Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Cleaning out the spare room had been one of those things on Penrith’s to-do list that he’d never gotten around to. When he’d moved in, he’d put the boxes he couldn’t be bothered unpacking in there and moved on. It wasn’t that they held any sentimental value from his last relationship. It was more that they were an accumulation of his life, and he couldn’t be bothered digging through the past. The same was true today, as so far, all he’d managed was to carry most of the boxes into the living room and block off his piano. Which was progress of a kind, as now there was room to set up the spare bed. But he needed to move the boxes if he wanted to play.
Bed first, then boxes.
While he screwed the frame together, a not-so-small part of him hoped Mitchell wouldn’t use the spare bed at all. He recognized that some of that was because of the bond, and he wasn’t sure how people kept it to a working relationship, given how strong the pull toward Mitchell was. If he’d been aware of it before, now that he’d met Mitchell as a man and kissed him, it was all he could think about.
He was glad he wasn’t at work because he’d be doing a poor job of pretending to work. At least while he was on leave, he could get through some of the things that needed doing around the place, such as sorting out the spare room, unpacking the boxes, and putting the shit away.
Although if he hadn’t looked at it in six months, did he need any of it?
Probably not.
But he still needed to unpack it to determine if it was bin- or charity-worthy. He hefted the mattress onto the bed, found the sheets in the wardrobe, and made the bed, then picked up the last box and carried it out, not remembering having so many boxes. He set it next to his altar that he’d reset for the solstice while having breakfast.
He’d always liked the solstices and the ebb and flow of the seasons. It was the shortest night of the year tonight. It was also the first night he’d spend with his mate, which made it significant.
He had expected—or should that be wanted?—Mitchell to turn up on his doorstep the evening after their first meeting, but instead, it had taken two days for him to text and say that he was coming around…and that he would be staying.
For how long, Penrith didn’t know.
They might drive each other crazy after three days.
He did not want to be telling another lover to pick his fucking towel up off the floor. Or to put his cups in the dishwasher instead of leaving them all around the house. He wasn’t some kind of neat freak—he knew that because he had dated a couple—but he liked a modicum of order.
Probably because magic was so chaotic.
At least this time, the man moving in already knew he was a witch—a proper witch, not a human who observed witch holidays.
That didn’t make him any less nervous, though. He wiped his dusty hands on his shorts, sure that the air conditioning was doing fuck all to keep the flat cool.
Now that the boxes were stacked in the living room and taking up far too much space, he couldn’t ignore them as he had when they were in the spare room. It probably meant something. He contemplated the stack of boxes and the altar and decided it meant he had to review the past to have a future, given that it was solstice and his mate was turning up.
He didn’t believe in coincidences; most paranormals didn’t because they understood that the Fates and magic, and other things, were always at work in the background.
His doorbell buzzed.
He walked over and hit the button. “Yeah?”
“It’s Mitchell.”
“Come on up,” he said.
He’d viewed two different apartments. The other required walking up four flights of stairs, as there was no elevator. While it had been nice, at the same time, he’d been injured enough times to know that walking up four flights of stairs was not something he wanted to do. Or something Mitchell could do.
So he’d chosen a modern, rather soulless building with an elevator, one parking bay, and a view of the park if you stood at the end of his balcony. More importantly, his balcony was private. His neighbors couldn’t peer over unless they were hanging off the side of their railing, which meant they had bigger issues than what he was doing. It also meant if he wanted to stand outside skyclad, he could.
It also meant if his mate wanted to sit outside as a wolf, he could.
He could also take his mate for a walk to the park—at night, of course. Too many people would give a wolf on a leash a second glance, as they were larger than dogs, and some had a fur color that didn’t make passing as a dog easy.
Mitchell knocked on his door, and Penrith let him in.
He stood there for a second, his gaze skimming over Penrith as though unsure what to do.
As he was dressed in a tank top and shorts, nothing hid the scars of his magic use. He didn’t need to draw blood every time, but he had done it enough times that humans had too many questions.
He could see questions in Mitchell’s eyes, but they weren’t the same ones.
“You weren’t joking about only wearing black.”
Penrith smiled. “I have some other colors.”
Mostly his socks.
“Come in; I’ve just moved all the boxes.” He couldn’t call it sorting out, as that process hadn’t begun. He could have started the spare room yesterday but had chosen to clean the kitchen instead, as it seemed easier.
