Survival Instinct: Brian Book One (Van Zant Siblings 1) Page 4

  “Your soul demanded a new name.”

  He leaned close, closer than any man since—god, he wouldn’t think about that—so close his warm breath fell against Brian’s cheek. His lips were so near, Brian fought the urge to close his eyes and tilt his head in invitation even though his scent, warm and manly, invited just that. He forced himself to listen.

  “When you crossed the mountain onto sacred land, the Great Spirit spoke to your soul, giving you permission to begin again as a new being. A part of you, silent until now, spoke, renaming you—Just Brian. It happens here sometimes. Many people give themselves new names during times of life-changing events. It is a Native American custom. For now, you need to cling to your new name and let it heal the parts of you that are damaged.”

  Brian blinked. “I’ve definitely watched that movie too many damn times. I’m delirious right now, right?”

  “Sorry. Sometimes I lapse from Tobias, park ranger, into Hawk”—he purposely lowered his voice—“medicine man.”

  “Medicine man?” Brian broke into a smile and chuckled. “Now you’re messing with me and I deserve it.”

  “You blush so adorably when you get caught checking me out.” Hawk shrugged and picked up his own plate of hotcakes. “If race play is your kink, you shouldn’t be shamed for it. I can forgive a single fault.”

  “A single fault?” Brian repeated. “I really need to get out of town while you still see me in such a positive light.”

  Hawk drizzled maple syrup over the pancakes and dived in. Between bites he explained further. “You white men would say I’m just a Medicine-man-in-training.”

  Brian’s mouth dropped open. “White man, is it?”

  “So what if you think I’m hot because I was born with a deep tan, I’m totally infatuated with your luscious as cream skin and freckles.” Hawk winked and smiled. “In all seriousness though, my grandfather is the tribe’s current leader, acting as chief and medicine man, and it is a role I will assume someday. I’ve been groomed for the task since the day I was born, but I am in no hurry. I wish my grandfather a very long and healthy life.”

  “Wow. I don’t know what to say to that. Sounds like a huge responsibility.” Brian took a bite of pancakes. “Oh my God. These are amazing.”

  “So you’ve know you were gay a long time, huh?”

  Brian choked, not believing Hawk’d asked. He hid behind his cup of coffee, swallowing several gulps before saying, “I came out when I was sixteen. You?”

  Hawk looked down and shook his head. “My grandfather has always known, since I was a young child and I’ve confided in a few close friends, but I’ve never really came out as a gay man. The townsfolk may have their suspicions, but at my age… it’s now as awkward for me to acknowledge my sexual orientation as it was for you to admit you might have ethnicity preference in a society hung up on political correctness.”

  “Only when I get caught ogling.” Brian smiled and his face muscles contracted almost painfully. How long has it been since I’ve smiled?

  “It would be equally difficult for me to state my preference for pale, rugged outdoorsmen with a few days beard growth.”

  Brian rubbed his stubble covered cheeks. “I need a shave. If I keep going like this, I’ll have a full beard by the end of the week.”

  Hawk winked. “That would be okay too.”

  Brian chuckled. “Can I tell you something in all seriousness?”

  “Most certainly.”

  “I was a young teen the first time I ever saw the movie and falling in love with the men who starred in The Last of the Mohicans led to me to study cultural anthropology and archaeology.”

  “Please tell me not Daniel Day Lewis?” Hawk challenged. “You know he’s an Englishman, right? Like literally born in London.”

  Brian frowned at the absurdity. “No lie, Hollywood casting agents are a fucked up bunch, but there were a few actual Native Americans to lust after.”

  “Riiight. So, archaeology, you’re like Indiana Jones, huh?”

  Brian chuckled, realizing the man was teasing him, following his own movie comparison. “I get it. Archeologist. Stereotype. Touché. Not quite Indiana Jones. No one has ever tried to kill me over treasure. I do have a really great field jacket though.”

  “Ah. For me it was the brown fedora. Do you have one of those?”

