21. Furbidden Attraction
Furbidden Attraction
Present Day
Mash
The growling of my stomach woke me. It was either my stomach or Cian’s, but it sounded like the nuclear apocalypse was nigh.
Going by the position of the sun, it was still early morning—six, seven maybe. Definitely no later than eight.
We were both naked, obviously, and curled up on the dusty ledge beside the ravine. Cian was half on his back, half on his side, facing me. His dick was hard, his knot engorged at the base. I was hard too. Every morning waking up next to him was the same.
His soft snoring was less a snore and more like a purr. His dark hair was matted with twigs and leaves and other outdoor crap. I eased the detritus from his curls, careful not to pull on it or wake him.
For about ten seconds I debated covering his junk with something, because whilst werewolf culture on principle was somewhat lacking in modesty, Cian was not a werewolf. He already thought we were all batshit. But I didn’t cover him, because it would have meant getting up and finding a leaf and potentially waking him.
I knew it was wrong—he was asleep and he trusted me—but I couldn’t stop my eyes from travelling over his peaceful body. I’d never thought about another man this way, but Cian was beautiful. Tattoos covered his skin, from his neck to his knees, with only a few square inches of space remaining here and there. There was no overarching design tying all the pieces together; he was a patchwork of impromptu choices and inspiration, and it was stunning. A mishmash of memories and moments shared.
I’d been with him when he’d got some of the work done. Chosen a few of them. Not designed any because I was never as artistically gifted as him, but I liked coming up with the ideas.
Like the bare-chested mermaid I’d chosen on his left hip, or the deep-sea diver’s helmet with octopus tentacles busting out on his right pec, or the Good Boys Club paw print on his arm. It matched the one on my chest.
I liked knowing that he wore pieces of me. That I was always there with him.
His body was a work of art, but his face was a masterpiece.
I knew the angles and lines of Cian’s face better than my own. If I was as skilful as he was with a pen, I would have been able to draw it with my eyes closed. The arch of his dark brows, the slight upturn of his nose, the precise curve of his cupid’s bow, and his lips . . .
His lips . . .
My cells physically ached with the need to feel those lips against mine.
I lay back down on my side, pillowing my head on my arm, and just watched him.
My stomach rumbled again, and again, louder and more violent with each passing minute. It wouldn’t be long before Ci’s fundamental needs roused him too.
A few moments later, the snoring stopped and his eyes fluttered open.
“Were you watching me sleep?” he asked, his voice husky as it warmed up.
“Not for the first time, and won’t be the last,” I replied.
“Fucking stalker.”
I smiled. Cian pushed up onto his elbows, squinted down at his utter nakedness and now semi-hard cock, and groaned from what I assumed was irritation, aching bones, and near perishment. Waking up naked on the cold damp dirt in your thirties will do that to a man.
“I was gonna get something to cover your modesty, but I couldn’t find a large enough leaf,” I said.
Cian barked out a laugh and sat upright, stretching his back. I guessed he’d spent so long around me that being naked in each other’s presence was no longer a big deal. Even being naked and semi-hard.
“I’m fucking starving.” He rubbed his stomach.
“When I was younger, the night before the full moon I’d come out here and stash a pair of shorts and a whole box of Gryphon Crackers. But I haven’t shifted here for so long, I forgot all about it. Next time, we can be more prepared.”
“Mash,” Cian began. His eyebrows knotted at the centre.
A heavy sense of dread hit me in the pit of my stomach. “Oh shit, what did I do last night? Fuck, did I hump you?”
Did I confess to all my secret thoughts? The ones I’d promised I’d never let surface.
I’d told myself this, and yet moments ago I’d been staring at his lips wondering when I might feel them against mine again.
Did I destroy our friendship?
“Do you remember anything?” he said.
My stomach flipped, and my heart smashed against my ribs. I’m gonna lose you, aren’t I? I can’t lose you.
“Some bits,” I said. I raked through my memories. “I remember leaving your glasses outside the marquee . . . and you getting weirded out by the butt sniffing.”
“The butt sniffing is just plain wrong, okay?!” he half-shouted. “I don’t ever wanna be in a position where your great uncle Phil has his nostrils buried in my colon.” He inhaled sharply, and puffed the breath out in a more controlled way. “Do you remember coming here?”
I opened my mouth and closed it again. “No. I don’t. I’m sorry. What did we do?” I hid my face in my hands as I waited for his answer.
Cian’s head tilted to the side. “You really don’t know?”
