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My wolf disappeared. I lost my pack, I lost my friends, I lost my family. Everything that could have gone wrong with his decision did. I became a shell of a person.
But then, I met Atticus. I got a second chance at happiness, and I’ve got a support system in place. I got a new pride, who seem a lot happier about my membership than my old pack did. And, holy fuck, I got a second chance at love. Not one second chance, not even two… no, I got six.
And, now, mating with Cevon, the brother that’s estranged from my Alpha mate? It’s like fate is giving me the chance to repair somebody else’s life, too.
I’m not just the fuck-up who needs coddled and protected.
I also get to help someone else heal.
I knock again when he doesn’t answer, my hands trembling as I wait. But after a moment, there’s still no answer, and I try to quell the disappointment. Maybe he’s busy. Or maybe… no, I don’t let my mind go there. I push the door open and spot him slowly typing something out, his two index fingers prodding keys angrily as his eyes are trained on the movement. He’s struggling.
“Are you okay?” I ask, and he startles.
His eyes meet mine, and, once again, I’m hit with how intense they are. There’s so much emotion in them, the darkness and the despair dragging me in, giving me a look into the demons he has.
The colours of his eyes, the different blues and greens, seem to change based on his mood. They go darker when he’s angry, lighter when he reminiscences.
There’s a tenseness to him now. He’s clenching his jaw, maybe even grinding his teeth, as he seems to be struggling to focus.
“I’m fine.”
I nod slowly. “Do you need help?”
“I’m capable of typing,” he snaps, glaring at me like I’ve done something to hurt him.
“I know,” I say, nodding.
“What do you know?” he demands, standing from the desk. He’s wearing the same clothes he was last night, the same faded black t-shirt and jogger bottoms. They’re well-worn, and they’re literally covered in his scent.
I have to fight the urge to rip his shirt off his back and claim it as my own.
“I need to talk to you.”
“If this is about you leaving,” he says, sighing as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders. He rubs at his temples, and in this moment here, he reminds me of Atticus.
Not based on their looks, but their mannerisms.
“Sit,” I command, and his ass plops down into his seat. My wolf nods in approval, the regal energy we’ve picked up from Atticus making me smile in pride. It seems I do have what it takes to boss around the more dominant males. His eyes warily follow me as I advance towards his computer. He doesn’t turn the screen or hide what he’s been doing when I look. “You’re writing an email?”
He gives one jerky nod, and I read the words, not understanding a lot of it.
But it’s English, and there are a good few spelling errors, and he’s used the wrong version of they’re, there, and their.
“You have dyslexia,” I say, a little bit surprised.
“I do not,” he snarls, an angry roar leaving his mouth. But when I turn to look at him, he has tears in his eyes. Someone has belittled him for his learning disability, and it makes me just as angry as he is.
But for very different reasons.
He thinks I’m here to poke fun at him.
But I’m not. Even before I knew we were mates, this still would never be an area I’d be a dick to him for.
“Scoot over,” I command, and he frowns and doesn’t budge. I sigh. “It’ll be easier to type from there.”
“You want to type.” His eyes narrow, his lips tightening, and I can smell the confusion in the air. But underneath the thick scent of that is his worry. He can’t trust me, his past an obvious reason why, but I’m willing to put the effort in and prove that I am trustworthy.
That I’m worthy of the bond we share.