  Brian laughed out loud. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  He watched Hawk blush and wondered what he was thinking. He was glad the man couldn’t read his mind, though, because he couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to rip off that flannel shirt.

  They both grew quiet, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Quite the contrary. Lost in their own thoughts, they ate, unable to take their eyes off each other. Hawk lifted his mug and realized it was empty. He excused himself to go retrieve the coffeepot, explaining, “I should have just brought it with me. I’ll be right back.”

  ♥

  On the way to the kitchen Hawk followed Shadow when his big wolf slipped out the doggie door to the back yard. Snow was still falling and showing no signs of letting up. While Shadow took care of business in the forest beyond the narrow section of grass and creek bed, Hawk scanned the dark night sky and tried to stop thinking about the man upstairs. He wasn’t sure when he stopped being his patient and became the man, but now that he’d made the crossover it was near impossible to stop thing about his distracting green eyes and deep pink cupid lips.

  God, no more men! Haven’t I learned my lesson?

  Men aren’t interested in having relationships. He was much safer attending the nearby college town that was large enough to support Twisted Pleasures, a BDSM club, and finding someone to take his sexual frustrations out on. It wasn’t like he was lacking interested partners. Once the members had seen his skills with a whip, especially once he’d demoed his Florentine single tail skills, he’d become pretty popular with the subs.

  Maybe once this weather let up he’d make a trip into town—

  No, he shook his head. Next up on his agenda had to be investigating the mountain to discover just what his grandfather had seen.

  Before him lay the granite peaks of the Bitterroot Mountains, behind him the ridges of the Sapphires. The storm was directly overhead, and visibility on the new-moon night was zero, but he didn’t have to see the crags and spires of the mountains to know they rose around him like sentries. He knew that even if he didn’t have a patient to care for, the storm would have prevented his investigation. It was very easy to throw Just Brian under the bus and make him the scapegoat for his frustration—which was clearly unfair and unreasonable of him. Hawk was bright enough to recognize his subconscious efforts to protect his heart, but he didn’t need to. His will-power and professionalism would keep him from getting in over his head with the man.

  Eventually, the weather would let up and he could turn his attention to the weird lights his grandfather had seen on the mountain earlier. The town had already labeled his grandfather as senile, so it was no surprise to anyone when he started ranting about lights in the sky over the mountain. Pretty soon UFO jokes were standard diner fare.

  Hawk sighed, and his breath was visible in the cold night air. He knew his grandfather wasn’t crazy. He kicked himself for procrastinating so long on something that was obviously important to the old guy and acknowledged he was going to have to face the reason he was purposely avoiding that particular ridgeline.

  Erik Dahlström.

  Last summer’s big mistake, a foreign tourist and rugged outdoorsman with white-blond hair and ice blue eyes. His mind drifted, remembering Erik asking, “What’s this trail?”

  “Lolo,” he’d answered.

  “I like the way that word rolls off your tongue. Lolo.”

  Hawk had liked the lyrical sound of every word that had fallen from the Swede’s lips. It had been obvious the man was flirting with him, and Hawk had been having a hard time denying he was turned on by everything about the Northman. Erik had hired him as a summ
er guide to show him around the surrounding mountains. A foreign filmmaker, he’d been doing research for a Lewis and Clark documentary.

  “Say it again,” Erik had teased.

  “Lolo.”

  He hadn’t expected the man to duck nearer, but he couldn’t say the kiss was a complete surprise either. The kiss was short, but promised more if Hawk was interested, and he definitely had been. Few on the mountain knew he was gay, so most of his hook-ups had been fairly quick and dirty, far enough away from his real life so as to not bring unwanted attention. If he needed serious stress release he’d head to Twisted Pleasures. His one attempt at a traditional marriage a dozen years ago had been disastrous, with the divorce only a few months later a salvation.

  Meeting Erik, a man so far from his own home, had seemed serendipitous.

