The Mating (Black on Black, #1)

by BJ Cunningham

  Clinging to him she tried not to let tears fall, but the relief of having him hold her and work his magic that never failed to make her feel like she had this, no matter how screwed up the situation, turned her back into the cub that needed him. She doubted that would ever change. She’d never done anything the safe or easy way. But he never gave up on her. She didn’t understand why but was damn thankful it was true. Biting her lip, she closed her eyes and buried her face in his hair. “I love you, Pops.”

  He didn’t know how long they stayed like that. Rubbing her back, he kissed the top of her head. “I love you too, Munchkin.” Rocking her, he saw that she had cried herself to sleep just like when she was a cub. Lifting her up, he carried her to her room and laid her down, his brows raising at the two cubs that curled against her as soon as she was in the bed. Ghosting a quilt over them, he stood over the bed watching her for a moment. “Sleep well, Munchkin.”

  Leaving her room, he thought about the party still going on in the club and couldn’t bring himself to return to it, so he went to bed himself. Laying down, he hoped she would still be there for breakfast, just the two of them. It wasn’t likely on either count, but a father could dream.

  CHAPTER 11

  Jared appeared at the address Zev gave him. Pulling out his phone, he shot him a quick text and waited for instructions. He looked up at the house. It was a two story Victorian style home that had been neglected and empty for a while. The green and black paint was peeling, showing glimpses of the silvered clapboards beneath. The front steps seemed solid enough, leading to a questionable porch that ran along the front. He wasn’t sure that it would hold his weight. Images of himself standing waist deep in a hole of broken planks ghosted through his head. Jared’s phone went off as he was studying the place.

  He looked down to read Zev’s message. [Keys are in the mailbox. When you get inside, there is a box on the table. Inside you’ll see a watch. Put it on. It’ll mask your scent and help amp your powers. You’ll need it, Panther. I left out a little piece of intel. Zander always travels with three ligers the Winston triplets. The Slayer and his gang will be at the address in the box. Don’t go to your parents. It’ll be a dead giveaway. I’ll be in touch. –Z.]

  Rage boiled in Jared as he read the text. Gravel crunched under his boots as he backtracked down the short drive to get the key from the gaping fish mouth of the novelty mailbox. Jared retraced his steps and snorted when he made it across the porch without falling through. Turning the key in the lock, he pushed open the door and stepped inside to look around. It had two living rooms, and the staircase was close to the front door. It was an airy open space concept renovation that wasn’t finished. Stepping around the lumber and drywall sheets leaned against some exposed studs, Jared made his way through the first living room and turned to his right, seeing a hallway that led to the dining room. Leave it to Zev to put him up in a dump. Did the water even fucking work?

  In the center of the room, on the stripped down floorboards, sat a rough table made of planks with a pristine hinged red box that read Cartier in gold script. It was so out of place here that Jared laughed. “Lovely.” Shaking his head, he opened the lid and eyed the watch. It didn’t look like anything special. Heavy, gold and seemingly harmless. Just a typical, run of the mill watch, with a Roman numeral face and a stretchy band. Pulling it over his hand, he growled when something stabbed into his wrist. He dropped his bag. His body felt like it was on fire, as the pain shot through him.

  ‘Oh I forgot to tell you, it’s gonna hurt like a motherfucker.’ Zev linked as Jared bit back a scream of pain. ‘Don’t worry Cat, it’ll be over in a moment. Don’t get your tail in a knot.’

  Finally, the pain faded, or he got used to it. Jared wobbled and leaned forward, taking hold of the table in front of him. He felt weird. Closing his eyes, he noticed that Zev had told the truth. His hearing was more intense. When he opened his eyes, everything else was more vivid. Blinking for a moment, Jared ghosted shades over his eyes. ‘You’re a dickhead,’ he linked Z.

  ‘I know, and I’m okay with it.’ Zev linked back. ‘The address is a pub in town. Off the side of this house, there is a small shed. In it, you’ll find a Land Rover. Use that to get around. When you see the Liger and his buddies, I want you to watch them. Nothing more,’ he said before cutting the link.

