“Bonded,” I said, finally, the word landing strange in my own mouth after all that build-up.
“We’re— we’re bonded, Mum.
It happened a few days ago.
There’s a ceremony Saturday to make it official, in front of the whole pack, and I should’ve told you about all of this before now.
I’m sorry I didn’t.” Silence again, longer this time, and I said, “Mum?” “I’m here.
I’m just—” A wet sound, like she was wiping her face with the back of her hand.
“Give me a second, love.” “Take your time.” “Right.” A shaky breath, then another, steadier one.
“Okay.
Werewolf.
Does that— does that mean you actually turn into one?
A wolf, properly, on all fours?” “Yeah.
During a full moon mostly, but I can do it other times too now, once I’ve had more practice.” “Does it hurt?” “First time, yeah, a bit.
Now it’s more just…
weird.
Like cracking your knuckles, but your whole skeleton.” “That’s a horrible way to describe it to your mother, Nico.” “You asked.” “I didn’t ask for the skeleton bit specifically.” “You asked how it felt.
That’s how it feels.” “Fine.
Noted.
Filed under things I didn’t need to know in that much detail.” “I did ask, didn’t I?
Right.
Okay.” Another pause, shorter this time, the information apparently getting filed away, probably to be revisited later.
“Is he— is he good to you?
That’s the only thing I actually need to know right now.” “Yeah.
He is.
He’s—” I tried to think how to explain Damjan in one sentence and gave up halfway through.
“He’s— he’s complicated, and he’s working on it, but yeah.
He’s good to me.” “Complicated how?” “He’s the captain of the club.
Older than me, properly intense about everything, control freak in basically every sense of the word, and also the gentlest person I’ve ever met when it actually counts.
It doesn’t make a lot of sense even to me, half the time.” “That sounds like every man I’ve ever loved, if I’m honest.” “Mum.” “I’m just saying.
Doesn’t mean it’s wrong.” “He’s— he’s good for me, Mum.
He really is.
He’s just bad at showing it sometimes, in ways that have got nothing to do with me and everything to do with stuff that happened to him before I ever turned up.” “That’s true of most people worth keeping around, in my experience.” “That’s a much longer conversation than I’ve got time for before training starts again.” “Nico.” “I— I promise I’ll tell you everything, just not all of it today, okay?
I’ve used my whole emotional budget on the werewolf thing.” “A— a ceremony,” she said.
“Saturday.
As in 3 days from now, Saturday?” “Yeah.” “And I’m only finding out about any of this today?” “I know, I’m sorry, it’s honestly been—” I caught myself right before the word again.
“It’s been a lot, all of it, and I didn’t know how to call you about any single piece without it turning into this entire conversation.” “This— this entire conversation was always going to happen eventually, love.
You can’t just skip your own life and tell me about it after.” I didn’t have anything to say to that, mostly because she was right, and I’d never been great at admitting when she was right while it was actually happening.
“Can I— can I come?” she asked.
“To the ceremony, I mean?” I hadn’t even thought about that, hadn’t considered whether humans were allowed anywhere near a pack ceremony at all, let alone whether she specifically would be safe standing in a room with 300 wolves who’d never met one before.
“I don’t actually know if you’re allowed,” I admitted.
“I don’t know the rules yet.” “Find out.
I’m not— I’m not asking for a front row seat, Nico, I just want to see my son get married, or claimed, or bonded, whatever the proper word is.
I’ll stand at the back if I have to.” “It’s not really a wedding.” “It’s— it’s close enough that I want to be there.” “There’s a whole pack hierarchy thing involved too, apparently.
Alphas, betas, omegas, all of it.
I’m still working out where I fit into any of it myself.” “And where do you fit?” “Omega.
Same as everything else this week, apparently.
Last to know.” “Well.
You’ll work it out.
You always do, eventually, even when you take the longest possible route to get there.” “Thanks, I think.” “I’ll— I’ll find out and call you back, yeah?
Today.
I promise.” “You’d better.” “I will.” “And Nico—” her voice cracked a little on my name, “—I love you.
Whatever you— whatever you are.
Wolf, man, bonded to your captain, all of it.
I love you exactly the same as I did yesterday.” That hit low in my chest, deeper than anything Henrik or Gregor or any of the political stuff had managed to reach all week.
“Are you— are you happy?” she asked, before I could say anything else.
“Forget the wolves and the ceremony and all of it.
Just, are you happy, with him, right now, today?” I thought about the kitchen, the kettle, him crying into my shoulder and pretending afterward that he hadn’t.
“Yeah,” I said.
“I actually am.” “Good.
That’s all I needed to know, really.
Everything else is just logistics.” “I’m proud of you,” she added, before I could say anything back.
“I don’t even fully understand what I’m proud of yet, but I am.” “You don’t have to say that.” “I’m not saying it because I have to.
I’m saying it because it’s true, and you clearly need to hear it today of all days.” “Love you too, Mum.
I’ll call you tonight.” “You’d better do that as well.
And eat something, you sound knackered.” “I’m always knackered, Mum, that’s just training.” “Eat something anyway.” I hung up a few minutes later, both of us wrung out and neither of us quite ready to be done with the conversation, and sat there in the equipment shed working out who I was actually meant to ask about whether my own mother could legally stand in a room full of werewolves.
Henrik, probably, or Damjan, or possibly both, given how well those two had handled every other piece of logistics this week, and how badly I wanted an excuse to hear his voice again after a morning that had felt about 4 days long already.
I sat on the equipment bench a minute longer than I needed to, the phone heavy in my hand, trying out every version of the question that didn’t land as an accusation.
It wasn’t his fault humans probably weren’t allowed at these things.
It wasn’t anyone’s fault, really, except maybe whoever wrote the rules 11 years ago and never updated them for anyone in my exact situation.
I pulled my phone back out, found his name, and typed one line before I could lose my nerve.
can humans come to the ceremony, my mum wants to be there The reply came back faster than I expected, three words that told me absolutely nothing and everything at once.
We need to talk.