dennis asked as he eyed the shirt.

Omar had just met the swan shifter that morning and instantly liked the guy. Dennis was short, blond, and stunning. He was funny as well. Omar liked anyone with a great sense of humor. The guy kept going on and on about predators trying to eat him and how he never left home without his Taser.

He was still getting used to Paden though. He’d never meet a fairy before. Although Paden had his wings tucked in, Omar saw them.

As far back as he could remember, Omar had been gifted with the ability to see paranormal for what they truly were. That talent had come in handy over the years. As a matter of fact, it had saved his ass on more than one occasion.

“Are you serious?” Omar asked as he hung the shirt back on the rack. He might like the swan, but the guy had horrible taste in clothing.

“Unless you’re a fifty-year-old male who’s going on vacation in the tropics, you shouldn’t be caught dead with it on.” Omar searched through the racks, trying desperately to find a decent piece of clothing.

“I kinda like it.” Dennis pulled the shirt off the rack and held it up. “It’s nifty.”

Who the hell said nifty?

“I agree with Omar,” Taylor said, wrinkling his nose. “It’s downright ugly.”

“In that case, I’m buying it.” Dennis had a glowing smirk on his face as he took the shirt to the counter. Omar had an urge to tackle the swan and rip the offensive material from the man’s hands.

Paden shook his head. The fairy leaned his arm on the rack and sighed. “If you tell Dennis he shouldn’t do something, he’ll do it for spite.”

“That shirt is gorgeous! You should go ahead and buy it,” Omar shouted, but Dennis ignored him. Oh well. Omar knew he couldn’t dress the world, though he wished he could.

“So what did Kahl say when he found out you’d driven here by yourself?” Taylor asked as he sifted through the clothes on the rack in front of him.

“He spanked me.” Omar grinned. “Makes me want to drive back to Brac Village and do it all over again.”

Taylor rolled his eyes. “Too much info, Omar.”

“You know you want to hear about my sex life,” Omar teased. The problem was he didn’t have a sex life. Kahl hadn’t actually spanked him. He’d lectured Omar for over an hour about safety and then treated him to dinner. He would have taken the spanking over the lecture. He would have taken any kind of punishment that required nudity instead of listening to all the horrors that could’ve befallen him.

They’d both agreed they’d wait until the time was right to have sex and consummate their mating. Omar was ready every second of every day. He was so horny that a lamppost looked good enough to hump. Kahl, on the other hand, stuck to his guns. Every time it became heated between them, the shifter cooled things down.

Omar was ready to tie his mate to the bed and have his way with him. He understood Kahl’s apprehensions, he truly did. When Omar was seventeen, some jocks at school had dragged him into the locker room and tried to rape him. It had taken a long time for Omar to get over what had nearly happened to him.

But he was over it. Had been over it years ago. He was ready to move on, but Kahl was stuck on neutral and wouldn’t drive their relationship forward. He had a feeling there was something more to Kahl’s prudishness, but whenever Omar tried to approach the subject, the shifter clammed up tight.

“You should work at The Running Bunny,” Paden said off-handedly as he watched Taylor sift through the racks. “You’d fit right in.”

Handing out coffee all day was not Omar’s idea of fun. “Or I could come work at your club,” he said. That would flip Kahl’s hair back. Maybe seeing all those half-naked men would inspire something inside the shifter. Overridden with lust, Kahl could possibly take Omar down, sufficiently ending Omar’s sexual frustration. The idea had merit.

“I don’t think so,” Paden said as he picked up a pair of plaid shorts, grimaced, and then put them back on the rack. “I’ve met your mate. I’d rather wear Hawaiian shirts for the rest of my life than have him come after me.”

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