Page 74 of Dance in the Stones

“They’ll know soon enough.” Damon could already feel his brothers’ curiosity through the pack link, but then it wasn’t every day he’d woken up and realized he was going to be a daddy. Some of those feelings were going to leak through the link. “Lamont’s going to be insufferable about it. He’ll claim he called it first.”

“Did he?”

“Maybe. Honestly can’t remember, but I’m not admitting it.” Damon grinned against Redford’s shoulder. “How are you feeling? Any difference besides the warmth?”

“I’m hungry, like really hungry.” Redford paused. “And stupidly emotional about how perfect all this is. We’ve got everything. Our castle, our sanctuary, and now our little family is growing, too.”

“That’s not stupid, Red.” Damon tightened his arms around him. “That’s perfect, just like you.”

And in Damon’s head, it really was.

Epilogue

“You need to eat something besides cold pizza, JC.” Damon’s voice crackled through the phone, concern bleeding through their pack link.

JC stared at the half-empty box on his kitchen counter, then at the map spread across his dining table. Red circles marked the places he’d already searched. Black X’s crossed out dead ends. “I’m fine.” He was already regretting having confessed his emotional state to his packmate the last time he’d been in Scotland.

“You’re not fine, you’re obsessed.”

“Says the hound who spent three years pining over a crumbling castle.”

“That was different. I didn’t know what I was pining for.” Damon’s tone softened. “These dreams you mentioned…”

“They’re not just dreams.” JC pressed his palm against the cool marble countertop, anchoring himself. “I see him, Damon. The same face every night for months. He has to be real, or I’m going mad.”

“Then let me help. Let the pack…”

“No.” The word came out sharper than intended. JC rubbed his face, his exhaustion making his bones ache. “This is something I need to do myself. My hound knows he’s out there somewhere. I just have to trust he’ll find the man eventually.”

Silence stretched between them. “Call me when you find him, or if you need any help at all,” Damon said finally. “And JC? Be careful.”

JC ended the call and returned his attention to the map. Bulgaria had always called to him - hence the castle he’d restored near Sofia. But this pull felt different and went a lot deeper. His hound had been restless for weeks, pacing beneath his skin, urging him east into the Rhodope Mountains. I guess it’s time for another trip, he thought with a sigh. And maybe pick up something better than pizza to eat first.

/~/~/~/~/

Three weeks later, JC’s rented Land Rover crawled up a barely there road, branches scraping paint he’d stopped caring about days ago. His hound surged forward, practically dragging him toward something just beyond the next ridge. Wondering if he was going to have to abandon the Land Rover and translocate home if he went much farther, JC was about ready to do that when…he saw it.

The monastery blended into the mountainside as if the mountain had grown around it, the stone walls made smooth by the weather, and all of the windows dark except for a single light that was burning high in what must’ve been the original bell tower.

I found it. JC had been alerted to the abandoned place by the locals in the last village he’d stopped at. They claimed it was haunted, crossing themselves as they talked. “You’d do best to stay away from there,” they’d warned as if JC would listen. To him, it sounded like the place in his dreams – and not the warm and fuzzy kind.

Large iron gates stood open, and JC drove through and parked, stepping out, his boots crunching on the gravel. He sniffed, but there was nothing but the scent of trees and a hint of snow. But as he glanced up at the building, he saw a movement flickering in the lit window – a tall shadowy figure.

JC’s heart stopped a moment before restarting in overtime. Is this it? The man I’ve been dreaming of for months?

The monastery door opened, and a man stepped out into the dying sunlight. No, JC changed his mind. The figure approaching him was something else. Eyes too old to be mortal fixed on JC with an intensity that should’ve burned. The man had dark hair pulled back to reveal sharp cheekbones, and he moved as though he was ready to fight at a moment’s notice.

“You,” the man said as he approached, his accent thick - Romanian maybe, or older. “I’ve been dreaming of you for months. I thought I was going mad.”

“You thought you were going mad? What about me? I thought the same thing.” JC inhaled deeply, trying to catch a scent, but it was as if the man wasn’t there. “I’m JC,” he said. “Why did you bring me here?”

“Bring you…?” A look of confusion crossed the man’s face, but then it cleared just as quickly. “You’re a hellhound, yes?”

JC nodded, although he had no idea what that had to do with anything.

“I’m known as Dragomir.” The man took a step forward, then stopped. “I don’t know what you mean by me bringing you here, but I know you’re mine. I just didn’t think you existed outside my dreams.” His jaw tightened.

“All right then.” JC’s hound was happy enough, apparently deciding they’d found who they were looking for. “Seeing as you know what I am, perhaps the question I should be asking is what are you?”