6. Cas
CAS
After suffering the indignity of losing my footing in the river and flooding my borrowed waders no less than five minutes into our fishing session, Nathan agreed I can swear off the activity forever.
My reaction to getting soaked may be considered dramatic by some, but I stand by weeping so hard I struggle to breathe.
Is it embarrassing? Yes. With the benefit of hindsight, would I choose a less dramatic response? Also yes. Do I regret that it resulted in me getting carried back to the cabin by almost six and a half foot of hot, jacked, ginger alpha?
No.
Granted, I’d prefer not to be reduced to wiping my runny nose on my (tragically wet) sleeve in front of said hot, jacked, ginger alpha, but beggars can’t be choosers.
I refuse to get into my fur or squelch anywhere in wet socks and shoes, and Nathan refuses to let me walk barefoot.
He’s concerned I could step on a rogue shard of glass or wayward fishing hook, even though—according to him—he’s the only one who spends any time here and would never sully the wilderness with rubbish.
So, stripped of my sodden jumper and pressed to Nathan’s solid back is where I find myself, held up effortlessly by one of his large hands supporting my weight, the other carrying the majority of our gear.
“Sorry I cut your sesh short,” I mumble into his shoulder.
“’Tis fine.” He doesn’t sound bothered, but I can’t resist explaining myself further now I’ve caught my breath.
“I just really can’t stand wet clothing.”
Nathan turns his head as much as his thick neck will allow, and I crane mine so we’re almost eye to eye. “Cas, it’s all right. I’m the one who should be apologising.”
I furrow my brow. “How so?”
“I thought fishing might be…healing, or something like that. I didn’t expect you to fall in and have a meltdown.”
“It wasn’t a meltdown,” I rebut, even though it was definitely a meltdown. “And I didn’t fall in the river. The river fell in me.”
Nathan’s chuckle reverberates through my whole body. I tighten my arms around his neck as he picks up the pace, bouncing me as he walks. Unwillingly, my thoughts turn melancholic. The last time anyone carried me like this was when I was a child, on my alpha dad’s shoulders.
I bury my face into Nathan’s neck, taking a steadying breath through my nose. His smell—similar to that of the countryside around us—comforts me instantly, and I relax fully, letting him take my weight.
A contented rumble emanates from his chest. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, he speaks again. “I’m glad we found you.”
I squeeze my knees around his middle in response. “Me too.” I could have run into the arms of people far worse than Nathan and Kato.
As we approach the cabin I detect new scents in the air. Lifting my head from Nathan’s neck, I sniff. Two shifters—a beta and omega, I think.
“Fucking hell,” Nathan mutters. “I didn’t think to tell them I was using the cabin today.”
“Who is it?” I ask.
“Adrian and Niall.”
I search my memory. “The one who lent me the clothing and the one who checked me over?”
“That’s right. They know the code; they must have helped themselves to the cabin while we were out.”
Even from outside, distinct noises can be heard. Specifically, the sounds of sex.
“Are they fucking in there?” I ask loudly, hoping to give the other shifters suitable warning before Nathan walks us to the door.
“Most likely,” Nathan replies, opening the door anyway.
I expect there to be a mad dash as Adrian and Niall cover themselves, but contrary to my experiences so far with this pack, these two are apparently far less concerned with public nudity or displays of affection.
A head of messy brown curls pop up from behind the sofa, eyes full of mischief as he takes us in.
He’s beautiful, this omega—little patches of stark white skin dot his pale face and neck, a few spots of white pigment visible on his hands where they grip the edge of the sofa. Vitiligo, I think it’s called.
“I take it you didn’t check your phone, eh, Nathan?” Adrian says cheekily, looking rather pleased with himself.
“To be fair, Ades,” another voice—Niall’s, I assume—says, “you did wait until after we’d arrived to text him.
” His head appears too, his ginger hair also in disarray, his pale, freckled skin flushed pink.
“Oh, hi Cas,” he adds with a toothy smile.
“Good to see you conscious this time. I’m Niall, and this menace of a shifter is Adrian. ”
Adrian waggles his fingers in my direction. “I see you haven’t made much use of my spare clothes.”
I shrug. “Good thing I didn’t because it would’ve got soaked.”
“Oh dear,” Niall responds, though I get the impression he’s stifling a laugh. “Nathan, you didn’t take him fishing, did you?”
Nathan grunts an affirmative.
“Nobody likes your old man hobby but you,” Adrian says, draping his arms over the sofa and propping his chin on the edge. “Especially not cute young things like—ah!” He turns to Niall, gasping. “Don’t poke me, you bastard.”
