Chapter Eleven
As Bruin made his decision, Sergiy found his breath catching in his throat. His mate was choosing him! About damn time. Even with the open threats attached to his choice, it still made his instincts sing. Well, no way was Bruin going to have to make good on his promise to dump him. The words of his brother returned to him, and he knew that it wasn't enough just to have a loveless mate, he would have to properly woo his mate, if he wanted to keep him happy. And make him happy he would.
But then he turned his head, and saw Russ, pale in the face and far too still. His former boyfriend, that he'd already hurt once before.
Russ's head dropped the barest fraction, and then he turned to go.
"No," Sergiy said, instinctively reaching out.
Bruin frowned. "No, I can't be friends with Russell?"
"No to us," he said, unable to hear his own words over the thunder in his head. "I can't let you make that choice."
Bruin looked at him, confused, and he shook his head. "I'm your mate, though. It's… that should take priority, right? Maybe things will work out anyways, or things will change in a couple of years."
Sergiy took a hesitant step back, then another. He looked at Russ again, and wished he hadn't.
"Ser?"
"No. I'm sorry I didn't see it, I was blinded by the promise of a mate. It's clear that you two would be good together. You're both good men. Gentle. And I deal in pain and death every month. Fate made a mistake, that's all."
It had. If claiming the witch as his own meant hurting Russ a second time?Then fuck fate. How dare it?
Turning around, he started marching towards Bastion, up the hill. He'd be there in under an hour, easy. It might be his day off, but a few hours of weapons training should take his mind off of things.
His instincts screamed at him to turn around, to accept the offer Bruin was making.
'He's right there! ' they shouted. 'He's declared himself yours! Turn around, turn around, turn around—'
He picked up speed, moving into a jog. His drake senses felt the presence of Russ following, so he shifted into his weredrake form, with its longer, more powerful legs, and broke into a run.
Run back home, run away from the problem.
The two of them fit well together. Little Green and his Big Bad Wolf, minus the bad. How had he missed the signs? Too self-centered, of course. What else was he missing? Maybe after training, he should find Markos and Marka, ask them how the packs are doing.
He tried, but he couldn't keep his mind distracted. His thoughts kept returning to the two men at the bottom of the hill.
He hadn't been able to give Russ what he'd asked for five years ago, but he could damn well do it now.
One day in the future, maybe, his mate instincts would quiet. He'd read that they would, in time, but the books had hinted at it taking years. Well, years could pass in a blink, so he'd be alright.
Distracted as he was by his instincts raging like a flood of water in his ears, Sergiy noticed too late that someone was approaching him, and fast. He spun around on the mountain path, looking up just in time to see a massive red wolf leap upon him.
His reaction was too slow, and the dire wolf probably weighed half again as much as he did. After a tumbling spin, he found himself laying on his back, breathing harshly through his teeth.
With his paws solidly on his shoulders, Russ looked down at him and growled.
"Ser!You ran.Why?"
"Because I know you two would be good together."
Russ snorted, his breath hot against his own scaled face, and sat his weight down on him. "Lie."
"I-I don't believe in mates, it's just old nonsense—"
"Lie."
"Look, Russ, I'm a warlord. I'd be too busy to give Bruin, or anyone, the time they deserved."
Russ roared."Lie!"
"Because I'm scared!"
Russ sat back, his chest heaving, and the two of them stared at each other. After a moment, Russ shifted back into his human form, naked—unlike Sergiy, he didn't often wear the enchanted shifter garments that changed shape with its wearer, always claiming that they felt itchy.
Sergiy followed suit, more because he was laying on his tail than any other reason. Russ stayed on top of him, hands on his chest. The werewolf was no longer forcefully pinning him, unless you counted his gaze.
"Scared… of falling in love?" Russ's words were halting, unsure of himself.
"No."
"Years ago, I had told you that I loved you."
Sergiy swallowed thickly. "You did."
"You'd said no."
"I did."
"Is this the same?"
"Yes."
"Because you're scared of a relationship?"
"Because I'm scared of you getting hurt," he said, at last confessing. "Either of you, now, but mostly you."