“Did I try to fuck you? Oh, gods, I’m so sorry. I promise I’m not usually that rapey—”
“Woah, no, you didn’t try to fuck me. You were just you. We came here, we talked, then we . . .” His cheeks went pink. “Nuzzled.”
“We nuzzled, and I didn’t mount you?” I said, frankly incredulous. Shifting into wolf form always lowered my inhibitions so much. The lines between what was in my head and real life got blurred. Perception of right and wrong took a back seat. Desires surfaced.
“Just talked.”
A second sense of dread blossomed deep in my gut. We’d talked. “What did we talk about?” I tried to keep my voice nonchalant, but my insides were very fucking chalant.
He said nothing for a full minute, maybe two. His gaze flicked over my face while he chewed on his lower lip. Then his sights landed on my Good Boys Club tattoo. “About my parents mostly, and how jealous you are that I can shift any time I like and suck myself off.”
My laughter burst from me and echoed throughout the trees. “Was that it?”
He was silent for a few moments. Probably enjoyed watching me squirm. “Pretty much.”
Relief . . . overwhelming relief. I hadn’t told him about my feelings for him, my soul-aching need to always be near him, or about my destiny as pack alpha that would inevitably and eventually tear us apart.
“I might have mentioned this, but I’m so hungry,” he said.
“You’re right, Talking Burger. We should get some food.”
“My morning wood’s gone down too. Do you think I could slip into the house and you could fetch my glasses and clothes? I’m really not sure what to do about this . . . extra layer I’ve got down here. I don’t want to give the game away.”
“Sure.” I had an idea. “Hey, to make it look more like a werewolf’s tip, maybe you could colour the end in pink with permanent marker?” I suggested.
Cian raised one eyebrow at me, non-verbally telling me to fuck off .
“Or not, whatever. What do I know about foreskins? What if you super-glued it back?”
“You’re a doctor!” he said. “Sometimes I forget that you’re a doctor, and then I remember and it blows my mind.”
“I’m a doctor of trees, not turtlenecks. I wonder if you can get dick-skin doctors.”
Cian didn’t answer me. Not about the foreskin thing anyway. I’d have to look that up on my phone when I got back to the house. “Do you know what time it is? I promised Clem I’d help in the kitchen for the post-shift brunch.”
He was smiling, and so was I. Cian loved cooking almost as much as I loved eating his food.
“Some time before eight is my guess.” I pushed to my feet and brushed the forest floor off my ass and thighs. My stomach groaned again. It sounded like the creaking of a haunted attic. “I’m gonna need a snack before brunch.”
“Come on, then,” he said, standing up as well.
“Ooh, ears and tail,” I reminded him. “Just in case we see anyone on the way.”
Cian closed his eyes, and the next second his ears shifted up his head and a tail popped out. The motion caused his dick to bounce.
“Urologist!” I declared to the empty kitchen as I made myself a peanut butter and jam sandwich and looked up the correct term for a foreskin doctor.
Not solely foreskins, but urologists handled all urinary and . . . peen related problems.
Good to know, I guessed.
Cian was at Clem’s B&B helping with the breakfast-brunch-lunch post-shift-feast prep. I’d have to tell him about my findings later.
I took a bite out of my sandwich, pushed my phone into my back pocket, and turned around.
To find my nana standing next to the kitchen table.
“Alpha! Nana! Hi, hello. Did you have a nice—uh, how was last night with the pups?”
She didn’t answer my question. “You having men’s troubles?” Her eyes betrayed her suppressed laughter.
“No, it’s for Ci, not for me.” Then I slapped myself on the forehead. Had I said the word foreskin out loud?
“You should take him to see Dr Drummond on the high street.”
I opened my mouth to object, tell Nana there was nothing wrong with him, but it might not be such a bad idea. Dr Drummond had patient confidentiality to uphold. She’d been one of the town’s main GPs since I was a kid, even treated my first STI. She could be trusted. Maybe she’d also know how to convincingly fake a helmet.
“Okay, thanks. So . . .” I couldn’t think of anything more to say, so I shoved the other half of my sandwich into my mouth. I had a big mouth, and an even bigger foot, and I tended not to keep the two separate enough.
Nana pulled out a chair and sat down.
“Yuhwanna coffee?” I asked, mouth still gummed up with food.
She nodded. “I like him.”
I swallowed. “I like him too.” I poured her coffee from the pot, and got the milk from the fridge. As long as we were talking truths, I’d be fine, wouldn’t put my foot in it.