“How long have you been here?”
“Since the breakup.”
Mitchell frowned. “Are you always this chill, or do you have flashes of anger?”
“I used to be angry, but I found that was an excuse for not dealing with how I really felt.” He shut the door. “I’ll show you the spare room.”
“Thanks.” Mitchell had a bright blue backpack slung over one shoulder. He hadn’t brought much. Was that because he wasn’t planning on staying long?
This was so awkward. There was a gap he needed to bridge, but he wasn’t sure how to do it. He had no point of reference for this situation, and he’d checked the Coven database, hoping for something.
“It’s only a single bed. But the wardrobe is mostly empty.”
They stood in the doorway of the spare room; Mitchell watched him in the mirrored wardrobe door. “Do you expect me to sleep here, or are you being proper and polite?”
“No, and yes, and I would like to make this less weird. I’m open to suggestions.” He didn’t need the bond to sense the quickening of Mitchell’s heartbeat or the change in his pulse.
“It’s like the awkward morning after a one-night stand when you realize you should’ve fucked off afterward.”
Penrith smiled. “Except we can’t piss off because we’re magically handcuffed together.”
“You know what the solution for that is?” Mitchell lifted one eyebrow.
“No, because I take off. I don’t linger, hoping for seconds in the morning.”
Mitchell dropped the bag on the floor and turned to face him. “Well, you look at the person you’ve woken up next to and make the most of it.”
Then he kissed him as if he had no regrets about being his familiar. “I don’t want to sleep in the spare room, though I appreciate the offer. If we’re doing this, I think we need to do it properly and go all in.”
His lips moved against Penrith as he spoke, the words punctuated by kisses. It took everything Penrith had not to grab his hips and pull him close. “If you keep doing that, I will back you onto that single bed and fuck you.”
“If that was meant to be a threat, you failed.” Mitchell’s tongue traced Penrith’s lower lip, and his hand slid over Penrith’s dick.
Penrith went from half hard to fully hard with that one touch. He couldn’t blame it all on the bond. And even if it was all magic, he didn’t give a fuck. Some things were best not questioned, and this was one of them.
Mitchell gave him another stroke. “I’m guessing you top from that comment?”
“I do everything.” And he liked the way Mitchell was still working over his length.
The bed wasn’t far away, but in this room, there was no lube or condoms. “You?”
“At the moment, all I want is you naked.”
Penrith pulled Mitchell’s T-shirt off, and the cane fell to the floor. They both glanced at it.
“Leave it,” Mitchell said. Then he was tugging off Penrith’s tank top.
Penrith claimed Mitchell’s mouth, kissing him hard as if he could make up for the last four months of being a part. He grabbed his hips the way he had wanted and dragged him close to grind against him.
With each kiss, he took a step forward, forcing Mitchell back toward the bed. Mitchell’s steps were uneven, but Penrith didn’t let him fall until it was onto the bed. He followed, caging Mitchell with his body as though he could control the wolf.
Mitchell’s fingers threaded through his hair and tugged him closer for another kiss.
Penrith rolled his hips as if he were already fucking him. “I should’ve dragged you to my bed.”
“There’s lube in my bag.”
Penrith lifted his eyebrows and stared at his mate.
“What? I didn’t know if you’d have any, and I need to get laid.”
There he was, trying to respect Mitchell’s boundaries and not push, and Mitchell was tearing everything down. But then Mitchell hadn’t lived with the worry of being labeled a shifter binder for the last four months.
Penrith rolled off him and snatched the bag up off the floor. He didn’t need to ask where it was. He knew it was in the front pocket as clearly as if Mitchell had spoken the words.
Without them even trying, the bond was opening up. He felt Mitchell’s hunger and his need to be seen as something other than damaged. He didn’t want allowances made or reminders.
Penrith shoved off his shorts and underwear so he was naked. His cock jutted forward, eager to sink into his mate. Heat flared in Mitchell’s eyes.
He hesitated for only a second before tugging his shorts over his hips. There was another pause as the dark pink, twisted scar was revealed. It looked as though someone had taken a chunk out of his thigh, and that was the best the witches and doctors had been able to do.
