Fuck.
It was for the best.
They’d been lucky, he knew that.
Cursing at his traitorous heart, Jason pushed those feelings aside to be examined much later. He
lost himself in Daryl’s kiss, in the body draped over him as he coaxed them both back to hardness once more.
BACK IN THE comfort of their room, Jason lay on his back staring up at the ceiling, watching the early morning light make shadows as the sun rose. Even as knackered as he was, sleep eluded him. Soft snores from the other bed reminded him that Daryl had no such trouble. No conflicting feelings kept him up as he struggled to come to terms with what had happened.
Or not happened.
By unspoken agreement, they’d climbed into separate beds. Jason couldn’t put his finger on why exactly, but it hadn’t felt right to sleep together, despite what they’d done in the forest.
Because it doesn’t mean what you want it to.
He covered his face with his hands and sighed. He’d been so sure Daryl was wrong. So sure that sex was the key for them—in any form. And yet he’d still gone through with it, knowing what the outcome would be. Or what he expected it to be.
If he were truly honest, a tiny part of him had hoped Daryl would change his mind, would complete the bond, and that would be that.
He’d get his Happy Ever After.
But now guilt sat alongside disappointment, and Jason had never felt so miserable.
Yes, rationally, he could attribute it to circumstance and the full moon, coupled with the fact he wasn’t a saint. And Daryl had been well aware of the risks.
But the guilt remained.
And so did the disappointment.
He’d been so focused on the consequences if they had a potential bond, he’d not considered how much it would hurt if they didn’t. And no matter how much his body told him there was nothing there, his mind struggled to comprehend that they weren’t compatible that way. He trusted Daryl, liked him a lot, and Daryl had told him he felt the same way. And their chemistry out in the forest had been amazing.
If he was going to form a bond with anyone, then by rights it should have fucking well been Daryl!
What was wrong with him?
Dread pooled in his stomach.
Jason had been with his fair share of partners, a good proportion of them shifters. Was it bad luck that none had turned out to be a potential mate, or was there another reason? Not all shifters found their bonded mate. It wasn’t a sure thing. Was it destined to be like that for him too?
The thought left him cold.
He knew that others were perfectly happy without bonds, and not everyone wanted one.
Daryl immediately sprung to mind as an example.
But Jason did want it. He’d wanted it from the moment he’d been old enough to understand what it meant and to realise that it might never happen hurt his heart in a way that made him clutch his chest.
He turned onto his side, Daryl’s sleeping form taunting him from the other bed. The relief at nothing happening had been all over Daryl’s face, like he could finally relax knowing that he’d played with fire but escaped being burned. Jason realised in that moment how much he’d underestimated Daryl’s dislike of the whole bonding process. He should’ve known that Daryl didn’t do anything by
halves.
His hatred for it went bone deep. Jason should be glad they hadn’t had to deal with the shitshow a potential bond would’ve been.
He held that thought in his head, willing himself to be grateful instead of gutted until sleep finally claimed him.
AFTER A FULL-MOON run, especially one that started so early and lasted that long, it wasn’t unheard of for shifters to sleep through the following day. They had nothing to get up for, nowhere to be and when Jason eventually stirred, mouth dry, he blinked away the sleep and tried to gauge what time it was.
