Strutting out with my Beta, I drop a sloppy kiss on Teddy’s cheek, then mosey towards the barbecue where one of Natty’s Alphas—Beckett?—is standing, and the big stern man offers me a softening of his otherwise hard face.
“Good afternoon, little Omega, you hungry?” He gestures to the chiller next to him, and my stomach gives a loud grumble. A sharp exhale through his nose makes me think he might have found that funny, but his features are so stony, it’s a little hard to decipher, though he seems the care-giving type. “Of course you are. Nathaniel really puts it away when his heat is close, too.”
Blushing, I look for my friend, seeing him starfished in the grass, soaking up the evening rays like the big cat he is, and sigh at Beckett, “I envy him, I swear he can eat everything in sight and never put on a pound.” Another loud sigh, I point to the hot dogs as he opens the chiller, “One of those, please?”
Beckett nods, pulling a sausage from the pack and tossing it on the grill, the sizzling meat framing the bird and insect calls in the background, adding to the homey feel as our packs chat around the porch and lawn. Looking back at the big guy behind the grill, it's pretty hilarious to see Teddy's apron wrapped around him, though it looks more like a banner on his broad chest, barely covering him from the spitting hotdog.
Biceps bulge as he tosses a few more burgers on, too, eyeing Atlas with a suspicious glance as my alpha licks his fingers and sniffs the air again. Beckett’s brows pull together, looking at Atty for a second longer before he shakes his head and puts another burger, as well as a bag full of glazed chicken wings, knowing the wolf is going to polish them off. Prue’s nose follows my Alphas, and Natty shuffles to tip his head backwards to gaze up at his Alpha. Just as Bex flips burgers, those muscular arms flex again, and Natty’s scent thickens, his packs rising in response, and I step away before the gag-worthy scent of liquorice has me bringing my breakfast up next to the food.
Soft rumbling laughter accompanies the nose-clearing scent of sea and salt, flushing the foul tarry stench from my sinuses, and Beckett bobs his head with what could almost pass for embarrassment on anybody else's features, muttering an apology.
“He takes a bit of getting used to, our Bex,” Luc hums, wrapping me in his arms from behind and resting his chin on my head. He’s the only one in the pack short enough to be able to do that without giving himself an aching back, and he enjoys his small acts of possessiveness in front of anyone who can see. I think he’s still rubbing it in the guy's faces that he’s the only one to have knotted me… At least for now. Turning to my jaguar, I narrow my eyes at him with a snort.
“So do you, at least he’s not a grumpy asshat.”
I continue to scowl at Lucas. Lucas scowls back.
My lips twitch, and I watch for the tell-tale crinkle at the corner of his eyes before we’re both hooting with laughter, and my Alpha retreats, hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, you got me. I’ll be nice to Bex.”
“And me.”
“I’m always nice to you,” He purrs, eyes darkening with a scorching once over, “I’ll be even nicer later if you’d like--”
“Go on! Get!” Beckett tosses the nasty grill cloth at the shifter, chasing him off with a yelp as the dirty cloth flops harmlessly to the ground, “Don’t need to be hearin’ this shit.”
Giggling as I watch him grab another beer and throw it to Oberon, Luc retreats towards the others, flopping down on the grass next to Natty and starting up a conversation as they both stretch and flex their fingers where I image curved claws would be when they shift. I wonder if Natty makes biscuits in his shifted form, too.
“You’re good for them,” Beckett remarks, putting the hot dog into the bun and handing it to me. I squirt a generous amount of ketchup, and that has him screwing up his nose, as I take a bite before haphazardly answering through a mouthful.
“What do you mean?”
“I haven’t seen the old bastard this happy since he was a teenager. Before he was our Cardinal and was all serious-like. He used to be a lot of fun.” Beckett's face suggests that he quite liked my Alpha’s version of fun, a sort of far-away, hazy look that tells me he’s slipped into memories. When he looks at me, there’s a brightening of amusement at what must be my reciprocal sour expression. “Don’t you look at me like that, girly. He’s an attractive guy and a shifter. Gives him all that ‘sexy predatory grace’or whatever those books call it.”
