Jaxon
Family can be a strange concept at times. There’s the one that a person is born into, the one that they grow up in, and then the one they choose to surround themselves with as an adult. Sometimes they consist of the same people from beginning to end, other times they are constantly changing with the comings and goings of the family group.
The enormous gathering of family at today’s cookout is no exception.
The grounds of the Old Bayou Wildlife Sanctuary echo with the yells and screams of multitudes of children, all of them glomping on to each other without a second thought, even though this is the first time some of them have met. Various Equidae shifters from Sarai’s family’s Herd roll and tumble on the grass with the young otter grandchildren of Doris and her husband Faris. Lions mingle with cougars, and there’s even a silent cephalopod rolling around on the ground with a young pair of maned wolves. Older teenagers, including a pair of spotted hyenas watch over the group with a careful, protective eye, though none of them are related by blood.
Even still, they’re family.
I glance over from my seat below one of trees ringing the clearing and over to the core members of my chosen family. They’re all milling around the massive grill we’ve set up in the middle, chatting and laughing together.
As always, my eyes are drawn to the person who holds my heart and soul in the palm of his hand—my mate, Thom. He’s standing next to my brother-from-another-mother, Rhys Brenin. The three of us have known each other for years, and while our beginning may have been rocky, Thom has been my best friend and most stalwart support for more than half my life. They’re chatting with another lifelong friend, Arok Saputra, and I smile softly to myself at the ease in their stances.
The last few years have been hard on Rhys and Arok, searching out traitors and collaborators within the Shifter Council over which Rhys presides. Shifters they thought friends, people they trusted implicitly have instead turned out to be corrupted by the taint of Vieux Sang, a clandestine organization whose primary objective was to “cleanse” the shifter world of those they deemed of “impure blood” or as “abominations” due to their pedigree, sexual preference, or identity.
I thank the gods every day that such an organization has been obliterated. While there are still stragglers hiding from Council Security Forces, they’re isolated and alone. Thanks to Quin Basset, we have all their files and research, and have been able to cut off access to their funds. Truly, there’s only one particular member of the organization still at large that Rhys is concerned about, and I highly doubt Derek O’Hare is long for this world. I know that there are about two dozen shifters aside from myself and my mate who are champing at the bit to hunt him down and tear him to shreds. Most of them are here today.
My gaze shifts from my mate and brother and over to the group who both me and my dragon, Brand, have chosen as our family. Clan Novo: Sila, Kane, Bash, and Nox. The Z?v trio: Cyril, Sarai, and Aodhán. The Basset Clade: Quin, Simon, Isobel, and Arina.
My colleagues from Reficio, Indah Saputra and Gregor Hayez, are also among the group. Indah, Quin, Simon, and me all have an appointment next week at the newly opened Shifter Ink in Baton Rouge, and Cyril has been making noises about getting another piercing. It’ll be Quin’s first tatt, and bets are being placed on what he’ll get.
My money’s on a Scottish wildcat.
My eyes narrow when I see just how closely Indah and Gregor are standing, their body language screaming false nonchalance.
When the fuck did that happen? I wonder.
“So, Jaxon, how does it feel not having to look over your shoulder for those yellow-bellied bastards anymore?” The rough gravel of Josiah Calhoun’s words rumbles from behind me.
I turn, facing the shifter who has long been both friend and confidante to my chosen brother, and smile.
“A relief, pure and simple, if I’m honest. To know that they’re gone, wiped from the face of the earth and rotting in some dank, dark hole brings joy to my black and bitter heart. This outcome goes well beyond justice or karma. It’s a dream come fucking true, at long last. I’m no longer plagued by nightmares, and it feels as though a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.” My response is unmistakably gleeful. Brand, however, grumbles petulantly inside of me, grumpy and dissatisfied that he never got the opportunity to finish what he started.
“They needed to burn,”he rumbles, but I mentally shrug. Dead is dead, and that’s the most important thing. They don’t have a phoenix up their sleeve, and I thank the gods for it.
“Food is up!” Stefanos Kyrios calls out from where the patriarchs of so many of the gathered families have set up around the grill, and the stampede toward the trestle tables laden with all sorts of culinary delights makes the very ground tremble.
There’s mounds of coleslaw alongside tubs of baked beans, three kinds of creamy potato salad, brisket, pulled pork, mac and cheese, corn on the cob, several types of wings, ribs dripping with barbecue glaze, cornbread, salads galore, bacon-wrapped lil smokies, and enough steak to even satisfy Brand’s bottomless pit of a stomach. Drums filled with ice keep the beer and soda cold, and another trestle table holds paper plates, napkins, and plastic utensils. The matriarchs of the families have all been taking turns redirecting those with a decided sweet-tooth from the house where the desserts are all being stored, much to the disgruntlement of said sweet-seekers.
I wait for the children to be fed and watered before meandering over to join my mate, slinging my arm around his shoulders and tucking him into my chest. There’s not much difference in our heights, but the sheer aura of Brand’s presence dwarfs that of Thom’s python. While neither Thom nor his python are weak or small, I’m eternally grateful that he indulges Brand’s need to protect him, even if that protection verges on the obsessive and possessive. It makes those occasions where he wants to exert his dominance more exciting and special for us all.
Under the watchful gaze of Patrice Calhoun, Rovena Nazaryan, and Granny Loretta, everyone is served with military precision and before long we’re all seated and devouring bowing plates piled high with delicious food. There’s little conversation, everyone too intent on savoring the feast, so when a timid voice pipes up from beyond where Thom is sitting, I almost drop my plate in surprise.
The key word here being almost. Brand would sulk for a week if I wasted good food.
“Mister Jaxon, sir, you’re like us, aren’t you?”
It’s one of the young maned wolves, the ones that were rescued from the facility in Georgia several months ago.
The rescue I wasn’t allowed to be part of.
I chew carefully before swallowing, not wanting to choke on the food filling my mouth. I nod slowly, not sure where this conversation is headed.
“But how can you be like us? We don’t get mates, and you have a mate.” The other maned wolf announces, and I wince at the growl Brand looses, the vibrations rattling my teeth.
“The people who told you that lied, Aaron. They wanted to keep you from being happy, from having hope,” Thom interrupts, his voice gentle yet firm as he corrects Aaron’s assumptions. “But like Abel asked, Jax is just like you. He was taken from his family. He was hurt. And just like you, he escaped. And now he has me.”
I smile at my mate, nudging him a little with my shoulder. Thom has shouldered so much over the past few months that I’m beginning to feel guilty over it all. While he’s my best friend and lover, he’s also my partner. He doesn’t deserve to bear the burden of my baggage alone.
“How did he find you? Were you in there with him, like Shane and Simon and Quin? Or did you rescue him, like Cyril and Aodhán rescued us?” Aaron pipes up again, and I quickly bite back a chuckle as I catch Bash hushing Sila’s grumbled, “What were we, chopped liver?”
At least she got to be part of it all.
“Would you like to hear the story about how Thom and I met? It’s not what you might think, because we weren’t friends, not at all. Not at first, at least.” I offer, and a hush falls over the gathering.
Sila, Bash, Cyril, Sarai, and Petra have all nagged me over the years to tell the story of how Thom and I ended up together. Kane, Nox, and Simon have been a bit more discreet with their curiosity, but it’s blatant on their faces today as they shift closer to where Thom and I are sitting. I glance over at Thom, and then up and over to Rhys. Both of them nod slightly, giving me silent permission to share their story alongside my own.
“Okay, then. Well, it all started about thirty or so years ago, when I was about eleven years old…”