  Jared shook his head, grabbed his bag from the floor and lifted it onto the table. Unzipping it, he pulled out a taser and laid it on the planks. Taking off his jacket, he pulled a leather one from the bag and slipped it on. He slid the taser inside and added a set of daggers. He then took a necklace from the bag, put it on and dropped it under his shirt. He pulled a few more things from the bag and put them in the hidden pockets of the jacket.

  A cold smirk covered Jared’s face as his hand touched the necklace. It had been a while since he’d use any of this. He reached down to zip the bag when he realized that he’d forgotten the garrote made of titanium and silver. He’d had it made for him years ago. Slipping that on too, he closed the bag, picked up the address scrawled on a folded piece of paper inside the box, and then headed outside to the shed.

  He found the LandRover quickly and the keys were in the glove box. Having left the double doors open, he drove out and used his powers to close them behind him. Jared followed the dusty road to the pub, noting the landmarks that hadn’t changed much since he’d been here last. It had been too many years and so much had happened since he’d left. Memories played through Jared's head as he drove. He couldn’t wait to build new ones with the twins, Daniel, and Serra. All he had to do was live through this, and he could make it happen.

  Two cubs pouncing on your head, biting and pulling at your ears and whiskers had a way of waking even the soundest of sleepers and Serra was not exempt. Purring, she cracked one eyelid watching as they both froze and began to yowl. Hungry again. She swore they were like tiny little Dysons with twin bottomless pits attached. Rolling her shoulders, she butted her black head against theirs, knocking them over on the pillow. She mindlinked with them, “Just give me a few minutes to remember my name guys. Then we eat.” Serra took the pouncing on her face as a yes, albeit an impatient one.

  Lifting her head, she glanced around the room, the corners of her mouth hitching up in as much of a grin as possible when Panther. She’d missed being home. Seeing her favorite things, brought back memories of times when she’d thought life was complicated. So many groundings and lectures about how her behavior was going to come back to haunt her in the future. She snorted at how ridiculous she’d been.

  Familiar scents soothed her, and she knew that nothing could hurt her inside the house, or would face her father’s wrath? Damn if that didn’t make her feel all warm and fuzzy. She snickered and stretched before slinking off the bed, pausing long enough for the Cubs to climb down. Now she had to create that same feeling of safety and unconditional love for Justice and Theo. Even after Jared came back, knock on wood, that reality didn’t change, and it was a responsibility she took seriously. She hoped to hell that she didn’t screw it up.

  Lifting her head and sniffing the air, Serra collected the scents of family and guests that had stayed over after Pop’s annual New Year’s Eve blowout. No one stirred. She was the first up. After one of Pop’s parties, there were only two rules. One, don’t eat a guest, even if they annoy you. Two, first one up, cooks breakfast. Yanking her tail out of Theo’s mouth with a soft growl, she padded to the kitchen and shifted, ghosted on ‘it’s too damn early to give a shit what I look like’ clothes and began pulling the breakfast fixings from the fridge. She took care of the Cubs first and then moved on to brewing coffee. Pulling a skillet from its place, she started cooking the only thing that would do after a night of hard drinking, a good old fashioned, greasy breakfast.

  Damion woke up to the sound of yowling Cubs and growled. What the fuck? Rolling over to look at the clock he repeated the noise. Six mother fucking a.m. on New Year’s Day. Heads were going to roll, even if they were tin
y cub heads. Falling onto his back, he glared up at the ceiling and rubbed the grit from his eyes roughly with the heels of his hands and tried to ignore the pounding of his temples. He sighed his relief when the noise stopped and sighed harder when it started up again, only louder. He glanced at Monica’s side of the bed. Empty. If his mate were home, he’d wrap himself around her and go back to sleep, but she wasn’t, so there was no point staying here, not that the racket going on outside his room would allow him to go back to sleep anyway.

  Dangling an arm over the side of the bed, his hand groped around, coming back with last night’s black wife beater and slacks. He blinked at them and shook his head before he rolled up and began pulling them on before dropping his bare feet to the carpet and going to see who dared break the most important house rule, ‘Do not wake Damion unless you have a death wish.’

  He zombie shuffled down the hall, following the scent of freshly brewed coffee and picking the hard bits of sleep grit from the corners of his eyes. Something sharp bit into his ankle. Damion’s brow arched. He looked down and blinked. Two pairs of gray eyes in tiny furry black faces stared up at him, daring him to punt them. He considered it and then he remembered seeing two cubs in Serra’s bed last night before he’d given up on tossing and turning and returned to the party. “The fuck?” He mumbled. Or it was what he meant to say, but it came out as, "Gruzz?"