  They’d walked for hours under a blazing sun, a constant ascent. Hawk had pointed out archeological and historical points of interest. Erik had taken notes and drawn sketches. Upon reaching the high, flat clearing, Erik had pulled off his shirt, displaying his pale, hairless chest. The metal piercings in his nipples had glinted in the sun as he’d spread his shirt on the ground before sitting and then lying back. He’d patted the ground next to him. “Rest awhile, Mr. Park Ranger.”

  “Only if you start calling me by my name,” he’d answered.

  The Swede had smiled at him, and Hawk had read challenge in his expression. In answer, he sat. Ankles crossed, he wrapped his arms around his knees. He’d been wound tight, feeling nervous. He’d had so many excuses why what he was thinking was such a really bad idea, his main objection being that while he was in uniform, he was also on the clock, and he shouldn’t even be thinking about sex, let alone giving his client a mental blowjob. There was no harm in sitting, right?

  “See? Much better.”

  Hawk had looked at him, allowing their gazes to collide, and seeing his relaxed indifference, allowed himself to lighten up. He’d watched the bright summer sky, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart by watching an eagle floating on a thermal updraft.

  “Lose the hat,” Erik had commanded.

  Hawk had looked over at him and the vision of the man lying in the grass, shirt off, pants unbuttoned, had made his mouth go dry. His brain couldn’t conjure a single excuse, so he’d taken off his park ranger hat and set it on the ground next to him.

  “That’s better,” Erik had said just before he pulled Hawk down on top of him and kissed him deeply, his tongue filling his mouth and his fingers wrapping into his ponytail.

  Hawk had felt Erik’s erection pressing into his thigh and given himself a hundred reasons he should not be kissing a client, but then Erik hadn’t been shy about expressing his needs and had quickly unzipped Hawk’s pants, finding him equally ready, and Hawk had forgotten every single shouldn’t. After that day, the two seemed to be an item—at least on the mountain and at Hawk’s house. They never ventured into town together as Erik was in no more hurry than Hawk had been to come out of the closet. Regardless, when Erik’s research week had become first one month and then two, Hawk had started to believe they might have a future together.

  Shadow returned from her romp through the snow and barked softly.

  “I know. I was an idiot.”

  His K-9 companion shepherd-wolf mix was solid black except for her lighter underbelly, making her almost invisible in the dark, but Hawk could tell she was pacing nervously. “I know, girl. I want to get back to that ridge too.”

  The dog circled and went to the back door.

  “You want to go check on the stranger?”

  She woofed under her breath.

  “I have to admit, I’m more curious about the man upstairs than a mystery on the mountain. He was certain whatever his grandfather had seen had been a natural phenomenon.

  Woof-woof.

  “All right.” Shadow raced inside through the doggie door. Hawk shook his head and turned his attention back to the mountain. It was only when he realized the wind had started blowing hard enough to sting his exposed skin that he decided to head inside.

  By the time Hawk returned to the bedroom with coffee, he found Brian sitting in the window seat, staring out the window, and Shadow had staked ownership on the man’s lap. Brian glanced his way only to acknowledge he knew Hawk had entered. Without humor, he muttered, “Go to Columbia for the beans?”

  Hawk snorted and refilled Brian’s cup, but didn’t take the bait. His patient’s mood seemed to have deteriorated while he was downstairs. He poured himself a fresh cup then sat the pot on a small grate next to the fireplace. “You know that dog is too big to be treating it like a baby. She’s a work animal, not a lap dog.”

  He hated admitting to himself he was jealous of the dog. It wasn’t a proud moment. He was certain if he had met Brian under any other circumstances, he wouldn’t be affecting him the way he was affecting him. He blamed it on Erik’s abrupt departure. He’d almost tricked himself into believing he was in a relationship, and now for the first time in his life, he was a lonely man. He didn’t want to step out of the closet, but he also knew the traditional marriage route hadn’t worked the first time, so he wasn’t sure what in the hell he wanted.

  “Shadow. Here.” He saw Brian’s back stiffen, but he continued to stare out the window. The dog didn’t come to him. What the hell?

