5. Nate #3
I get out and roll my neck, letting my muscles relax. This is the place where I can let go a little—the place that’s more home than my house. If it weren’t for the security of regular work from the rest of the pack, I’d have made this my permanent base.
Cas is looking around, taking his fill of the place.
I’m about to tell him about the area when Kato throws an arm over his shoulders and leans down, his lips so close to Cas’s ear he’s practically kissing it.
I shouldn’t listen in, but Kato makes no effort to lower his voice when he says, “Hope you have a fun day at daddy’s fuck shed. ”
Cas chokes with laughter, and I’m left spluttering in indignation. “It—it’s a cabin, not a shed,” I correct.
Kato straightens up, looking me directly in the eye and raising his hands in a show of apology. “Sorry, sorry. Fuck cabin, then.”
I blink. “No, not…I mean, that’s not what I—”
He winks—winks!—at me before stalking back to my car without another look back. I stand there stupefied, watching him nail a perfect three-point turn back to the main road.
And then, it’s just me and Cas.
He’s got his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, his eyes sparkling with amusement. What was I thinking, bringing him out here alone? With nobody else around, there’s nothing to stop me from taking my fill of him.
Wolves. We should be in our wolf forms. That’ll stop me ogling his exposed thighs and his plush lips and his—
“Let’s shift,” I tell him.
The humour disappears from his eyes in an instant. “I’m not sure I’m ready.”
“I think it would do you some good to spend time in fur.” Plus, I’m pretty sure I’ll be less inclined to obsess over his legs when he’s on four and not two.
“I don’t want to, Nathan,” he says, more forcefully this time. “Besides, I want to see the inside of the fu—uh, cabin.”
I want to argue, but he looks like a lost little lamb standing there, the overlong sleeves of his jumper falling to his fingertips and making him seem far smaller than he is. “I’ll show you,” I say. “And then we can go fishing.”
He doesn’t look happy with that, but it must be preferable to shifting, because he walks up the couple of wooden stairs to the cabin without protest.
“Five-six-two-five,” I tell him as I use the combination on the key safe.
“Huh?” Cas asks, even though he’s watching me input the numbers on the pin pad.
“The code. It spells ‘lock,’ if you’re ever needing to get in.”
He peers at me out of the corner of his eyes. “You trust me to have access?”
I shrug as we enter. “Not much here you can lift, even if I thought you were the type.” I doubt he’s in the market for some fishing rods—high-quality as they are. And the contents of my wardrobe are more likely to send him running in the opposite direction at this point.
“It’s bigger than I thought it would be,” he says, head swivelling as he takes in the cabin.
It’s a simple layout—a few rooms and a large cupboard for all my fishing gear.
There’s a small but functional kitchenette and cosy living area, as well as a bedroom and adjoining bathroom at the rear, tucked away out of sight.
The interior decoration is similar to my house, full of rustic colours and natural materials.
Any furniture I didn’t inherit was self-built, though the leather couch and matching chair were crafted by the pack’s leatherworker, Felix.
I wonder what Cas thinks of it. I hope he likes it.
“It does the job,” I tell him. “Sit. Relax. Or make some tea if you want. There’s a generator and solar panels on the roof, so everything works the same as at the house.”
He skips off to the kitchen counter. I keep most things laid out the same at home, tea bags all stuffed into a tin handily labelled Tea. I don’t keep fresh milk up here, but there’s some oat milk that Adrian left in the fridge which Cas makes use of while I get us ready to go out onto the river.
I’m thankful I had the foresight to buy multiple sizes of waders, mostly for the rare occasions that Niall and Adrian join me out on the river. Neither is much into my hobby, but they’ll indulge me for an afternoon before I leave them up here to make the most of the amenities on offer.
As I pick out the rods, I wonder what Cas would think of their relationship.
I’ve been told that our pack is more old-fashioned than the shifters who reside in the cities—city wolves being less rigid with their roles.
Betas like Niall can freely be with omegas like Adrian, and with alphas too.
Omegas aren’t normally attracted to other omegas, but I’d assume that would be okay.
Alphas and alphas…well. It’s one thing to submit to your pack’s head alpha, and another entirely to submit to one on the same level in the hierarchy as you.
“Honey?”
I snap my head around so fast I almost break my neck. Cas is standing there looking expectantly at me.
“Huh?” I ask. Did he actually just—
“For your tea,” he says, his words tumbling out of his mouth. “Do you want honey in your tea?”
My cheeks heat. “Sure. Thanks, Cas.” Of course he wasn’t calling me a fucking pet name. I busy myself with the tackle and lures, my big hands fumbling with the tiny hooks as if I’ve lost all use of my fingers.
Cas is clattering around in the kitchenette, chucking the teaspoons in the sink now that he’s done with them.
I also know the floor will be covered in sticky drops of tea from him throwing out the teabags.
He’s messy—messier than I’d expected from an omega.
Throughout my childhood, my o-dad had kept everything pristine, so I’m not used to it.
He was a homemaker, though. I’m not sure what Cas aspires to, but I don’t get the impression it’s that.
“Tea!” Cas calls, just as I finish grabbing everything we need and setting it up at the front door to take with us. He presents a mug to me with a shy smile, and I settle into my favourite armchair opposite him.
He curls his legs under himself on the sofa, tucking his knees into his oversized jumper. It must be one of Kato’s—there’s the faint odour of cigarette smoke under the detergent. I don’t even mind it.
“Thank you,” I say, taking a careful sip of the hot tea. It’s sweet and soothing, thanks to the honey. “It’s local, you know—the honey,” I tell Cas. “Bryan, one of the betas, harvests it himself.”
“Bryan the beta beekeeper?” he asks, mouth turning up in a little smile. “Sounds like he should be in a children’s TV show.”