4. Knot So Fast, Buddy
Knot So Fast, Buddy
Present Day
Mash
Igot the letter this morning. Not printed, but scribed. On heavy-duty, fancy-pants cream paper with a wax seal. Alpha liked the theatrics and the “traditional” values of a hand-written, hand-delivered letter. In this instance, traditional roughly translated to ancient.
My Dearest Mash,
You are cordially invited to join us for Harvest Fest this year. From 16th August until 25th October.
Since you failed to attend the previous nine Harvest Fest celebrations, your presence this year is MANDATORY.
NONNEGOTIABLE.
OR ELSE.
WE WILL SEE YOU THERE.
You may bring a plus one. Please call the pack for approval of your plus one.
Alpha
But because the wolves who handled the everyday logistics of managing the pack—my sisters and brother and brothers-in-law—weren’t crumbling to mushroom fodder, I also received an email at the same time.
From: salty_wolf@mythicmail.com
To: m.cassidy@remy.uni.bl
Wed, 31 st July, 11:23 a.m.
Hey Mash,
Alpha asked me to email you. She wants to make sure you’ll be here this year. I don’t think she’ll take no for an answer, so you’d better get your butt up here before she sends one of us to Remy to come fetch you.
She said it’s nearly time.
Anyway, send us a message to confirm. If only to keep her off our backs.
The betas
XOXO
P.S. We all miss you loads.
I stuffed the letter into the butt pocket of my shorts, my phone into the other butt pocket, and thanked the gods I was riding the underground trains. No signal down here, so Alpha couldn’t call me. I knew the second I had even the faintest hint of a bar of service, she’d be on that phone haranguing me. I pictured her now, standing at the kitchen counter—the only place in the house to get any signal or Wi-Fi or any connection to the outside world—periodically calling my number, getting more agitated with each unsuccessful dial.
I debated staying on these trains all day, using up all my U-Rail credits, circling Remy’s bowels over and over, just to remain in this little pocket of calm. Perhaps I could toss my phone into the Rafat River.
But I had an appointment to attend. A rather important appointment at uni which couldn’t wait, and could ultimately spell the end of my career. I mean, it was one hundred percent my fault, and I would deal with whatever consequences I’d brought about. Still didn’t mean I was excited for my bollocking.
Sure enough, the second I stepped foot into the city’s suffocating summer air, my phone started ringing. The screen said Alpha . I let it go to voicemail. Alpha called again. I contemplated stomping my phone to powder. It stopped ringing. A minute later, a text appeared in the preview window.
Alpha:
Answer your phone, Mashew, or there will be consequences.
Fuck.
It rang again. Alpha flashed on the screen. I answered.
“Hi, Nana,” I said, putting on my bright and breezy voice. The I haven’t been ignoring you or my responsibilities for the past decade voice.
“Mash,” she said, her tone part kindness and part woman at the very end of her tether.
My grandmother was one of those tough on the outside, tough on the inside old folk. As pack alpha, she ran a tight ship, because with eleven immediate members of the Cassidy pack and dozens of extended pack wolves, there was little room for flimsy leadership. She was the boss, the don, the head honcho, and she ruled with . . . well, not quite an iron fist, but like a really strong one. Basically, she took no bullshit, but she always had time and patience for the young ’uns—the cubs.
At thirty-four, I was considered neither of those things any more. My days of slathering on the excuses and worming out of these events were numbered, and I knew it. I refrained from whinging and waited for her to speak.
“So? We haven’t seen you since Winter Fest, and that was only for two nights. You need to come home for a shift.”
“Nana, you know I can’t be there.” I had to stick with facts. Keep emotion out of it. “Harvest Fest takes up the entire first term of uni. I can’t have that kind of time off work.”
She was quiet for a few moments. When she spoke, her voice was gentle . . . understanding. But not that understanding. “Mash, I’m not asking you to be here. I’m telling you, you need to come home. Harvest Fest is important—imperative even—for pack dynamics, and the longer you leave it, the harder it’s going to be to adjust. Time’s running out. I’m not sure how much longer things can stay as they are. I’m too old to shift.”
Urgh, I knew this was about more than the bastard Harvest Fest.
“But . . . uni . . .”
“Mashew Keyland Cassidy!” Damn, not the full name. “Do you understand what that means? I’m so old, I’ve lost my shift. I have to stay behind with the cubs now. This is your future. It’s time you returned home and mated. Dee-Dee will be here and she’ll make a fine mate for you.”
Every fucking time. Did they not realise I wasn’t interested in Dee-Dee? Not like that, anyway.
Sure, she was hot—ridiculously hot—about ten years my senior, a successful businesswoman, funny as fuck, with curves every-damn-where. If we’d met in a bar, we wouldn’t have made it to my apartment before I’d have had her clothes off.