“You’re not housetrained, love, what else am I supposed to do?”
Adrian scrunches his face into a good-natured scowl. “At least put your fingers back to good use if you’re gonna stick them somewhere.”
“Please don’t,” Nathan says. “I let you fuck here, but I don’t actually want to see it.”
“Yeah you do,” Adrian says with a snort of laughter. “Live porn is totally your thing, you kinky fuck.”
“I will change the code to my lockbox if you continue,” Nathan grumbles.
“No, you won’t,” Adrian says. “You love me too much. And you’d miss Niall’s sauces.” Adrian’s dark brown eyes—far too knowing for my liking—swing to me. “So, we don’t get many unmated omegas around these parts. How did you end up here?”
My stomach twists with discomfort at how easily he calls me an omega. Before I can even think about how to reply, Nathan makes an annoyed noise in the back of his throat. “No interrogation, Adrian,” he warns, then stomps across the room towards his bedroom with me still clinging to his back.
Adrian lets out an aborted wolf whistle as we pass, cut short by what I assume is another poke from Niall, judging by the squawk of outrage that follows.
Nathan shuts the bedroom door behind us firmly. “My friends are dickheads,” he announces, lowering me to the ground.
“They’re all right,” I say. I’ve never had many friends—dickheads or not. I always preferred the company of horses to people. You know what you’re getting with horses. People, on the other hand…
Adrian and Niall are whispering to each other, and I try to drown them out even though I’m certain they’re talking about me and Nathan.
“Go shower,” Nathan says, nodding towards the en suite. “I’ll deal with our interlopers.”
“I don’t mind them being here.”
“You sure?”
“It’s…nice. Knowing other people in the pack. Makes me feel like I’m part of it.”
Nathan gives me a rare, precious smile that I’m pretty sure I’ll remember forever. “You are, y’know. If you want to be. Part of our pack.”
“What does your alpha have to say about that?”
A muscle in Nathan’s jaw ticks. “Doesn’t matter if enough other folk want you to stay.”
I look up at him. “Would you like me to stay?”
“Yes,” he says instantly. “If you want that, I want that too.”
Before, being wanted was a scary prospect.
Now? Being wanted by Nathan—even if only to stay in the pack and for nothing more—doesn’t feel weighted by expectations I’ll never meet.
Adrian’s presence proves as much. I feared Nathan would be a typical alpha, wanting me to be the perfect omega.
But here he is, offering his place to an omega and beta couple, joking with them both, with no sense of superiority.
So, despite everything I’ve gone through, I say, “I think I’d like that.”
It begins that night, back at—well, calling Nathan’s place home is presumptuous, but it’s the only home I have right now.
After showering at the cabin, I felt a bit warm and fuzzy around the edges while we hung out with Adrian and Niall (by then fully clothed and thankfully no longer actively copulating), but I’d thought it was an aftereffect of my not-meltdown at the river.
I should have known the suppressants I’d taken during my escape wouldn’t last long, but I thought I might’ve had longer—a week, even a month.
My erratic behaviour (like bursting into tears when I accidentally pour too much gravy on my plate at dinner and turn my mash into a soggy mess) doesn’t seem to register with Nathan and Kato.
Not the fact that I’ve so far refused to wear anything other than their clothing, despite having other options.
Not when I purr loudly in response to Nathan pressing a cool, calloused hand to my clammy forehead, worrying over my flushed appearance.
They seem content to write my behaviour off as Cas being Cas.
To be known by people again is…strange. Nice, but strange. At uni I was the quiet outsider, and having grown up around more humans than shifters, I’ve always felt like I needed to hide half of myself. Nathan and Kato don’t expect me to hide.
Who knew that being discovered stuffing my pillowcases full of their worn boxers—so I’ll be able to smell them all night—would be the way I find out my heat is coming. And because my life is one mortifying event after another, it’s the two of them that walk in on this brand new ritual.
“What the fuck, Cas?” Kato asks succinctly.
Even with my back to the door I can feel the weight of their stares, but I don’t stop—my desperate need to squirrel away my stolen treasures overriding my embarrassment.
“Shit,” Nathan utters under his breath, and it’s the genuine worry in his tone that finally forces me to turn and face them.
“Ohh,” Kato drawls. “Now I get it. I’d been looking for that pair, Cas.
They’re my faves.” He nods to where I’m clutching a pair of his briefs that I may or may not have snagged from the floor of his messy bedroom.
I hide them behind my back, as if he might forget I took them if he can no longer see them.