“It’s not pretty,” Mitchell said, as though he expected Penrith to change his mind.
“I wasn’t expecting it to be.” He flicked the lid off the lube and squeezed some out, making it clear that he didn’t care and it wouldn’t stop him. He wasn’t sure what was more startling: one big scar or a hundred small ones? “We can compare scars or…” He stroked his cock with lube-slicked fingers.
Now that Mitchell was naked and in front of him, there was only one thing he wanted. He’d been waiting months to claim his mate. He didn’t know how much Mitchell was sensing through the bond, given he was holding back so as not to overwhelm the wolf, but he let his desire slide through.
“We can do that later.” Mitchell reached overhead, grabbed a pillow, and shoved it under his hips. “I’m ready. What are you waiting for?”
“For you to grab your knees and spread your legs. I want to see your hungry hole.”
Mitchell sucked in a breath, his pulse kicking up as he obeyed.
Well fuck, Penrith hadn’t expected that. But now his mate was on the bed, holding his knees, offering his ass.
He slicked his dick as he took the couple of steps back to the bed, then used the same hand to tease Mitchell’s hole. He ran his fingers over the crinkled skin of his tight pucker before pressing two in.
Mitchell groaned and lifted his hips as though that wasn’t enough. “Are you going to tease me or fuck me?”
“Do you really want to rush this?” The need and hunger pulsed within Penrith, and it wasn’t all his own. But at the same time, he didn’t want to get it out of the way. It mattered. This was the first time with his mate. There was a part of him that wanted to be in him already. It was definitely what Mitchell wanted. There was no mistaking that need as the bond was strengthening with every touch.
“Honestly? Yes. This time. Next time, you can go slow. Or maybe I’ll fuck you so slow, you’re begging to come.”
Penrith grinned and pressed the head of his cock against Mitchell’s ass. “I like the sound of that, so it had better not be an empty promise.”
He didn’t give Mitchell a chance to answer as he thrust into him. He sucked in a breath, pausing to give them both a chance to adapt. Mitchell was hot and tight around him, and his need was in Penrith’s blood. A clawing hunger that demanded to be sated and fueled his own lust.
He rolled his hips, sinking deep with each time. Mitchell grunted and bit his lip as if trying to keep quiet. Penrith leaned over him to soothe that bite and claim every noise he made.
Mitchell’s legs wrapped around his hips. “I want to bite you.”
And Penrith needed to feel his mate’s teeth.
He turned his head, offering his neck and shoulder. Mitchell didn’t need a verbal invitation. His teeth raked over Penrith’s skin, and then he clamped down.
The feel of Mitchell’s teeth brought him dangerously close to the edge. He stilled, but Mitchell didn’t. He lifted his hips, grinding his cock against Penrith’s belly. With a gasp, he released the bite as he came, shooting over Penrith’s stomach and chest. Penrith didn’t hold back. He slammed into him a few more times before letting go with a groan.
He dropped his forehead to Mitchell’s shoulder, sucking in air like he’d been underwater for the last four months. “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” Mitchell agreed. “I felt…I felt what you were feeling. You wanted to be bitten.”
“Mmm.” He wasn’t ready to make a sentence. He didn’t want to move.
Mitchell’s fingers threaded through his hair again, though there was no demand this time.
“If the bond wasn’t made before, it is now.”
“Do you always talk this much after sex?” Penrith lifted his head and glanced at Mitchell.
“What? You like to lie here and cuddle in silence?”
“Yeah.” He wanted to relax in the moment, not find words. “Until I slide out or get hard enough to fuck you again.”
“Can I go for option B?”
Penrith gave a low chuckle and rolled his hips, the magic and Mitchell’s need keeping him hard as though they hadn’t just fucked. “That’s what I was hoping you’d want.”
As the sun set, they sat on the balcony, neither of them wearing anything.
“So that’s the end of the longest day of the year,” Mitchell said, as if not sure why it mattered.
Penrith nodded and sipped his gin and tonic. “Endings and beginnings. And so the wheel turns.” He spun his finger in the air.
Mitchell frowned at him. “What does that mean?”
“It’s one of those cusp moments where we tip over into a different energy. The days are no longer lengthening; instead, the nights are. I think it’s an auspicious date.”
“It’s not just the magic for you, is it? You follow the old ways?”
