Something Magic

by Justine Taylor

  Caleb’ eyelids are heavy and he feels weightless, even the heavy pull of Mack’s knot against his rim only a feather-touch in his post soul-bonding haze, and still connected, they sleep.

  When they wake a couple hours later, Mack’s knot has gone disappeared, but they’re still intertwined, bodies itchy with their dried come. Caleb is still too weak-limbed and fucked out to do much, so, grinning Mack carries him to the shower, a huge, multi-headed stall with a large stone bench that he sets Caleb on. He switches on the water and adjusts its until it’s steaming and the perfect temperature and caressing his tired body. He leaves him with a kiss on the cheek to change the bedsheets, then comes back to join him. Between long, lingering kisses and loving nuzzles into his neck, Mack washes him head to toe, Caleb mumbling only semi-coherently the entire time.

  “You’re magic drunk,” Mack says, laughing, washing Caleb’s hair as he sits on the bench, leaning against his thigh. “Or maybe just sex drunk,” he adds, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

  “I’m Mack drunk,” Caleb mumbles back, grinning and looking up at him through soapy lashes.

  Once they’re both clean and dressed in fresh pajama pants, Mack tucks Caleb into bed and disappears downstairs and comes back with his arms loaded with food. Caleb is just about to fall asleep, utterly content against soft clean sheets, but when he sees the food he realizes he’s ravenous. “Oh my god, I love you,” he exclaims, grabbing greedily at the plate of sandwiches Mack is carrying.

  He brought chips and cookies and Gatorade too, the ridiculous perfect man. They eat with vigor, getting crumbs all over the clean sheets but not giving a damn. Mack is practically preening with pride, looking the happiest and most relaxed Caleb has ever seen him.

  “This is totally an alpha wolf thing, isn’t it?” Caleb asks, tickling his ribs. “You carried me up to your den, knotted me, cleaned and groomed me, and now you’re feeding me. You’re totally taking care of me, wolfy-style.”

  Mack smiles that wide, gorgeous smile that Caleb knows will never lose the power to stun him. He grabs Caleb’s hand from where it’s poking into his side and brings it to his mouth, kissing the palm before biting gently and growling, shaking it like a dog with a toy. Caleb howls with laughter and tackles him, pinning him back to the bed, knocking over the half-empty plate of cookies.

  “Of course I am,” Mack says, shifting his hips so Caleb can settle more comfortably on top of him. “You’re my mate,” he says, as if it makes sense.

  Caleb smiles, because it does.

  13

  The next several weeks go by in a blur of sex and work and sex and friends and sex. They spend every night together, the weekdays at Caleb’ place in the city and the weekends at Mack’s on the island. Maribel and Abbie get serious enough that Abbie is told about werewolves too, and she and Caleb have a genuine freak out about the supernatural and then have a blast sharing the research they’ve acquired in to this thrilling new world to which they’ve been introduced.

  Caleb gets to know Mack’s pack better, feeling a bit foolish in hindsight when he sees them with his newfound knowledge. It’s not just their preternatural beauty, although that should have been his first clue. It’s also the way they move around each other, with a lupine grace and awareness, strength in every gesture, attuned to each other and especially to Mack.

  One evening a little over a month after they solidified their bond, Caleb is hanging around the shop waiting for Mack to finish a tattoo on a pretty young woman who very obviously finds Mack attractive, and who Caleb is most definitely not shooting imaginary laser eyes at every few minutes. The whole pack, with the exception of the mysterious uncle Liam, is here. Boyd is up front with Dante and Zoey, helping them take down Mack’s framed photos that decorate the waiting area to switch them out with Zoey’s paintings. Maribel catches Caleb watching them, and raises a shapely eyebrow in a questioning look that’s so similar to Mack’s it makes him laugh.

  “I was just noticing,” he explains, “how you all move. You’re all in tune with each other, kinda like you’re all moving to a beat only you can hear.”

  To his surprise, Maribel doesn’t laugh at him, but smiles and gives him a considering look.

  “We are,” she says at last. “Mack’s heartbeat.”

