“Then I would have stolen the comforter and pillow from that room, and I would have come back here and slept on your doorstep.”
Tears burned at the corners of my eyes. I shook my head. “You can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious. Without the dead part. I’d do my best not to freeze to death.”
Was I laughing or crying? It didn’t matter, because Misha pulled me into his arms and kissed the top of my head. “Even in our conversation back there at your Da’s house when I was being a dumbass, I said ‘Mate trumps all,’ and I meant it. You’re it, Rory. I know I only get one of you. Honestly, I don’t think I’d wish for more of you if I could. You’re kind of bossy.”
I poked a finger in his ribs and he just held me closer. “You’re still cold,” I grumbled. I sat up. “Let me get you a blanket.”
Misha was faster than me, on his feet before I could unfold my body. “Nope, let me get it. Probably take me longer because I’m going to snoop around your house while I find blankets and shit, but you just sit tight. The snooping will warm me up faster.”
He had to have been joking about the snooping, because he quickly returned with pillows, blankets, and a bottle of Jameson. “Do you have a secret drinking problem I should know about? Not many folks keep a bottle of whiskey next to their bed.”
“I don’t think my family’s alcohol issues are any secret. I’m fairly certain Patrick has a Jameson bed set with whiskey barrel side tables in his bedroom. But no, it’s just an O’Malley tradition, or a superstition if you like. A bottle of whiskey near where you sleep captures the bad dreams and burns them away.”
“Huh. Like an Irish dreamcatcher? You sure it’s not just because when you have a bad dream, it’s easy to reach over and chase it away with a shot or two?”
I shrugged. “Kind of the same thing, isn’t it?”
Misha tucked the blanket and pillows around me, and I held the blanket up for him to join me.
“Just a minute.” He disappeared to grab a couple glasses, poured barely a finger in each, and then finally joined me. It was so strange to let someone else take care of me for once. To sit still and watch while someone anticipated my needs, rather than sitting behind a desk, initiating orders.
I took my glass and Misha held his up in a toast. “To us. Figuring shit out as we go along.”
“To us.” The whiskey burned pleasantly, but it wasn’t as warm and as pleasant as the press of Misha’s body against mine as he snuggled up with me on the couch.
“Hey, Rory?”
“Yeah?”
“Woof.”
I laughed. How could I help it with him? He’d made me laugh and giggle and snort more in the last few days than I had in the last few years. I imagined my future with him, and I saw a long line of days, full of smiles. There were children. There was love. I was terrified to believe it was possible, but it seemed inevitable with him here beside me.
“Hey, Misha?”
“Yeah?”
“Baaa.”
10
Misha
It took all week to convince the O'Malleys that Seamus wasn't up to hosting a party. The dragon tears had healed him but it was taking time to regain his full strength. Rory had been concerned enough to send a note to the Chen Triad to see if this was normal. It wasn't like we could see a regular shifter doctor about it, so we really didn't know what to expect.
Another one of those fancy sealed notes had arrived the same day. After a long flowery apology for not having properly explained how it worked, we finally had our answer. Seamus needed the magic of a full moon for his fox to completely heal. Since the full moon was a week away, Pops had stepped in and solved the whole thing.
My family would host the party and all the stress that went with it. Plus, it wasn't like we didn't have the room to entertain both families. Rory had grudgingly decided it would be safe enough for his father to attend.
There may or may not have been a blow job involved when he'd agreed. It was amazing how his guards came down during an orgasm.
Or maybe not that amazing. After all, orgasms are awesome.
Now we were here, and my entire family had the opportunity to meet my mate, at last. Even Cyrus and his family had come. I knew my new O'Malley relatives were going to give me hell later for having a badge for a brother, but Cy was worth it. The years when he'd ghosted our family had been hard on all of us.
Having him back was everything. It was a careful peace we'd established. As long as we kept it about family and didn't do any business in his presence, Cy made a point to stay involved in our lives. Totally worth the trade-off. Especially when I saw how Pop's face lit up whenever Cy was around. His too-cute mate Leaf and the grandbabies didn't hurt either.
My brothers thought it was about the grandbabies, but I knew better. Pops had missed Cyrus so much. He hadn't been the same during the years of separation. I remember hearing him say once that losing his son was like having a missing limb. So yeah… I was glad to have my brother back in my life. But more than anything, I was happy for Pops.
I chuckled into my drink as I took a sip. It would be interesting to hear what Cy had to say when he found out I wouldn't be working for our family anymore as of tomorrow. I figured I would give him about thirty seconds to enjoy thinking I was “going straight” before I told him about my new position in the O'Malley family.
Same job, same pay. And I'd still be working for my family—just not the one I’d been born to. Rory was right when he'd stood up for himself. He was second to his father and the next in line to run his family one day. I would’ve had to kick my own ass before asking him to step away from that. At the time of our misunderstanding, I'd been too caught up in everything that had happened to think it through.
Thank fuck my mate had no problems talking things through and finding solutions. It wasn't like I was leaving my family anyway. Especially since Pops and Seamus were already scheming. I figured it was just a matter of time before we had some joint operations going. When Pops had agreed that my sideways step into working as an O'Malley enforcer was the best idea, I knew by the twinkle in his eye that he had plans.
That was fine with me. Peaceful coexistence and cooperation between our families meant that my brothers and I would never be at odds or have to choose. Fuck that Romeo and Juliet shit.
Rory came up and squeezed my hand, distracting me from my thoughts. "How have I lived my entire life and not known that Joey Novak—the hard-ass enforcer known around town for bashing skulls with brass knuckles—is also an omega? Respect. I should've known that your father is as open-minded as mine. How else could they possibly have stayed friends all these years? Still, it's nice to know you Russians are forward-thinking people."
I snorted, my eyes instantly watering from the burn of alcohol shooting through my nose. Rory slapped a palm between my shoulders. "Easy there, studley. Don't let my brothers see you choking to death on your vodka. They would literally carve some shit on your tombstone like 'this is what happens when you don't drink whiskey' or 'here lies a man who couldn't hold his alcohol.' You know, shit like that."