“Oh, I know, Friggen fracking fudge!” Carson chimed in.
“Friggen fracking fudge?” Jackson repeated and then chuckled. “Why do all your suggestions start with ‘f’?”
“It’s the letter that expresses me the best,” said Carson. “You know, like fuckingbedamned, fuckingunbelievable and then it’s also perfect to fit in the middle of a word you are trying to emphasis such as absofuckinglutely or I know…unfuckingreal…a personal favorite. See? F-words just sound right.”
“Yeah, if you want us to switch to something else it has to be as strong and work as hard as fucking does,” added Zane.
Cody joined in, “You know it’s true, bro. You use it all the time, too. And if you aren’t saying it, you are using itwhen you give us your finger. In fact, I think I saw Daniel try to make one the other day. Where did he learn that sign language from?”
Jackson turned to Steel. “Are you teaching him that?”
Startled, Steel looked up from feeding Daniel his bottle. “What the fuck are you saying? You think I’m teaching our son how to throw the finger? No, I’m not, at least not yet. But he may have already learned it from you before I ever get the chance to do so.”
“You know, bro,” said Colton, “there’s a school of thought in Psychology that believes the less you make something a big deal, the less the child will be inclined to do it. For instance, swearing. If you make a big fuss over Daniel using a swear word, then he’ll use it to see how big the reaction will be each time he does. If you ignore it, Daniel will move onto something else, like refusing to eat a particular food,” he explained.
“I can see that, because isn’t that what we did as kids?” asked Dakota who had joined the group. “Mom would tell us not to do something and what would we do?”
“We would do it,” said Cody.
“Yeah, like the time she told us to leave the red paint cans alone that Dad had put in the garage after painting the barn,” said Carson.
“Oh boy, that was a freakin’ mess,” chuckled Logan.
“What happened?” asked Ian.
“It was the beginning of summer and Dad had gotten us new bikes…beautiful shiny blue and white bicycles for the seven of us. Mom had nagged him until he finally gave in and ordered them for us. Mom thought it would help keep us out of trouble learning how to ride them. So, one day all these boxes appeared,” Logan said and then snorted. “The bikes were in pieces and Dad had to assemble them.”
Dakota picked up the story. “So one night when I snuck down to the kitchen, I heard voices out on the back porch. Peeking out I saw Mom and Dad assembling seven bikes. And let me tell you, there were a lot of swear words being thrown around that night.”
“But what does the red paint have to do with your dad putting bikes together?” asked Steel.
“Well,” Jackson said, grinning, “after the bikes were ready, we spent a week learning how to ride them. Then it became a contest of who could be the first to ride with no hands, pop a wheelie…you get the picture. After all that, we were bored and ignored them until we found the red paint. Even though we’d been told never to touch Dad’s stuff in the garage, we took the paint and painted our bikes red.”
“And don’t forget how much paint we got on our clothes, the driveway and tracked into the house on the way to dinner,” Logan chuckled.
“Okay, I see your point, bro. But…”
“Dylon, your parents have arrived,” called Oracle.
“Okay, remember my instructions,” Jackson said to his brothers as he took his son from his mate. “Did you burp him?”
“Yes, he’s ready to meet the Vice Chair of the High Council,” Steel said laughing. He wrapped his arm around his mate’s waist and ushered him over to the front door. “Dylon, maybe you and Cody should come with us to greet your parents on the front porch.”
“Good point. Come on mate, let’s say hello,” said Dylon. Grasping Cody’s hand in his, they followed Steel andJackson outside. Dylon looked down at their life thread and saw it was pure silver—a good sign—his mate was relaxed and secure. After listening to the conversation among the brothers just now, it solidified his determination to reject the offer he knew his father was going to make. Cody needed to stay here. The love between the brothers was awesome and Cody would need it, along with his, for the dark days ahead. Looking at his mate, he could see Cody’s intense focus on maintaining a balance between the shots of pleasure he was getting from the plug and preventing the painful erection it would cause.Perfect!Keeping the visions from invading Cody’s mind was critical until their bonding was complete.
Cody couldn’t stop the tiny movements even if he wanted to. Every time the plug brushed his prostate, endorphins flooded his body and mind, which made him constantly seek it again and again. Nothing else was as important to him right now as his mate, because Dylon anchored him. He no longer felt he was going to simply disappear. His eyes scanned the sky and saw the helicopter making its approach. Finally, Cody would meet the woman who had made him laugh when he’d lost the ability to do so.
Jackson watched as Robert opened the cabin door and a man climbed down. Turning around, he reached in and lifted out a petite woman. After setting her on the ground next to him, he turned back to grab his briefcase. Jackson chuckled as the woman gave instructions to her husband and Robert, gesturing toward several packages.That must be Dylon’s mother.Jackson examined Lizzie as she walked toward them wearing a trim turquoise suit with a necklace in a matching color. Short, white, wavy hair surrounded a round face that broke into a wide smile when her sparkling, sapphire-blue eyes spied her son. Butwhat Jackson felt was the kindness that emanated from her.Oh, she will be good with Cody, very good.
He shifted his focus from Lizzie to Dylon’s father, Franklin Royd, who, along with Robert, was piling the packages and luggage at the bottom of the front steps. The High Council’s picture didn’t do justice to the man who stood looking up at him—a tall man with salt and pepper short hair, piercing black eyes, high cheek bones, straight nose and a full goatee. Franklin was wearing a dress shirt open at the neck with rolled up sleeves and a button up vest. But the clothes did little to hide the heavily muscled body which radiated power. Jackson instantly knew Franklin Royd was no fool. This man lived a hard life.
“Alpha Blackwood, I’m Franklin Royd.”
“Welcome to the Blackwood Pack,” Jackson said.
“Thank you for inviting us. This is my wife, Elizabeth.”
“Oh, hush Frank, stop with the protocol. We aren’t on Council business. This is our son’s pack and his Alpha. How do you do, Jackson. May I call you Jackson? That Alpha business is all fine and dandy for formal occasions but you’re family now.”
