Buried and Shadowed (Branded Packs #3)

Gibson knew he’d never fully understand the depth of his Alpha’s love and loyalty to his Pack, but he’d do anything he had to in order to protect those bonds.

And that was why he’d been the one to learn to tattoo, to be the one who made each brand special, rather than something from the SAU. He learned to trace over raised flesh with ink so the brand looked like something they’d want, rather than something thrust upon them. He also added to one side of the tattoo with a special design that spoke of the individual Pack.

There were dozens of compounds littered around major cities in the US and the world. Through their own spy network, the shifters had been able to come up with a way to make their own designs for ink around the brand. It was Gibson’s job to make sure each and every Pack member had it. Of course, he waited until each shifter was of age and sound mind to do it, but he was the one who tattooed each and every wolf in the den.

And because the cats and bears had no one with his talent, he did theirs, as well. In the past decade, he’d been the one to sneak off the compound to the cats’ and bears’ places to do their tattooing. While he could have taught others to do it, he felt like he was the one who had to. It seemed ridiculous in retrospect that he’d risked so much to do what he did, but at the time, he knew he had to. And the Alphas of the other two Packs had been welcoming—even if some of the others hadn’t wanted his kind to touch them.

Yet every single one had his ink.

Hundreds of shifters wore his mark, his work, and yet he felt closed off from them. As if he were on the outside looking in because he was the one who had to cause them more pain.

“You okay, Gibson?” Cole asked, his voice low.

Gibson looked up at his friend and nodded. He didn’t speak much since there wasn’t a reason to. His work would speak for itself, and not just the Pack tattoos. He also did other work for any shifter who wanted a tattoo that was theirs and not the Pack’s or the SAU’s.

That meant he was always busy. But he liked it. As long as he didn’t have to think too hard about why he wanted to stay busy, he was fine.

“Want to finish this another time?” Cole asked, worry on his face.

Gibson shook his head. “I’m good,” he grumbled, his voice rusty from lack of use.

“If you say so,” Cole said wearily. “We can do Anya’s mating tattoo tomorrow if you need a break.”

“Really, Gibson, I’m good with waiting.” Cole wrapped his arms around her hips as she stood next to where her mate sat. Gibson held back a sigh.

He was happy for them, truly. If anyone deserved a mate and a happy ending, it was these two. They’d been through hell for one another and their Packs, and this mating would ensure the Packs’ health as well as their own.

So Gibson would complete the other part of his role and work on the mating tattoo for them. It was the least he could do. On the other side of the brand, opposite the Pack symbol, when a couple or triad mated, they had their own design inked on their flesh. That way, once it was completed, they held a full circle: of shifter, Pack, mating, and future. Without all of it, the design looked unfinished, as if it needed more for a person to stay whole. He stole a glance at his own design, one he’d inked himself, though he knew he could have probably found another to do it for him.

He didn’t have the mating mark and knew it might never come. Matings were few and far between within the compound. There just weren’t enough people for each person to find someone they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with. And while it might have been a bit easier to…settle if they were human, their inner beasts would never allow that.

So while Gibson might have wanted another, unless his wolf agreed, it would never happen. Of course, in Gibson’s case, it was a little more complicated than that.

For Gibson, it always was.

Owen patted his knee with his little paw, his claws sheathed, and Gibson smiled. He loved these two cubs like his own, and since he was their honorary uncle, his wolf felt like they were family. In fact, his wolf stretched out, giving a big yawn before bumping up against his skin, wanting contact.

Soon, Gibson thought. He’d shift to his wolf and go on a run in one of the few areas the SAU allowed him to hunt within the compound. One day soon, he had a feeling their kind would be able to hunt and roam in any of the forested areas around here, free and on their own four paws.

The time was coming for a revolution, though Gibson wasn’t sure it would be from tooth and claw, but maybe mental ability and policy instead. That was so unlike the past they’d grown up in, the histories they’d been taught. But as long as his Pack could live, he would do anything for them.