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“Why the tears?” Wyatt asked, wiping away one streak with his thumb.
“Happy tears. Very, very happy tears,” Bel answered as he pressed his face into Wyatt’s neck.
River’s warm body pressed to his side, and he was in his puppy pile of cuddles where he belonged.
Maybe it was silly to get choked up over a birthday celebration when he was the ripe old age of two hundred and five, but his mates had made him feel special. He and his brothers had left birthdays behind for that very reason. They’d stopped feeling special. They stopped feeling like they should be celebrated.
But River and Wyatt were changing so many things in his life. When he was with them, he always felt cherished and loved. He felt like they were truly happy he was alive and in their lives. After so many years of pain and torment, he’d never thought this possible.
Now he treasured every moment he had with them. This was only the start of the celebrations they were going to have in their lives together.
Winter’s Bad Morning
Winter woke to a loud bang.
No, a boom.
A deep, earth-shaking boom. Like an explosion.
He instantly reached across the bed for his mate to find Fox’s side of the bed empty and the sheets cool to the touch. Where was his mate? Had he caused that explosion with his magic?
Winter was out of their bed in a flash, his heart pounding. He paused only long enough to pull on a pair of jeans from the floor and snatch up his cell phone.
It took less than a minute to confirm that Fox was not in the house. He tried calling his mate’s cell as he searched, but there was no answer. Panic rose in Winter with every step. Where was his mate? Fox was still human and so very fragile. If something happened to him and Winter couldn’t reach him in time, he’d die. Winter would lose him forever.
Not in the house.
All the cars in the garage.
Fox was outside with the explosion.
Winter raced to the back door and flung it open, only to recoil with a pained cry. The sun hadn’t set yet. The sky was still bright blue with golden light gilding every step between him and Fox. He was trapped.
“Fox!” he screamed. His hands gripped the door and frame so tight his arms shook, and his knuckles ached. “Fox!”
His knees threatened to give out as terror tightened his chest. He grabbed his phone from his pocket and dialed Wyatt’s number. The wolf belonged to his brother Bel and wasn’t far. He and his other mate, River, would be able to go outside and search for Fox.
The phone rang and rang. Winter paced, mentally debating his options for running out into the sunlight. He wouldn’t get far. He’d need layers. So many layers to search for Fox.
“Hello?” Wyatt greeted in a groggy voice.
“Fox. Is Fox there?”
“What? No, he’s not. We’re still in bed. What’s wrong?” Wyatt’s voice grew clearer and more awake with every word.
“Not in the house. He—I can’t find him. There was an explosion. I can’t find him, and the sun is up.” The words were pouring out and he wasn’t sure if he was making any sense.
“He said something about the gardeners removing an old stump today. That was probably the explosion. We’ll come over and look for him, okay? You stay in the house.” Wyatt sounded so very calm and rational, but overwhelming panic and fear had obliterated Winter’s ability to be rational. Too much time had passed. Where was his Fox?
Winter turned to the open doorway, debating his options. He couldn’t remain inside. If he slipped into the dead world, would the sunlight still reach him? He’d never been brave enough to try it, but he’d risk it for Fox.
“Winter?”
He didn’t hear Wyatt because he spotted a familiar figure crossing the back lawn toward the house. He was jogging slowly.
Winter lunged for the open doorway and stepped onto the patio, his toes just shy of the line of sunlight. He was close enough to feel the sting and burn, sending hot needles into his bare chest, but he didn’t care. Fox was alive.
“Fox!” he screamed.
