Page 49 of Broken Bonds
“I did. And I was very careful and promised him it wouldn’t hurt my feelings if he asked me not to. He said he wanted me to participate, but reserved the right to ask me to stop if he needed me to. Obviously, I agreed. But he didn’t need me to stop. Now? He’s one of my best friends, and he’s also a science teacher at our little pack school for our kids who don’t attend public school. He’s the kids’ favorite teacher.”
He smiles. “And he’s single, but even though he’s ace, sometimes he wants to get fucked. Not just fucked, but a full-on pounding rut from me. In those cases, he calls me and asks if he can come over for playtime.” His smile widens to a grin. “That’s about three or four weekends a year. I clear my calendar, ask my farm hands to work overtime—paid, obviously—and stock up on groceries so we don’t have to leave the house. The rest of the time we’re buddies and hang out.”
“So what you’re telling me is not to panic?”
He laughs. “Exactly! Just be yourself. I know you’re nervous, and so will everyone else. Because unless they were born into the pack, they literally know what you’re going through.”
“If this is too personal to ask, tell me, but… Um… If he’s…”
Todd laughs again. “Asexual? I wondered the same thing. He explains it that being ace is like being autistic; it’s different for everyone. There are different aspects of it depending on what kind of asexual someone is. He has a few cuddle buddies, including me, who we all know sometimes he just wants a companion and not sex. He’s not sex-repulsed. Hell, sometimes if some of us are getting together to literally fuck around, he’ll come over, too, but he’ll stay dressed and snuggle with guys who are exhausted and come-drunk and fucked out and ready for aftercare. He enjoys watching others.
“But every once in a while he wants sex, and not just masturbating. And one of the things he learned during his initiation, ironically, is that he loved how I fucked him, and he feels safe with me because he knows I mean it when I say I’ll stop if he asks. Not that he thinks any of the other guys wouldn’t, but we connected on that level, you know? Now I’m his go-to call when he wants to get fucked, and he doesn’t have to feel guilty that I’m not getting what I need from him in a larger relationship dynamic structure. Because not to sound like an egotistical asshole, I have a whole phone full of fuck buddies who would cage-match-fight each other to ride my cock if I sent out a group text asking for volunteers. It’s a win-win for both of us.”
“What happens if you meet a mate?”
“They’ll have to understand I won’t give Sam up in that way. There are people in our pack who are monogamous, not counting when they participate in initiations, because none of us count that. And some of us are absolute sluts.”
Another grin. “That’d be guys like me. And some of those are partnered and some are single. Then there are people who, like Sam, might only have a couple of people they fuck around with, either alone or with their partner, if they have one. Jax and Shawn sort of fit into that category. And then sometimes if people mate, they might nest together for a while without playing with anyone else, and then eventually start opening up again. We don’t judge people. The only time we judge someone,” he adds, his expression and tone darkening, “is if they violate someone’s consent or fuck around with a kid.”
I shudder. “Has anyone ever done that?”
He nods. “Before Jax took over, but after we were both adults. Once, a guy who was initiated into the pack went after a girl who was only fifteen. She was not willing, either. Another time, a beta wolf joined, and even though he didn’t have a mate bond with one of the omega guys, he decided that guy was going to be his, and he tried to fuck him into submission.”
“What happened to them?” I ask.
“The Ocala Pack happened to them,” he says. “And those two never happened to anyone else, ever again. For any reason.” He takes a swallow of beer. “No one will ever find those bodies, either. We made sure of it.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Mal
First Steps Forward
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to that revelation so I choose the wisest course and say absolutely zilch.
I know that shifter justice is a thing—right or wrong—and I’m certain my father has taken people out.
Probably for lesser and more personal slights than trying to rape or molest people, because my father is a petty fucking bitch.
I don’t stay late talking with Todd because we both need to get up early. Still, I feel a twinge of regret that I have to say goodnight and head back to my little apartment.
My home.
For now, anyway.
And truly, it already feels like home to me. I feel wanted here, which might sound weird considering I barely know these people.
Other than rare instances when alone with Mom, I already feel more like I belong with this pack than I ever did growing up in my family.
And how sad is it that those instances with Mom, my father was nowhere around when they happened.
Like she’s as afraid of him as everyone else is.
I mean, there’s no like about it—she is afraid of him.
My one regret is she couldn’t come with me. Even if I ever earn the resources to support her and spirit her away, I suspect my father would relentlessly chase her and drag her home over the principle of the matter, not because he loves her.
And divorce? Forget that. A divorce would tarnish Randolph Sterling’s reputation, especially when he’s trying to raise his public profile as he runs for office.