“It’s how I was raised, so yeah, they matter to me. Does that bother you?”
“No. I was curious, that’s all. My family doesn’t have any kind of religion.”
“Plenty of witches don’t observe the old ways. It’s only magic to them. And compared to my mother and grandmother, I’m pretty slack.” His hand drifted to his necklace before dropping to his lap. “What about you when it comes to shifting? Are you one of those who does it regularly and enjoys it, or only as required because it’s a hassle?”
“I used to enjoy it.” His eyebrows pulled together, and he stared at the park. “I’ve only shifted as required since…and some of that was for healing and physio and stuff. I don’t know if I was targeted because I was doing drag or if they saw me prowling one night. It’s made me wary.”
“I can go with you.” He inclined his head at the park. “When you’re ready.”
Mitchell glanced at his toes and gave them a wiggle. “I think I’m ready for a second coat.”
Penrith contemplated his own toes, which Mitchell had painted a rather violent shade of purple—his favorite, apparently.
He’d put a shimmery black on Mitchell’s toenails because he thought the wolf shifter would like the sparkle. He hadn’t been wrong.
He put his glass on the table, picked up the bottle of nail polish, and then knelt in front of Mitchell.
“Do you have Christmas Eve plans?” Mitchell asked.
“No, I don’t have any family in the country anymore.” The aunt he’d been sent over to live with had died two years ago. And since he’d been living in Australia for more than half his life, he wasn’t inclined to return to a place he no longer considered home. “You don’t have to hang out with me. You can spend Christmas with your family.”
Mitchell shook his head. “Sam invited us up to spend Christmas Eve with the pack.”
Penrith didn’t glance up as he carefully applied smooth strokes of polish to Mitchell’s toes. “What will your pack say about that?”
Because pack politics was far more complicated than it seemed, even though the Outcast Pack was no longer a group of outcast wolves but an official pack, they would always be pariahs to some wolves.
A pack of gay wolves, and worse, some of them were familiars? It was positively scandalous. At least to the old-school packs, it was. He was aware of the recent trouble. It was those old-school packs harassing the outcasts that had drawn the hunters to Melbourne in the first place.
“Me being back home is awkward. Obviously, everyone is glad I’m alive and concerned about my injury. But there is a hint that I brought it on myself because of my lifestyle.” Mitchell drained his glass and set it down. “If I go, it’s the equivalent of leaving my pack. I know Sam’s been trying to rebuild bridges with his father, but it takes more than one person to make a change.”
“Are you thinking about staying in your pack and being an extra person pushing for change?”
“I’d like to be that person, the one who was strong enough to carve a new path, but I’m too tired from trying to survive.” He rubbed the twisted scar on his thigh as though it ached.
Penrith remembered where the chain had threaded through him and suppressed a shudder—Mitchell wasn't the only one who had nightmares about that night. All things considered, his leg didn’t look too bad and he was lucky to have kept it.
“Is that the coward’s way?” Mitchell asked.
“No.” Penrith looked up at him. “You can’t help anyone if you don’t take care of yourself. And I will make sure you do. Your well-being is now mine, and mine is yours. Being fated mates means being responsible for your life and someone else’s.”
“Does that mean you’ll come with me?”
“I’m not going to let you go alone to hang out with a new pack. Besides, I know half of them because they work for the Coven.”
“Do they?”
“Well, maybe not half. But Sam, Cooper, Justin, and Taylor all work for the Coven. I know Sam’s husband, Mark, from Coven functions, plus it’s good to know a cop who is also a witch.”
“So, you won’t feel weird if I leave you while I’m running with the wolves?”
“Not at all.” If Mitchell joined the Outcast Pack, then he did by default. And to wolves, pack was family.
Had the Fates given him a wolf familiar so he’d have a family?
“You’ve got a look on your face like you unfolded the universe and found a secret.”
“Marveling at my luck to have been given a familiar.” He leaned in and kissed Mitchell. There was no doubt in his heart that everything was as it should be, and the bond was what they both needed, even though neither of them had been searching for it.
Mitchell cupped Penrith's jaw. “Your certainty is almost terrifying.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I don’t want to fail.”
“You won’t because you’re what I need. The Fates don’t make mistakes. You are meant to be mine, and I am meant to be yours. All you need to do is trust the magic.”