  Caleb wakes up in Mack’s bed on the morning of what would have been his mother’s fifty-fourth birthday. He must be doing a terrible job of hiding his sadness, because Mack is awake at once, curling around him and holding him tight, waiting for his heartbeat to settle before murmuring against his temple. “What’s wrong,” he asks finally.

  “Today’s my mom’s birthday,” he sighs. “When she was live, my dad always used to make a big deal out of it, and we’d always do something kinda big together, like the beach, a couple times to Disneyland. Her birthday and my birthday were the only days she ever took off work.”

  “I remember,” Mack says, hand stroking soothing lines down his side. “We had a substitute on those days. I usually skipped class.”

  Caleb laughs, but it sounds a little hollow. “It’s been a rough day for me ever since…well, you know.” Mack nuzzles into his side, worrying a little patch of beard burn on his ribs before kissing and licking the spot.

  “Why didn’t you tell me,” he says quietly. “I'll cancel dinner.” Mack has invited everyone to his place for dinner, as cooking massive amounts of food for his pack is one of his not-so-secret alpha pleasures.

  “No, please, I want to see everyone. It’s good for me to be normal, you know? I just have to remind myself that she wouldn’t want me to mope, would want me to have fun.”

  It’s the same pep talk he gives himself every year, but this is the first time he actually believes it.

  They stay in bed for a while, Mack covering him with tender kisses as Caleb talks about his mom, slowly at first, and then quickly, like he can’t help it. Mack tells him everything he remembers about her too, which is quite a bit, given their friendship and his exceptional werewolf memory. Caleb gets to her know better because of Mack – gets to know who she was as a teacher and a mentor. He wishes with all of his heart that she were still alive to know that he and Mack had found each other, but it almost feels like she does, when Mack talks about her.

  They eventually get out of bed, and Mack gets to work in the kitchen, making enough Bolognese sauce to feed a platoon, or a small pack of werewolves and two humans. Caleb goes out on the back porch to call his dad. They talk a couple of times of month as it is, but they always make sure to talk on this day, even though they rarely speak of her, just speaking around her, like they’ve done for years.

  They chat for a bit, his dad catching him up on everything going on with Ramona and Lighthouse Cove before Caleb tells him about Mack. He leaves out the werewolf and mates for life parts, of course, but he does tell him that they’re serious, and that he’s in love like he’s never been before.

  “I’m thrilled for you, son,” his dad says. “Mack was a good kid. It was a damn tragedy, what happened to him and his family,” he adds with that tone of frustration and sadness that he gets whenever he talks about a particularly brutal case. “You know,” he says, pausing briefly before going on, “your mom really liked the Nolan kids. Mack especially. Talked about him a lot. Said more than once that she’d hope you’d grow up to be like him.”

  “Really?” Caleb asks softly, tears spilling freely from his eyes.

  “Really, son. She’d be over the moon that you two are together.” Caleb had been thinking as much, but it means everything to hear it from his dad.

  “Thanks, dad.”

  “Love you, kid. See you soon.”

  When he hangs up the phone, Mack is there, strong arms circling his waist as he kisses the back of his neck. He smells like spices and tomato sauce and home and love, and Caleb relaxes back into to the heat of his chest, letting Mack hold him up.

  It’s almost time to sit down to dinner when Caleb steps outside to the front porch, wanting a break from the chaos of a
house full of werewolves. He’s enjoying himself, feeling more and more at home with Mack’s pack all the time, but he’s had an emotionally exhausting day and needs a bit of a breather before sitting down to eat.

  He’s not outside long before Maribel joins him, sidling up next to him silently where he’s leaning against the deck railing, again watching the sunset.

  She doesn’t say anything for a minute, her eyes, so much like Mack’s, studying him closely. He looks away, over the water, letting her make her assessment. Caleb wonders what she sees when she looks at him – her brother’s boyfriend? Her alpha’s mate? Some weird kid who’s cast a spell on Mack? Another asshole trying to manipulate him out of malice and hatred?