  Squatting down, he picked them up and continued to the open kitchen, spotting his daughter sitting on the couch near the big picture window, clutching a mug in her hands and staring at nothing like no one was home. She looked like he felt. In rough shape. He grunted a growl meant to be a good morning.

  Serra blinked her eyes and rubbed at them with her fingers. She would turn on the television, but she couldn’t find the remote and the thought of searching for it made her head hurt. Yawning, she glanced up as Damion appeared and did a fun combo of growl-talk. “Sorry.” She stretched, turning her head until her neck popped back into alignment and groaned. Pointing with an uncoordinated arm, she kept her conversation to single words, because that’s all she had, right now. “Coffee.”

  He nodded and shuffled to the coffee maker, staring at it and then looked down at the cubs in his hands. Shaking his head, he shot his daughter a look of what the fuck over his shoulder and lowered them to the floor when they began to squirm. He watched them bolt for Serra. Shaking his head again, he found his mixing bowl sized mug in the dishwasher and filled it almost to the brim. Carrying it with both hands, he fell into a chair at the table, pouring sugar into his cup before tasting it. Rubbing his eyes again, he looked at his daughter and the Cubs. “Yours?” His voice was a rough growl this time, but it sounded like what he was trying to say.

  Shrugging from her perch on the couch, Serra blew across the steaming mug before taking another sip. “Jared’s. He adopted.” Folding her legs under her when Justice decided that her toes were a chew toy, she smiled down at the black balls of fluff, growling and swatting at each other. “Couldn’t find a sitter, so I brought them with.”

  Damion grunted and sipped his coffee. “So you’re his nanny. Nice,” he grumbled and made a face, looking into his mug. He reached for the sugar and poured in more. “So where is he, your mate?” He tried to hide the growl in his voice. He didn’t like the male and trying to pretend that he wasn’t pissed that he was part of their family proved harder than Damion thought it would be.

  “Pops,” Serra sighed tiredly. “Just, don’t. Okay? I’m not the nanny. I’m their Momma now.” Grimacing at the amount of sugar Damion was using, she stared into her cup, seeing the bottom and knowing that empty was wrong. She needed to fix that. She didn’t move, waiting for her groggy head to fill in the how. Groaning she pushed herself to her feet and shuffled for a refill, cursing and hopping on one foot when she stubbed her toe on a chair. “Hungry? I cooked. It’s in the warmer.” She poured herself more coffee and sat at the table, dropping her head onto her folded arms. “Us being the first ones up? Just wrong.”

  He watched the Cubs for a moment, his brow arching at her words and taking him back to when his own were that small. He snorted and leaned down to push them back gently when one of them swatted at his pant leg. Glancing up, he saw that she was in worse shape than he was and laughed a little although he couldn’t help wondering how much was because of her new mate. “It was just a question, Munchkin. I just need caffeine to wake up. I think that I’m being attacked.”

  Serra lifted her head just enough to peer up at him, not buying his explanation. “Sure it was.” She groaned and pulled her feet up onto the seat of her chair. “They do that. To everything. All of the time.” Shaking her head, she let it fall again.

  “It’s not easy being a mom, is it?” He smirked over the rim of his mug.

  “It really isn’t.” She shook her head and spoke into the table before lifting her head to brace it on her palm, her elbow resting on the table.

  He leaned down, picked the male cub up and watched him swat at his hair. “And right at that age when they get into everything.” He cupped the cub’s face and shook playfully. “You’re as playful as mine were, you know that?”

  Smiling, she watched as Theo swatted and got his face squished. She nodded toward the cub in Damion’s hands. “Theo. He’s the shit disturber. Justice is the sweetheart. I think they are plotting against me. Might just be paranoid, though.”

  Damion continued looking at the cub as he spoke to her. “Try five, and you were the shit disturber, as you put it. Some days I’m surprised that Monica and I haven’t gone snow white from your shenanigans.” He smiled at her. “Somethings never change, eh Munchkin?” Theo yowled loudly and squirmed in Damion’s hands. He put him down, ghosted in another bowl of diced meat and watched both cubs bound for the bowl. “And like you and your siblings, they eat anything that doesn’t get away.”

