The Good Boys Club (Mythical Mishaps #2)

41. All Dogs Go to Heaven

All Dogs Go to Heaven

Present Day

Cian

We rode in the bed of Kimmy’s truck because Clem and Dylan were in the cab, and there were only four seats in total. My new boss, the woman I shamelessly begged for a job, and Mash’s mum. It could have been so much more awkward than it was, but it also could have been a lot less. At least I was finally dressed. And Kimmy remembered to bring my glasses so I could see.

We’d left my car in the lay-by and would come back tomorrow with some petrol. I’d taken all my valuables out, including my suitcases, which were now rolling around near our feet with a bunch of chopped up bits of wood.

I couldn’t keep my hands off Mash, and he couldn’t keep his hands off me. We sat with our backs against the rear window, our legs stretched out in front of us. Mash cupped my face and kissed me. And kissed me. And kissed me. Long slow wet kisses, soft quick butterfly kisses, kisses that weren’t even kisses, that were simply Mash holding his open mouth against mine while he caught his breath.

All the while I couldn’t help but feel how much sweeter, hotter, better it was, because alongside those kisses was the underlying knowledge that he was finally mine. All mine. And probably had been for some time.

Mash was mine.

“If you’re . . .” Kiss. “Okay with it, we could . . .” Kiss. “Exchange mate bites . . .” Kiss. “After I’ve accepted the call of the . . .” Kiss. “Alpha, next full moon,” he said.

“Ye—” Kiss. “That’s—” Kiss. “Good with me—” he eventually let me get out, before he locked his lips onto mine for the rest of the journey home.

“Right, we’ve come up with a plan,” Kimmy said, lowering the truck’s tail so we could hop out easier. “We’ll just walk straight into the post-shift brunch and make an announcement.”

I looked at Clem, and the realisation hit me. “Oh my gods, you’re here and not there. What’s happening with the brunch? I mean . . . the food?” In my head there were a hundred hungry wolves banging on the banqueting tables with their cutlery singing “why are we waiting?”

Clem glanced at her watch. I glanced at mine. Just past midday, the brunch would have started only moments ago. “Alpha’s giving everyone cereal.”

I laughed, realised it hadn’t been a joke. “Oh, okay.”

“I could go for some Sprite Pops right about now,” Mash said, stretching out his back and rubbing his bare tummy.

Of course he could. Mash didn’t seem remotely concerned that in a few minutes time, all these wolves might universally reject our matehood.

He obviously read the worry in my features. “It’ll be fine. The other packs will be cool about it, I promise. They love the Cassidys and our annual Harvest Fest parties. They’re not going to jeopardise their invites next year by being fuckholes about it.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. I found it somewhat difficult to accept that a bunch of set-in-their-ways wolves would put party invitations before their supposed morals. But I also desperately wanted to believe him. I turned to Kimmy.

“It’s unlikely,” she said. “Mash will be alpha next month. They’ll want to get in his good books. He’s going to . . . have a lot of influence.”

“Plus,” Mash added, ignoring his mum’s comment. “If they are A-holes about it, we’ll go and piss all over their territory.” He pouted his lip in thought, and then nodded, evidently pleased with his idea.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Dee-Dee said with a shrug. “I could be up for some territorial pissing.”

“Agreed,” Clem said.

Together as five, we walked to the marquee. Chatter and the tinkling of spoons against china bowls greeted us outside the entrance.

“Should I have my ears and tail out?” I asked.

“No, baby,” Mash said, cupping my jaw and bringing his mouth down to mine. “Keep your beanie on. No more pretending, okay?”

I had to close my eyes and take a deep, slow breath to stop my emotions from overwhelming me. “Okay.”

“Here.” He took my glasses off my face, and wiggled the arms down to near enough their original position. They were wonky as fuck, sitting askew on my nose. I unfocused my eyes to get used to the warping of my vision. “I’ll buy you new ones. We’ll go to the opticians in Lykos tomorrow, and if they don’t sell non-werewolf glasses, when we go back to Remy to pack up our apartments I’ll buy you a whole suitcase full of them.”