  “You know,” Maribel says finally, thoughtfully. “We had to share a car in high school. Our mom’s old ’69 Camaro. Gorgeous car. Mack still has it, here in the garage. You should have him show it to you sometime. Anyways, we bickered about it a lot, but managed to make it work. We had a lot of the same friends so we were almost always going to the same place anyways. Except for when he started going to school early, to geek out about science fiction with Ms. cavanaugh, the nerd.” She smiles, and her eyes crinkle a bit at the corners just like Mack’s. “I used to bitch and moan about having to get up early. Turns out it saved us. She saved us.”

  It still overwhelms him to think about his mother’s friendship with Mack and how it saved him and Maribel, and the look of gratitude and wonder in her eyes pushes him over the edge, tears blurring his vision. “Yeah, I guess she did.” He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, sniffling slightly.

  He feels a slight tug under his ribs and the hair on the back his neck stands, warm, gentle comfort flooding through him. Mack, sensing his distress. Caleb smiles, expecting to see Mack come to check on him any moment. This mate thing is pretty cool.

  “You look like her,” Maribel says quietly. “You have her eyes. You’re a lot like her, actually. What I remember of her, you know.” She shrugs, like she’s suddenly uncomfortable.

  “Thank you,” Caleb says softly, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her into a sideways hug. She wraps her arms around his waist and holds on tight, squeezing him with her crazy werewolf strength before loosening her grip so he can continue breathing.

  “I’m so happy he found you,” she whispers against his chest.

  Late that night, after everyone has gone home, Mack grabs a pile of blankets from a hall closet and leads Caleb outside to the beach in front of the house. He lays one blanket out and uses the other to cover them as he tucks Caleb in close, resting his head on his chest so they’re both looking up at the stars.

  “Meteor shower tonight,” Mack explains. Caleb appreciates the romance – he really, truly, does – but he’s he thrilled just to be touching Mack. Shooting stars are just window dressing.

  Mack spots three meteors before Caleb spots one, and then he just gives up and lets Mack point them all out. After awhile he gets up the courage to ask him the question he’s been thinking about since he talked to his dad this afternoon.

  “Mack, will you go back to Lighthouse Cove with me for my dad and Ramona’s wedding? I know you haven’t been back since the fire, and I understand if you don’t want to.”

  Mack is quiet for a moment before he answers. “I’ve been thinking about it. I even talked to Maribel about it." He pauses and takes a deep breath before going on. “It scares me, going back. But I think it might be good for me. And I want to be there for you, be there to celebrate with you and see your dad again. And meet all of your friends and family. So yes, Caleb, I’ll go with you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Mack grabs his hand tightly, like it’s a lifeline. “I’m sure. Let’s go home.”

  14

  They’re snuggled in the small cabin of the boat, Caleb’s socked feet resting in Mack’s lap. It’s Boyd’s boat, Mack explained as he loaded Caleb with sweaters and blankets and a thermos of coffee before unceremoniously hauling him onto the thing. “One of the perks of being the alpha,” he joked. “Their stuff is my stuff.

  Mack laughs more easily now; his glare is less sharp, his stiff demeanor softening bit by bit, the walls he’s been building for so long steadily crumbling as the mate bond between them grows ever stronger. Last week, Maribel told Caleb that she’s starting to see the Mack from before the fire, the cocky-but-friendly kid who cried every time he watched A League of Their Own and who punched one of her high school boyfriends for calling her a bitch, and then apologized and gave him a lecture on feminism. The kid who led the Lighthouse Cove baseball team to two state championships and also started the school’s first art club.

  The Mack his mom knew.

  They’ve been on the water for almost two hours and Mack still won’t tell him what they’re doing or where they’re going. He’s just been smiling softly as he pilots the boat, pointing out different geographical features of the archipelago of islands scattered in the Puget Sound while Caleb chatters on, fingers playing with the seasickness wrist bands Mack gave him. It’s early evening, so overcast it feels almost dark already, the water shining like polished obsidian. He watches Mack, feeling his mellow contentment settle around his heart, pushing his own back to him.