  Wrinkling up her nose, Serra laughed. “Five? Not if you paid me.” Smirking, she remembered all of the times she’d been the cause of growls or head shaking. “Is it too late to apologize? I’m suddenly feeling guilty for putting you two through all of that.”

  Damion winked and finished his coffee. “No need. It can’t be easy to take on two, especially when they aren’t yours and their father is off gallivanting around doing gods know what.”

  “Pops,” she groaned a warning. “He had to help his parents with something. He didn’t just drop them on me and leave.” Reaching across the table, she took Damion’s mug and crossed the kitchen to refill it before sliding it back in front of him with a smile. “It is what it is, I guess. And after this, there won’t be any coming from me for a good long while. If you have a fantasy of hordes of grandcubs, let it go now. Gods forbid I have one, or more, like me.” She rolled her eyes and shuddered.

  He laughed as he took his mug. “At least two like you.”

  She snorted and shook her head. “That isn’t funny. What did I ever do to you?” Grimacing, she laughed. “Wait. Don’t answer that, I remember.” She sipped her coffee and poked Justice with her foot. “But you were never bored.”

  “You won’t be either. Though I wouldn’t trade any of you, for anything.” He saw that the Cubs were done eating and curled up under her feet. “Looks like you've been claimed.”

  Serra looked down and smiled at the brats. She did love the little fur balls already. “Yeah. I think I’ll keep them.” She chuckled because she didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter. “Lucky for me, I had a great role model to learn from. Hope to make you both proud.”

  “Serra, you always have. I couldn’t be more proud, even if your choice in men hasn’t changed much. Why is it that your mate is leaving you here when seeing his parents?” Damion’s temper flared, remembering what Jared had said to him. “If anyone should be ashamed of their mate...” He let his voice trail off at the look that she hit him with and took another drink of his coffee. “All I’m saying is that any male that is not proud to have my daughter as a mate, doesn’t deserve her. Father's bias.”<
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  Rolling her eyes and giving him a ‘really, you had to go there’ look, she sighed. If her father only knew. She pushed the hair back from her face and glared at him. “And you would be the first to tell him that he didn’t belong in the middle of personal family stuff. That’s all it is, Pops.” She shook her head and smirked. “He reminds me a lot of you.” She smiled at Kara when she padded into the kitchen, her blonde hair a mess and her sky blue eyes squinted against the light. “There’s food in the warmer if you’re hungry. Help yourself.”

  “Kara! How did you sleep, Darlin’? Did your lion make it to bed without getting his ass kicked last night?” Damion chuckled.

  Kara blinked at him and then located the mugs and pulled one down, not turning around until she’d had her first sip and inhaled the rich nutty aroma. “Like a log and Dane still has all of his parts.” She grinned, remembering what an ass he’d made of himself. “His pride may never recover, though.”

  Shaking her head, Serra laughed. “I can only imagine.” She sipped her coffee and checked on the cubs sleeping under her chair, wishing that Jared was here.

  Damion pushed his chair back and got up to grab some bacon from the warmer. “Munchkin, be a dear and get the plates?” He moved the platters of food to the table, growling at the scents that made his stomach rumble. “Serra’s brown sugar bacon. Not even Monica’s compares.”

  Kara took a seat and grinned her thanks when Damion handed her a slice of the bacon that almost melted in her mouth. “Gods, that’s good. You should visit us in NOLA, Big Guy. No invite needed, just pop in.” She filled her plate and then did the same for the others.

  “Glad you like it. Karbear.” Serra’s stomach rumbled now that the food was in front of her. With a nod, she stepped over the Cubs to open a drawer and pulled out silverware and napkins. Placing them on the table, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her father’s neck from behind, dropping her chin onto his shoulder. “I’m going to take the hellions and let you two catch up. Love you Pops.” She kissed his cheek. “Always happy to see you, Kara.” She scooped up the sleeping cubs, prayed they stayed that way for a little while and balanced the plate on her forearm before she strolled back to her room. Serra wasn’t sure how Pops knew the Valkyrie, only that Mom didn’t like her much, and when she was growing up, Kara could be counted on to listen and give advice.