My mouth drops open, “You donotread smutty romances, and you definitely don’t read smutty shifter romances…”
Iciness fills the deep brown of his eyes, but his eyebrow raises in a joking challenge, “Say a word and I’ll dunk your short ass in the pool. Not one of them would believe you anyway.” He returns to the grill, looking at the spatula, then at Atlas as my Alpha stands, following his nose towards us, “I read historical military tactics books, very interesting.”
I wish I could say he is wrong, that I could tell Luc that one of his oldest friends is just the same thirsty book-lover as mostof us, but he would laugh me straight back to my bedroom. Natty did insist that Beckett could let loose when he wanted to, but I didn’t think that covered dirty werewolf literature.
Knowing Natty, though, I’d get a whole play-by-play of their sex life. The salacious little winks and lip bites that he directs to his Alpha are almost enough to set off my hormones from the lust pouring off of him.
The sun starts to set properly just after we’ve all eaten, casting infernal light across the open fields around the ranch and dragging the shadows of the woods across the pastures. Rolling through the leaves, the cooler breeze is a nice contrast to the last warmth, and it creates a symphony with Teddy’s wind chime tinkling against the crackling of the fire pit. Smoke curls upwards, hazing the array of fairy lights that decorate the porch, and it’s so comfortable in a way I don’t think I’ve ever known. Laughter echoes around us as we sit in a circle, the big outdoor couch pulled close to the fire to keep us warm, and the rest of the chairs surround the other side. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this happy before, and it fills me in an uncomfortable, aching way. Natty has really landed on his feet with the Hawksridge pack, just like I have with Pack Amberwood, and it makes me feel like there is a future for me here. Maybe there is hope for Omegas yet, when there are packs like ours, packs that we choose, and that choose us every day. And if Natty’s filthy storytelling is anything to go by…
“I swear,” He says dramatically, holding his hands a foot apart and nodding to Oberon, “He’s a freak of nature, Skye, babe. Could not walk for a week.”
There’s a flush on the big shifter's face, yet it’s framed by a little smugness to his smirk and a subtle wink as I gape at him.
“So what,” I respond, absolutely not jealous at all—becauseouch,where the fuck does he put that thing?!—but still letting my Omega preen a little over our mates, “One of mine has fancybits.” I’m stage whispering that last part, mock-clutching my pearls as the lion's mouth drops open.
“No way.” He points through my pack like he’s browsing a brochure, “Not Luc, too big a stick up his ass. Atty is way too sweet. Teddy… Doesn’t give that feeling at all. That leaves Clay and Fury. Given the amount of piercing holes in his face, the fancy peen award goes tooooo Anthony Amberwood.”
“That’s Fury to you, Catnip,” The man himself grunts, lifting me from my place next to him to pull me into his lap, “Nobody calls me Anthony anymore.”
I make a mental note to ask my Cardinal about that at some point later. A name like Fury has got to come with a badass story behind it, though, given the rest of my pack, it might equally be some tragic villain arc. Fury gives me a sharp look, along with a pulse in his aura that tells me I’ll be in trouble later if I do ask, since it must be written all over my face that I’m curious.
Instead, I blow a raspberry at him and tuck up sideways on his lap, curling an arm around his shoulder and pressing the other hand to his steady heart as his scent weaves effortlessly with the burning firepit, with just the slightest boozy hint as his purr rises. Maybe it’s the way I just seem to fit perfectly into his chest, tucked below his chin, sharing our body heat and enjoying the way his thick thighs flex beneath me, but my own purr starts up in response. It’s much quieter, still a little rusty, but it’s enough to feel my Alpha relax and turn Natty towards me with his face lit up like a beaming torch.
“So what you packing, boss man?” Of course, Natty wouldn’t let us have our sweet moment; he is just curious about my wolfman's shiny junk. A shit-eating grin dimples his cheeks when Fury groans at his questions, “C’mon, you gotta tell me how they feel at least.”