  As they glide along the water, Caleb ponders a question that he’s been turning over in his head for almost two months now, since he and Mack sealed the mate bond. And enthusiastically continue to seal it, he thinks with a grin, still feeling the tender, pleasing ache from the previous night’s adventure, riding Mack’s knot for nearly an hour. He hasn’t asked yet because he’s not sure what he wants the answer to be, but their rapidly approaching trip to Lighthouse Cove has him thinking more and more about the idea of forever with Mack and what exactly that might mean for his status as human.

  “Do you want to bite me?" He asks, finally.

  “Always,” Mack answers with a wink. Caleb reaches for his hand and unhooks the thumbhole sleeve of Mack’s favorite sweater so he can lick the elegant script tattooed on his knuckles. One of Caleb’ new favorite pastimes is memorizing Mack’s tattoos with his tongue. The art on his hand is Maribel’s handiwork, lupu vir – Latin for the wolf is the man – and a delicate wolf paw arcing around his thumb.

  “You know what I mean,” he laughs, sinking his teeth into the mound of Mack’s thumb. “Do you want me to turn me? Make me your mate for real.”

  “What do you mean ‘for real’?” Mack’s brow furrows in confusion. “You are my mate for real. Did you miss all the knotting? I could show you again, if you’ve forgotten.” His devious smirk is a sight to behold.

  “I’m serious,” Caleb replies, mostly failing in his attempt to be stern and admonishing. “You’re like, superwolf right? As an alpha don’t you want your mate to be a wolf too?” Caleb hadn’t realized just how worried he’s been about this until now. Despite his confidence in Mack’s feelings for him, he can’t help but wonder – in more ways than in one – if he’s not enough for him, because Mack is figuratively and literally magical, and Caleb is just a plain old hyperactive, lanky, sarcastic human.

  “I want my mate to be you, just the way you are.” Mack’s completely serious now, hand squeezing his thigh.

  “But you’re an alpha.”

  “Why does that matter?”

  “You’re like, I don’t know, the most special of the special creatures. It seems like you should have a mate who's just as special as you.” The word special seems pitifully inadequate to fully express just how astonishingly awe-inducing Mack is, even before when Caleb didn't know he was a werewolf, and it seems almost meaningless now, especially with the way he’s looking at him, eyes almost blue in the ocean’s twilight.

  Mack opens his mouth to say something, then closes it quickly, continuing to look him over instead. “Do you know what my mom told me when I told her about you? About the dream, I mean, when I told her I saw a fox instead of a wolf?”

  “I didn’t know that you told her.” It makes him happy to k
now that Mack shared the dream with his mother too, and for not the first time, Caleb wishes he could have known Miranda Nolan.

  “I told both of my parents. They were mates. They shared dreams for almost twenty years before they met. My mom said that seeing an animal other than a wolf in the mate dream likely meant that I was just seeing his spirit, and that meant that he was human. An incredibly special human. It’s rare, for humans and wolves to be mates, that’s true, but it’s because most humans don’t have the strength, or the character, to be paired with a wolf. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re kind of a lot to deal with.” Mack smiles again, leaning over to kiss him, teeth pulling softly on his bottom lip when he pulls away. “You may not be a werewolf, Caleb, but you’re extraordinary. You’re everything I want.” It’s a rushed whisper against his cheek, quiet but urgent.

  “Oh,” Caleb says, a little dazed as the hot flood of their feelings swirls in his chest. He pulls Mack in for another kiss, reaching up to stroke his beard and bring him closer, delighting in how Mack’s mouth makes him feel stripped bare in the very best way.

  “Do you want me to bite you?” Mack asks against his neck after he’s broken the kiss. He sits back up and returns his attention to navigating the boat, slowing the engine.

  “I don’t think so. I mean, part of me wonders what it would be like, you know. Of course, who wouldn’t? But…I like being human.”

  “I like you human, too. But if you ever decide that it’s something you want, I’ll do it for you. And I’ll still love you.”

  “Best mate ever.”

  “You know, if I were to bite you,” Mack goes on thoughtfully, “you might not turn into a werewolf. Actually, I’m pretty sure you’d be a fox.”

  “A werefox? Is that a thing?”