  Brian buried his face in Shadow’s neck, and Hawk realized Brian was crying. He sat down beside him but didn’t say anything. He let the dog comfort the man and fought the instinct to wrap him in his arms, to kiss him and make promises that whatever was wrong he could help him resolve. Or kiss him long enough to take his mind off his problems.

  No. He had to remain professional. Detached. Definitely not sexual.

  Looking through the frosted panes at blowing snow, the entire municipality was visible. The snow was deep, making the street seem level with the board walks that ran the length of the town and were in actuality several feet above ground level. The six block historical downtown was made up of two and three story buildings, most of which were built in the eighteen hundreds. Most were storefronts, the upper levels apartments the owners lived in or rented out as residential or office space. The quaint storefronts drew tourists, but for the most part offered all the goods anyone living in town or any of the smaller mountainside communities could ask for, from groceries and baked goods, to clothing and hardware.

  The police station and library anchored the north end; beyond that the direction to Missoula. A plain white church with towering steeple and Sarah’s Diner anchored the south end. About the only thing of note to the west a ways down the main cross street was the honky-tonk and VFW lodge. East the auto body shop and a gas station.

  “That snowstorm is showing no signs of letting up, and now with the added wind there would be blowing and drifting.”

  Brian didn’t comment, but from the snow accumulation already on the ground, Hawk knew they were going to be stuck for several more days.

  Alone. Together.

  His dick strained at the front of his jeans, painful after only a few hours’ temptation. Why now? Why this man? Sure, it had been a while, but with his life, his lifestyle, it was always a long while between men. He had better self-control than this.

  “The snow”—Brian broke into Hawk’s wayward thought and he looked to see him wiping the tears off his face—“reminded me of someone.”

  “Brandon?” Hawk asked softly.

  “How did you know?” Brian gasped, turning around so quickly he almost toppled himself and the dog off the narrow ledge seat. His eyes sparked. The dog hopped off his lap and paced nervously.

  Hawk was fascinated by the myriad emotions that played over Brian’s face. “You must have called out to him a hundred times over the last two days. It was an easy guess. Your husband?”

  “No. Brandon was my twin brother, and the asshole my husband was having an affair with. I would never call out for Brandon’s help.”

  Hawk’s jaw dropped. He blinked. “I�
�m sorry.” The ramification hit him hard. His twin brother and his husband? “I don’t know what to say.”

  “They were both dicks. What’s there to say?”

  Hawk ignored the comment and patted his leg so Shadow would lie down. He pointed out the window. “Look there.”

  An elk walked through the center of town like he owned the place. In some places the snow drifted chest level on him and he waded through it with great difficulty; in others it was barely ankle deep. And still the forceful wind sent eddies of snow swirling into ever-deeper drifts.

  “My God. It’s the same animal that ran me off the road.”

  “I doubt it’s the same one. There are hundreds of elk in these parts.”

  “I thought it was a moose.” Brian sniffed and wiped his face, clearly embarrassed by his tears.

  Hawk kept his eyes trained outside on the moose. “It’s an easy enough mistake, if you didn’t grow up around them. There are several differences, but the easiest visual to spot is the shape of the horns.”

  “Brandon died too. He was in the car with Michael…my husband. I shouldn’t be taking it so hard. I’d discovered their affair, and we were in the process of divorcing when they both died.”

  Hawk lifted an eyebrow and met Brian’s gaze. “Was this recent?”

  “We separated eight months ago, the divorce would have been final in January, but they were both killed in a car accident a little more than four months ago. I’d been estranged from both of them—”

  Not nearly enough time for the pain to be easing. Hawk stayed silent and moved only enough to refill their coffee mugs. Handing him a mug he cautioned, “Careful. It’s hot.”

  Brian accepted the cup and buried his nose in the rising steam. “I thought the betrayal was bad as it could get, but that pain didn’t breathe the same air as—”

  “It’s hard losing someone you love. You lost the two most important people in your life,” Hawk said.