Chapter 12 Wrapped Around Her
Casimir
The rhythmic sound of fists meeting the heavy bag filled the crisp morning air, punctuated by sharp exhales. Koa had been at it for nearly twenty minutes now, his movements precise, controlled, but carrying a tension that hadn’t bled out, no matter how many times he struck.
I exchanged a glance with Zane, who stood beside me stretching his arms over his head.
He hadn’t cracked a joke in the last half-hour, which told me just how much Ko’s outburst from the night before was still weighing on him.
It wasn’t like Z to let things fester, but then, it wasn’t like Ko to say something like that.
The fact that he had, and meant it, sat like a stone in my gut.
We’d given him space last night, but neither Zane nor I had been able to let it go. Not when we’d learned that, for years, our brother had believed himself a weak link. That he thought he had to compensate just to be enough.
It was bullshit.
And we weren’t letting it stand.
“So, Koko.” Zane dropped his arms and rolled his shoulders before stepping forward. Ko grunted, but didn’t stop punching. “You, uh, got anything else you wanna unload on us?”
“What are you talking about?” Ko finally slowed, catching the bag on the return swing to steady it.
“I’m talking about the way you broke my jaw last night, which took nearly half an hour to heal by the way, and the fact that you apparently think you’re some kind of liability because you don’t have magic,” Zane scoffed, crossing his arms.
“It’s not that deep.” Ko’s hands tightened on the heavy bag, knuckles still red from training.
“It is.” I exhaled sharply through my nose. “It’s deep enough that you’ve been carrying it for years without saying a word. Deep enough that the first time it slipped, it came out like a wound tearing open.”
“Look, I don’t want to have this conversation.” Ko’s jaw clenched.
“Tough,” Z said. “Because we do.”
Ko let go of the bag and turned to face us fully, arms crossed. He looked tired, like he’d already fought this battle with himself a hundred times before we ever saw it.
“What do you want me to say?”
“How about the truth?” I took a step closer, holding his gaze. “When did you start believing you had to compensate for not having magic?”
“When didn’t I?” He let out a dry, humorless laugh. “You two grew up knowing you’d be powerful, knowing you had something special in your blood. I grew up knowing that if I wanted to keep up, I’d have to work twice as hard for half as much.”
Zane frowned. “We’ve never treated you like—”
“You didn’t have to.” Ko’s voice was quiet, but firm. “It was always just there. Like a gap between us that no one talked about. I made peace with it a long time ago.”
“No.” I shook my head. “You buried it.”
He flinched. Just a little.
“You’re one of the smartest people I know,” I continued. “And yet you believe this nonsense? That magic is the only thing that matters?”
Ko looked away, and I sighed, dragging a hand through my hair.
“You think magic is what makes us valuable, but do you know what I think about when I think of you? I think about the fact that you never stop learning. That when something is broken, you fix it. That when someone is hurting, you see it, even when they don’t say a word.”
“You’re the one who figured out how to integrate modern tech with ancient magic,” Z added.
“You’re the one who built the interface we use for every mission.
You’re the one who keeps our gear running.
Cruor, you figured out how to program a ward.
Who else is doing that? You’re a fucking techno-mage without being a magic user! ”
Ko’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.
“If you really think you don’t bring anything to the table, you’re an idiot,” Zane huffed.
Ko let out a breath, staring at the ground for a long moment. Then he looked up, gaze flicking between us, something raw and uncertain in his eyes.
“I don’t know how to stop feeling like I have to earn my place.” His voice was quieter now, the anger drained, leaving only weariness in its wake.
“You don’t have to earn what was what you always had. Your worth to us was never in question.” I reached out and clasped his shoulder, and Zane smacked him on the back, grinning, as he added, “Yeah, dumbass. You’re stuck with us.”
Koa exhaled sharply, then, to my surprise, gave a small, almost self-conscious smile.
“I really punched you hard last night, huh?”
Zane rubbed his jaw with a smirk.
“Yeah, you did.” Then he grinned wider and threw an arm around Koa’s shoulders. “You still feel bad about it? Because I accept apologies in the form of a rematch.”
“Bring it, swan boy.” Ko grinned back and shoved him off.
“Glove up first,” I told them. “Seri might walk in. Even if you can heal them fast, she won’t like seeing black eyes and split lips.”
“As if she’ll be able to walk at all today,” Z smirked, wagging his red eyebrows.
And I had to admit that a tiny satisfied smile curled up my own lips.
