Sacrificed Soul

Chapter Thirteen

"Puh-leaase Aunt Leanne!" I don't think I'll ever not love being an aunt. As long as it's not me passing along the Fenris blood-line, I'm happy to be surrounded by the pups of the family. Specifically, my niece and nephews.

As it is, though, I'm exhausted and standing in the soon to be empty living room just desperate to get my claws into my new home. Pep though, the oldest of Lori's pups, has her deceptively strong fingers wrapped in my belt from the side. She's on her knees, yanking and begging along with her siblings as they ask for me to stretch into fur for them. Skunk, the youngest with a nickname earned during an unfortunate accident, promptly flips out of their clothes and shifts into a tawny puppy the same teak color as his father.

"I just... Not tonight, guys. I'm sorry," I say as I try to peel Pep's fingers off my belt. She's just about managing to pull the much restrictive waist of my pants down. I turn for help from any of the adults sitting on the couch, but they only watch with knowing smiles. I'm on my own here.

"But I've heard she's huge! Please Auntie! Please! Oof!" Step cries, but he's knocked over by his brother's second soul.

"Alright," Lori says as she thumps down the stairs, "That's enough! It's way past bed time you little mongrels."

Her mate is right behind her. Together, they manage to not only kiss me on the temple in good night, but also herd their whining children away from me. Lori, who must have a lot of experience prying little finger off of things they don't belong to, makes quick work of peeling Pep away from me. It looks a lot like what I would expect herding cats would be like.

"The pack run is next week, Rebecca," My sister says, the authority of using a first name slouching across Pep's shoulders, "You'll see her then. Now come on, it's almost midnight and you guys have school tomorrow. There'll be no whining in the morning when I have to wake you up!"

The crying and stomping feet recedes up the stairs and behind a wall hidden hallway I can only vaguely picture. Someone clears their throat, and I turn back to where Maureen, Larry, Mammy, and Aunt Marsha wait for me.

Aunt Marsha beckons me over with both hands outstretched and waving, so I follow the command and sit besides her on the comfortable love seat that smells like family. Bracing my elbows on my legs and intertwining my fingers, I feel her arm wrap around me from behind as she scoots herself closer. She's just about pasted to my side, her chin landing to rest on my shoulder.

This. This is what I've never known that I'd missed. The quiet, simple touch of pack. This simple touch from family my bones and blood knows as their own, it's a thousand times more calming. I remember Dodger complaining about how often I had sex, miserable when the other shifter NCOs encouraged it amongst us as a form of stress relief. I like to think that drowning ourselves in lustful pheromones was better than alchohol, something I'd only touched once but vigorously refused any time after.

It had haunted me, that burning taste on the tip of my tongue. A part of me knows that had my Honey-girl not been so incapacitated that night, she would still be here.

I look over to Mammy. She's fidgeted until her hands reaches far enough that she can tilt the foot rest down and rest her fuzzy, pink slippered feet down. There is no hint of the remorse from earlier in the night, only a matriarch that is ready to ask questions she expects answers to.

"Alpha Siobhan dame over for a visit while you were dropping food on the floor. She said something interesting," she says.

"You're really not going to stay? Here? With us?" Aunt Marsha asks into my throat.

Maureen and Larry sit entirely still, watching and waiting. For what, I'm not sure.

"I spoke with Alan McFurly," this earns a snort of disgust, so I add, "And his wolf," which is met with stark interest, "They both think it's a good idea. I guess his grandfather was a veteran and went there often when he was struggling with his PTSD."