“I love you,” I mouthed to him.

“I love you more,” he replied.

“Ready?” Kimmy asked.

“Ready.”

The chatter dampened at our arrival, then rose again. People hadn’t noticed my lack of ears or tail, as they called out greetings to the other newcomers.

“Kim darling, there you are.”

“The prodigal son returns!”

“Clem, we getting any real food or . . .”

“Mum!”

Clem waved to her kids, but otherwise, all five of us walked up to the top table without acknowledging anyone. It was the same table Clem and I had sat at last time. She picked up an empty champagne flute and a butter knife and tapped the flat edge against the glass. The ringing was instantly lost in the din of chatter. Only a few people turned in our direction.

“LISTEN UP, WOLVES!” Dylan growled at the top of her lungs.

Silence fell like a weighted fire blanket snuffing out flames. All heads now pointed at us.

Fuck, that was a lot of eyes looking at me. My heart felt as though it might try to make a break for it, and my palms were suddenly producing enough sweat to fill a swimming pool.

“The Cassidy successor has an announcement,” she added. She stepped aside and looked at Mash.

Murmurs filled the space, quiet and . . . well, it was difficult to tell for sure, but there was a definite excitement to their buzzing.

“Hey,” Mash boomed. He smiled, and I swear half the marquee’s occupants swooned. “So, a couple of things to announce. Firstly, I will be accepting the call of the alpha at the next full moon.”

At this, the marquee broke into applause. Not just polite clapping, but cheering and whooping and feet stomping. Sports-arena-level cacophony. Mash looked at me and his smile grew wider. His cheeks flushed pink. He was too fucking adorable.

“’Bout bloody time!” someone yelled from one of the long tables when the cheers ebbed.

Mash pointed at them and shot them a wink. He addressed the marquee again. “Secondly, I am also going to exchange mate bites with Cian during the same full moon.”

Applause broke out a second time, though not as enthusiastic. In fact, I spotted several teenage to twenty-something women and a few men decidedly not cheering. Yeah, been there. Knew how they felt.

“But,” Mash said, cutting off the noise once again. “We have more news to share. Cian is . . .” He hesitated, looked at me.

I mustered every ounce of confidence I could find or fake. Imagined I was Mash giving a lecture about lichens or bark and projected my voice.

“I’m a not a werewolf. I’m a shifter.” I scratched the side of my nose. “Uh . . . yeah, sorry about that.” I lost my nerve near the end.

I expected gasps, maybe even a few boos. Instead someone shouted, “Knew it!”

Whispers broke out. I caught a few.

“Told you he was too short.”

“Ever seen a young were with glasses? Nah, mate.”

“If Mash’s happy, and Rita doesn’t care, what difference does it make?”

“Yes! You owe me twenty silvers.”

More than a few bank notes passed between hands. Wait—people were betting on my inauthenticity as a werewolf? I wasn’t sure whether to feel offended by that.

I’d spent a long bloody time with my ears and tail out for nothing, it seemed.

“So if anyone has a problem with that, well . . . you know what you can do,” Mash said.

Rita got to her feet, shaking her head and tutting to herself. She walked over to us on shaky legs, and for the first time since I arrived, she looked every bit her eighty-seven years. Silence fell. The kind of silence only reverence could command.

She frowned up at me and Mash in turn, her eye contact lingering on her grandson’s. After a few moments a soft smile ticked the corner of her mouth. She nodded to Clem and Kimmy, who both nodded back, and then she turned to the other wolves in the marquee.

“If anyone has a problem with my successor’s choice of mate,” she said, her voice surprisingly loud and commanding for someone of her stature. “Quite simply, you can go fuck yourself.”

The applause that erupted this time was thunderous—explosive, deafening, raise-the-roof kind of cheering. I heard her words repeated around the vast space in awe, like an echo, as people began instantly regaling them to their party.

She turned to me, offered me her hand to shake. “Welcome, officially, to the Cassidy pack, Beta.”

I was crying. I knew I was crying, but I didn’t bother to wipe my tears away. “None of that hoity-toity handshaking here,” I said. Instead, I pulled her into a hug.