Page 77 of The Feral Alpha
Olson nodded, leaning into him. “What did you need help with?”
George gasped. “My cereal! It’s probably all soggy now. Mom says I have to finish it.”
Olson sighed. “I told you—”
“I know, I know!” George stood and hauled Olson to his feet. They both made it through the front door; Olson kicked off his shoes. George dragged him into the kitchen.
“Morning, Mr. and Mrs. Worster,” Olson said.
George’s parents smiled at him; George’s mom angled a look at George. “You can’t always depend on Olson to clean up your messes,” she said reprovingly. “Don’t take him for granted.”
“I’m not!” George said.
“But I’ll be there!” Olson protested.
Mom gave Olson a look, too. “That is why you shouldn’t let George push you around.”
“Hey,” George said. “I don’t push Olson around.”
Mom’s expression became even more serious. “One day, when you both present as alpha, beta, or omega, you’ll have to be careful. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Especially where bonding marks are concerned. Those are for life, you hear me?”
George looked at Mom’s wrists, where she wore Dad’s bonding marks. “Can I bond with Olson?”
Olson sucked in a sharp breath.
Mom frowned. “That’s a question for Olson to answer, but only when he’s much, much older. Bonding marks are permanent, George. I don’t want either of you to have regrets. So neither of you are going to answer that question right now. You’re too young.”
“I won’t regret it.” George puffed out his chest. “Olson is my best friend.”
“I won’t regret it, either,” Olson said shyly.
They exchanged a look, and George knew by the look in Olson’s eyes that Olson’s answer was yes.
“Still no,” Mom said firmly. “The promise will mean a lot more when you’re both older and you know exactly what you’re promising in a bonding mark.”
Even so, George didn’t like that he couldn’t claim Olson yet. He stared at the ring on Mom’s finger, and an idea struck him.
While Olson ate George’s leftover cereal, George sneaked away to look in the drawer of odds and ends.
He found a white twist-tie that was almost as good as new, with only a couple of kinks in it. He wrapped it around his own ring finger to make sure it fit.
Then he plucked it off, and hurried back to Olson. “I know what we can be,” George said. “If we can’t be bondmates yet.”
“What?” Olson had milk dripping down his chin.
Pleased that he’d found a loophole, George presented his ring with a flourish. “Will you marry me?”
Mom made a strangled sound.
Olson gasped. “Yes!”
George’s heart swelled. Olson stuck his hand out, and George hurried to put his twist-tie ring on Olson’s finger. It took a bit of fumbling because the thin edges caught against Olson’s skin, but they managed to shove it down all the way, until it was sitting at the base of Olson’s finger.
Olson beamed. “We’re gonna get married!”
“Yes we are!” They clung to each other, bouncing excitedly.
Mom smacked her forehead. “Marriage comes after bonding. And it’s definitely not something you promise someone when you’re ten.”