They didn’t have to do it, because the UK didn’t allow large scale packs anymore, but he knew it was something Johnny used to do with his grandpa in Cameroon. He said that some of the best memories of his childhood had been running through parts of the Congolian rainforest together.
Mind you, that had been before his grandfather turned into a cunt and attacked his Aunt Chichi for wanting to pursue a career outside of the pack. That was when they’d all moved to the UK, because it seemed there were dickhead family members in every part of the world.
They crested a bank, taking a sharp right at the slow-moving brook before smashing through tufts of bell heather and sending the bright pink flowers flying up like fireworks. The kids were breathing hard by the time they reached their usual crop of rocks that overlooked the house and surrounding fields.
It looked so tiny below them, like a house made for Borrowers, and the colourful shutters and massive sunflowers were bright against the whitewashed walls.
Johnny pulled up beside him, depositing a panting Marty against his shoulder. The young omega was damp, ears drooping, but he still looked up at Taylor with shining bright eyes.
“I’m getting faster,” Marty said, nuzzling into Taylor’s neck.
Taylor just about fucking melted as he pressed his nose between Marty’s ears and licked away the sweat gathering under his eyes. “Strong,” he replied, as Marty curled up beside him.
He slid his gaze to Johnny, lingering on him as he sat on the edge of the rocks. His sleek black tail curled around his legs as he watched over the pack, the sun setting behind him, blastingorange light through the edges of his fur and giving him a warm, glowy look.
He was every inch a pack alpha, and Taylor had no doubt he would be head of the family when Maman was gone. He’d have a mate and pups of his own, and when that time came, Taylor would just…
He tried to disguise the shudder by licking Marty’s head again.
“Hungry,” Gabriella said, settling against Taylor’s other shoulder.
“Me too,” echoed Clementine, shuffling between his front legs.
Johnny huffed, catching Taylor’s eye as he inclined his massive lupine head. He jumped down from the rocks and padded over to them. “Rest first,” he said, encouraging the kids to lie down.
Taylor lay with them, crossing his front legs and resting his muzzle across them as the kids pulled in tight to his sides. He looked up at Johnny, who was busy licking Gabriella’s head and making her fur stand up.
Gabriella wiggled onto her back and began thumping her paws against Clementine’s head.“Mutt,” she said, claws snagging in her sister’s coat. Clementine snapped her teeth around Gabriella’s leg, which led to both of them kicking and biting each other.
“Stop,” Taylor said, pressing his head over Gabriella’s legs as Clementine got up and sat next to Marty.
Johnny lay down in Clementine’s space, resting his head on his paws as he looked out over the house. Even in wolf form Taylor could see that his eyes were glassy, like he wasn’t fully with them.
Usually, Taylor would have just jumped on his back and bitten his ears, but somehow that didn’t feel right. So, hetentatively lifted his head and pushed his nose into Johnny’s cheek. He rocked it back and forth until Johnny’s lips parted and Taylor could feel his hot, sharp teeth against his nose. Johnny shifted, curling his head around until their cold noses touched.
They couldn’t talk because the kids would hear, but it was enough to make Taylor close his eyes and let his mind go quiet.
“Sweetie!” Chichi called as they stepped into the house later that evening.
She and Kofi often turned up unannounced, which Taylor still found fucking wild, given that his own parents used to pull furniture in front of the door to stop people getting in.
He watched as she yanked Johnny into a hug, her face smooshing against his chest as she jiggled him back and forth. “Tu as encore grandi!”
Johnny chuckled. “I’m nearly twenty-eight, Tati. Fairly certain I’ve stopped growing.”
Chichi waved the comment away, turning her gaze to Taylor. “You too,” she said, pulling his face down to kiss his cheeks.
Although two years older, she looked so remarkably like Maman—same hairstyle, same kind eyes and endless smile—that sometimes it was hard to tell them apart. Except Chichi’s chest and wrists were riddled with burn scars, and Taylor saw the way she winced every time she raised her arms.
It still didn’t stop her from being the brightest person in the room though, and it tickled Taylor that she chose to work with the dead for a living.
“Ma chérie,” came a raspy voice from the kitchen archway. It was Kofi, Chichi’s alpha husband. “Where is my kiss?”
Chichi chuckled, running a hand over his greying locs and kissing the top of his head. Kofi let out a sound like a balloon deflating—an unfortunate but sometimes funny side effect of the tracheostomy tube he’d had removed a few weeks before. Having lung cancer clearly hadn’t affected his game though, because Chichi was grinning like a schoolgirl.
They chatted for a while, Taylor standing by the farmhouse sink with a beer whilst Johnny made the kids ribs. They had some kind of chilli sauce that looked and smelled like it might incinerate Taylor’s trachea, but if someone who’d had a rubber pipe yanked from his throat could handle it, then so could he.
“Give this to young Pember, will you?” Kofi smiled, pressing an unlabelled green bottle into his hand. “The plum wine he made was pretty good, but I think I’ve come up with something even better.”