“He’s good for you. Keeps you grounded. You’re different, but it works well for you both,” she said. If only she knew how different.
“Is this you endorsing the relationship?” My gut churned.
Nana puffed air from her nostrils, and for the first time in forever I got a decent look at her face. At the wrinkles surrounding her eyes and mouth, at the way her skin fell, thin and soft and slightly furry over her cheeks. She got so old . . . seemingly overnight. Though it hadn’t been overnight, had it? I hadn’t truly been home in over a decade. “You should have sought pack permission before pre-mating. It goes against every tradition we uphold.”
“I’m sorry, Alpha,” I said, choosing the designation over Nana because the seriousness of the situation called for it. She folded her hands over each other on top of the kitchen table, clearly waiting for a better apology from me. “But you can’t help who you fall in love with.”
“I guess you can’t,” she said. She smiled. “Mash, we need to have a proper chat.”
A heavy weight dropped in my stomach.
“But . . . I don’t wanna.” I gave her my big puppy-dog eyes.
“Sit,” she commanded.
I whimpered, but relented and sat next to her. “I know what you’re gonna say, and . . .” I dragged my fingers down my face and groaned. “I’m gonna do it. I’m going to accept the alpha call. Okay? I’ll take over as pack leader. I promise.”
After all, that’s why I’d returned now, wasn’t it? I may not even have realised it when I’d said yes, but the past few days with all the other wolves had confirmed what I’d known deep down—it was time to grow up and accept my fate.
“Oh, Mash.” She pulled my head down to her chest and squished it there. I heard the sobs racking through her lungs.
I couldn’t run from my destiny any longer. I was bound to serve my pack, and the time for that had long since passed. Nana was in her eighties, too old to shift. I should have accepted my responsibilities ages ago. I’ve been shirking them, and letting everyone down in the process.
Clem was running the pack and the reserve in my absence, but she had a business and a family to look after. It was so unfair of me to continually leave them in the shit.
I’d lost my job. I didn’t much care about my apartment. I was a thirty-four-year-old fuckboy, and I’d outgrown my playground. I only had a few friends other than Ci. There was nothing worth returning to Remy for.
Nothing besides Cian.
He was the only reason to stay.
The only reason.
Fuck, I was going to miss him so much.
“I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long. I’ve been . . .” A selfish ass. I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to make up for it.
Nana pulled away and held my face in her papery hands. With her thumb, she brushed a tear from my cheek. I didn’t realise I was crying.
“Ci doesn’t know,” I said. “I never told him about me being alpha because . . .” I couldn’t finish my sentence. “I will tell him. Eventually. Before I accept the call. It’s going to be quite a shock for him. His life will be completely different.”
Because I won’t be at his apartment every day pestering him to hang out.
A fresh wave of tears rolled down my cheeks. Nana stood and fetched me a paper towel.
Would he miss me too?
Of course he would. He loved me.
Being a grownup fucking sucked.
I could still see him, though. I’d be alpha so I could invite him over whenever I wanted. And I could go back to Remy to visit him. But how many days of annual leave did he get at Howl Ya Doing, or would he get from Byte Tech? And how many of those precious days would he be prepared to sacrifice for me? I couldn’t ask him for all of them, to never see his parents again.
It wouldn’t be a forever goodbye.
But it wouldn’t be Bangers and Mash any more. I laughed out loud. He fucking hated that nickname.
“If you need help telling him, just ask. That’s what your mam and I are here for. But you should accept the call of the alpha before you exchange mate bites. There are certain werewolf customs—traditions—that should not be messed with.”
Like no dating non-werewolves.
I nodded. My heart sank further into my chest.
Nana patted my hand. “If he’s a true mate, he’ll not think twice about giving over everything to you.”
I had nothing to say, nothing to counter with. “I know, Nana.” I took a deep breath, my voice shaking as I spoke my next words. “I’ll accept the call of the alpha during the Hunter’s Moon in October.”
That would give me two months to tell Ci.
Two months left of us. After that I guessed I would need to fake a breakup or come clean to everyone.
But not until then. I wouldn’t give him up until I absolutely had to.
“Good boy,” she said, patting my cheek. My tail didn’t move. Then she left the kitchen.
I moved over to the counter to access the only spot in the house that got any Wi-Fi, took my phone out of my back pocket, and into the browser search panel, I typed . . .
How to tell if you’re in love with your best friend.