#
Zane
The day had finally come.
Brumous’ bath day.
Long, long, long overdue.
We had planned to do it yesterday, but things got out of hand in more ways than one. We went to our room early last night, although sleep didn’t happen until after midnight, thanks to our voracious little wife’s needy self.
Not that I’m complaining, I thought with a smirk, cupping my chafed balls gently in fond memory of their noble sacrifice just hours ago.
And then there was Koa’s bullshit bomb, and Cas and I had to straighten him this morning.
But we couldn’t put D-day off any longer, to go by the smell and the bits of food and flora that kept dropping out of the Brumster’s fur and paws.
Or, as Cas pointed out at lunch, “Pup’s filthier than your browser history.”
Plus, I told myself, it will take Seri’s mind off of her stepmonster and stepskanks.
Knowing we needed lots of room for potential chaos, or what Casimir called strategic containment, I opened the back door to the patio, breathing in the warm spring air.
The pergola overhead was tangled with wisteria vines, their buds just starting to unfurl.
It was a nice spot, secluded and private, with the wrought-iron furniture adding a touch of elegance.
Or, it was elegant until I started hauling chairs and tables to the side, clearing space for Operation Bathtime: Dire Edition. I glanced up at the wisteria.
“You’ll be fine,” I told the vines, as if they cared. “Probably.”
Seri appeared in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, worry pinching her brows together.
“Zane, the hose water’s going to be freezing. He’ll hate it.”
“Buckets of warm water, blossom.” I smirked, tapping my temple like I’d just solved world peace. “We’ll carry them out. Besides, do we even have a hose?”
Addison shuffled into view behind her, clutching a bucket in one hand. The kid looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, his enormous dark eyes darting around like he was searching for an escape route.
Seri lit up when she saw him.
“Addison! Perfect timing.” She stepped aside to let him pass, her voice softening like she was talking to a skittish deer. “Brummy, this is Addison. Addison, this is Brumous.”
The wolf pup tilted his head, his eyes curious, but Addison froze.
His knuckles whitened around the bucket handle, and he slowly extended his free fist in Brumous’ direction, like he was offering a handshake to a landmine.
Brum sniffed at it, his tail giving a cautious wag, but Addison didn’t move an inch.
I watched the interaction, drumming my fingers on my thigh. Seri was trying so hard with the kid, her energy all warmth and patience, but Addison was like a fortress, all locked down and guarded. Whatever he’d been through, it had left scars deeper than the ones under Brumster’s fur.
“All right,” I said, snapping everyone back to the task at hand.
“Let’s get this show on the road before the fur ball decides it’s zoomie time again.
Addison, you’re on bucket duty, so keep ’em coming.
Seri, stand back and look pretty. And Brum-Brum?
Buddy, you’re about to experience the miracle of soap. ”
He barked once, like he was challenging me, and I grinned. This was going to be awesome. Or a disaster. Or both.
Cas set down a bucket with a slosh that matched the unease rippling off Seri. Her fingers twisted in Brumous’ matted scruff, knuckles whitening as she opened her mouth.
“Before you ask,” he cut her off, “the answer remains no.”
Her chin lifted exactly two inches, a spark of stubbornness cutting through the lingering fog of please-don’t-hit-me hesitance.
“But if I just hold the shampoo bottle—”
“Forty-two teeth.” Casimir began ticking points on his long fingers. “Canines measuring eight centimeters. Sixteen claws. Comparative length? A steak knife. One tail. Potential incalculable.”
The wolf’s rear twitched on cue, sending a patio chair skittering into the wisteria. Green leaves rained down like botanical confetti.
“Unpredictability factor?” Ko asked as he appeared with an armload of towels.
“Off the moon-damned charts.” Cas folded his arms over his chest and looked down his nose at Seri. “You weigh ninety-seven pounds. He headbutted the refrigerator this morning when it didn’t dispense ice cubes fast enough. Stand down, little wife.”
The plea cracked through his commander voice. Her throat moved, eyes darting to where Addison hovered behind the kitchen door. Her shoulders folded inward, that damnable self-sacrifice reflex smothering the rebellion.
“In addition to the obvious physical dangers, we have no idea how he’s going to react once we start scrubbing, Seri.” Cas softened just a little. “If he hurt you, none of us, including Brumous, would forgive ourselves.”
“But he’s my wolf.” She frowned, her brows knitting together. “I should be the one—”
“No,” Cas repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.