But Mashew Keyland Cassidy was not built to get mated and have a family, or any kind of responsibilities.
“Dee-Dee’s my cousin,” I countered, even though technically she wasn’t.
“She’s not your cousin. Well, not your cousin by blood, anyway. She would make the perfect mate for you. She’s very focused and hardworking, makes a lot of money, and I think she’ll be great at keeping you in check.”
“No, Nana.”
“Beg your pardon,” Nana said, impatience growing more obvious in her voice.
“I mean, she’s wrong for me.”
No woman would ever be “right” for me or good at keeping me in check. I was uncheckable . . . untameable, whatever. I planned to live the rest of my life as a horny free agent. Fuck my way through the Eight and a Half Kingdoms. Never develop any attachment to or dependency on anyone. Avoid my responsibility. Avoid my calling.
Avoiding my calling was my calling.
No, my destiny was to live my life only for me. I didn’t need a mate, a wife, a family. Didn’t need to return to Howling Pines. Ever.
“Besides,” I added. “I have lectures and seminars that will start in September. Students who are relying on me. I can’t just up and leave them.”
“Mash, this is more important than lectures and students. Do I need to call the dean? She’s fae, but I’m sure she understands how much this means to were culture.”
“No! Gods no. Fuck no.” That was the last thing I needed. Not with the amount of trouble I was about to be in.
“So, you’ll speak to her and book the time off, and we’ll make arrangements with Dee-Dee’s pack.” It was not a question.
“I can’t . . .” I sputtered, panicking now. Urgh, fuck. “Um, I can’t because . . . uh, because I’m seeing someone already.” Shit, why had I said that? The first thought that had flitted through my head, and for some stupid reason, I seized it with both hands. But maybe it could work . . . It wasn’t gonna work. “Yeah, I’m seeing someone so I can’t . . . mate Dee-Dee.”
Brushing aside the fact she was my cousin anyway.
“You’re seeing someone?” Nana sounded surprised. Reeeealllly didn’t blame her. “Is it serious? Is she were? Because I know your predilections for human women—”
“Yes, she’s were. Of course she’s were. What do you take me for?” Cool, cool, so on top of lying to my nana, I also had to pay dues to her speciesism. “And yes, it’s pretty serious. We’re . . .” Ah, fuck, might as well go all in. “We’re mated—pre-mated.”
The werewolf equivalent of a human engagement.
“You are?!” Nana was silent for a good minute. If it wasn’t for the radio still playing softly in the background, I’d have assumed she’d hung up in outrage. “Why haven’t you told us before? Clem said you spoke to her last week. You never mentioned anything. How long have you been seeing her?”
Lying to my nana and my alpha was a terrible decision, probably up there in the hall-of-terrible-decisions fame. “We’ve been dating for about ehhhhh years now.”
“How many?”
“Sorry, Nana, the line’s really bad.”
Fuck, why had I done this? I knew what was coming next, and yet there was nothing I could do to stop it.
“It’s settled then. You’ll bring your mate to Howling Pines to meet everyone, and we’ll begin the initiation. She needs to understand what her future entails.”
I felt like puking. “And what if I can’t get the time off work?”
“If that’s the case, I will personally visit Remy University and hand your resignation in for you.”
I scrubbed a hand down my face. Urgh, what the hell was I going to do?
“Okay,” I found myself whispering, the word no louder than a breath.
“Good boy, Mash. We’ll see you in three weeks.” She paused, waited for me to fill the silence, but I had nothing. “You still there?”
“Still here. Line’s bad.”
“What’s your mate’s name, by the way?”
“My mate, yeah, um, it’s—”
I cut off the phone.
Damn, damn, damn, damn. What was I gonna do? Let Alpha, and no doubt half the pack, march into Remy to confront the dean and drag me kicking and screaming back to Howling Pines? Or suck it up? Go to the Harvest Fest celebrations? Invent a mate and pretend they couldn’t come?
But that would never fly. The betas would insist on video calling them to make sure they passed their secret werewolf tests. Maybe I could pretend my mate worked in the mountains of East Winterlands or somewhere so remote they didn’t have access to phones. I could say they were an arctic explorer or some shit.
Or maybe I could say we broke up. Except . . .
They’d try to fix me up with Dee-Dee again, and I doubted they’d take no for an answer this time. Shit, shit, shit.
Maybe I could convince the dean to call Nana and say there was no way the uni would grant me the time off work.
Damn, I was living in a dreamland. Something would materialise in my mind later, a way around this fucking mess, but it would have to wait. I was at the front doors of the university.
I took a deep breath and marched straight up to Dean Agnes Snow’s office.
“Dr Cassidy, glad you made it. My apologies for the short notice. Do come in,” Agnes said, answering her door after I knocked.