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Everyone freaked except Damian.

He took charge, his voice calm and deep, sort of melodious. He started delegating. Vincent needed to give Opal his keys and she needed to go pull the truck up. Vincent needed to get the coolers and load them in the trunk under the tarps.

Damian scooped me up, bride-style, and carried me off the dock and we went right to the urgent care. The whole time, he held my gaze, telling me I was all right, that I would be just fine, and that there was no need to panic. It still hurt, but he made everything better.

It turned out only to be a sprain, and I recovered in a few weeks.

I also remember lots of times at Damian’s shed, before we were having regular sex, back when we were trying to wait. I remember coming to see him. If Vincent wasn’t there, we’d always end up making out on his bed, our bodies tangled up, the kisses breathless and overwhelming, the tingle of the newness of our joining working its way through us.

I remember at some point during these sessions, I’d always discover that Damian had an erection, but that he’d try to keep that from being obvious. He wouldn’t press it into me.

Sometimes, I would try to touch it, either through his pants, or—if I was feeling really bold—under them.

He’d gasp in my ear, “Getting ahead of ourselves.”

He’d moved my hand. He’d roll me over and pin my wrists above my head and kiss me hard.

“But I want it,” I’d pant.

“We already decided to wait,” he’d say.

“I don’t want to wait, not anymore.”

“Neither do I,” he’d sigh. “But we will.”

And if I kept at him, his voice would be soothing and deep. “Just this, omega,” he’d order me, and it would go all through me, and I’d feel loose-limbed and free and relaxed. “This is enough.”

It would be enough.

He did that sort of thing most of the time, actually. Other people would be angry. Other people would be sobbing or worried. Other people would be anxious.

But Damian would be a cool, calm center, his light green eyes unwavering as he took utter control of the situation. He was the cyning, just naturally.

I didn’t think he was the sort of man who enjoys forcing himself on women, no matter what I said to him. I thought I was just angry and hurt and still reeling, still, after all these years, from the way it turned out he didn’t choose me.

Those times in that shed, in Damian’s bed, we’d end up not kissing, just lying there, facing each other, smiling at each other. He would trace the outline of my jaw. He would rub his thumb over my lips. He would kiss my forehead and the tip of my nose and my chin. “I love you, Leo,” he’d whisper.

“I love you, Damian,” I would say, my hands spanning his shoulders.

“More than anything,” he’d say. “More than I thought I could love. It’s so big, this feeling I have when I look at you.”

“Me too,” I would sigh. “Me too. When I’m with you, it’s just better than when I’m not.”

He’d groan. “Exactly.”

And sometimes, we’d lie around and talk about the future, planning everything out. We’d go to college, even though it could be difficult to leave Riverside for members of the pack. We both wanted to do that. Afterwards, though, we’d come back and that’s when he’d bite me, and that’s when we’d get married.

There was never any question of that, of course. We were obviously getting married. It was just a question of when and how and where. We had all sorts of different permutations for our wedding. When we were young, it was very lowkey, on the banks of the river, and I wasn’t even going to bother wearing a dress, just a white bathing suit or something. We’d exchange vows and dive in and swim out into the middle of the water and everyone at the wedding would swim, too.

But by the time we were a little older, we had decided we wanted beer and wine at this thing, maybe some food, and I was more keen on a dress.

And by the time we were even older, we were thinking about the community, our families, everyone else for whom this event would be significant. He was going to be the cyning of the pack. He was important. He had responsibilities.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I SHIFTED AGAIN, and it was easy, not painful at all, as if Vincent had gifted me some secret move to level up in a video game, and now I could crush it at being a wolf.

I ran in wolf form because I wanted to run away from all of it.