Russ nodded, and Sergiy reached up, touching his face, no longer hidden by the messy hair that had been his norm for the last few years.
"Why did you stay?" he asked hoarsely. "Why stay at Bastion? It's dangerous here! Why couldn't you have just gone to live in Town and worked for your mom? Why did you stay here, helping Roland?"
"I like it here," he said simply. "And you were still here."
"You should have left."
"No."
"Russ."
"You deserve a mate," the big man said slowly, as if working through the words. "I want you to have a mate. Bruin could be your mate. The moon said so."
"I already said—"
Russ shook his head, then patted him on the chest. "Moon said so. And… I want to be your mate, too."
"It's dangerous. Sometimes incursions reach the keep. You could get hurt."
"My lord, it already hurts."
It wounded Sergiy to hear that, like breathing in broken glass. But he needed to tell him. He'd just seen the pain that dashing Russ's hopes caused, and that was from just a week of knowing someone. He couldn't hurt this loveable big man by doing it a second time today, he needed to rip it out at the root.
"I don't feel for you anymore, Russ. Not in the same way that I used to."
Sergiy had to blink, as tears started falling on his face, but Russ didn't move, didn't get off of him, and didn't take his hands off of his chest. Instead, his fingers tightened, clutching at his silken shirt.
"I know."
"I'm sorry."
"I've always known, my lord. Every week, I could smell it fading."
"I'm sorry," he said again, lamely.
"Ser," he said, and it felt wonderful to hear his nickname fall from those lips, after five years, despite everything. "Did you love me, once?"
Looking up into the solemn, trusting, red-rimmed eyes, he tried to lie. If he said no, that would be it, he knew. Russ would finally give up. He'd leave the keep. He'd be safe.
Just have to say no.
"Yes," he breathed.
Russ nodded, slowly, then adjusted his position. Straddling him, he lowered his upper body until his face was only inches away.
"If you loved me once, then I trust that you could again, if you wanted to try."
Sergiy laughed, a bit hysterically. "You have a lot of trust in me."
"Yes.Do you?"
"I, gods , I want to try."
"You'll be my mate?"
"It's dangerous."
"Ser."
"Y-yes."
"Yes?
" Yes ."
"Mm," he said. "Good."
Slowly, carefully, Sergiy ran his hand along the side of Russ's face and around to the back. Russ didn't need any further encouragement, lowering his face down, pressing his lips against Sergiy's own.
Gently, gently. But even as he kissed Russ, he felt the man's arms start to shake, and then Russ pulled back, lowering his head down further against his chest. A second later, he heard him making broken sobs, just one or two sounds, as if they were being squeezed out of him. Sergiy gripped the back of Russ's head.
After a minute, as Russ quieted, he heard footsteps from the road. He and Russ turned to look at the same time, and saw Bruin approaching at a slow jog, carrying Russ's kilt and sandals. He paused a respectful distance away, but Sergiy motioned for him to approach, and he did.
"Russell said follow, so I did," he said between deep breaths, a worried look on his face as Russ helped Sergiy get to his feet. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes," Russ said simply, not bothering to wipe the tears off of his face.
Sergiy nodded. "Yes. Bruin, I'm sorry for what just happened. I was trying to push you away, and that wasn't right. I— we'll explain all of it. If you can forgive me long enough to maybe go back to Town?"
"The park," Russ suggested.
Bruin looked between the two of them, then quirked a smile as he put a hand on his hip. "Sure. But I just ran a whole mile to catch up, and now we have to go right back down? My lord, that's so unfair."
Russ turned to Sergiy and made a claw gesture at him, and he nodded. As Russ walked over to Bruin to take back his kilt, Sergiy shifted into his dire drake form. Tossing his mane, he walked over to the other two, kneeling down, and Russ threw his kilt over his back like a saddle.
"Whoa!" Bruin said, when Russ simply picked the witch up and set him on Sergiy's back.
Sergiy looked back over his shoulder, grinning toothily at the sight of the awestruck expression on Bruin's face. Beside them, Russ was putting on his sandals. "How's this, Green witch? You can ride back down in style. And, it would please me if you called me Sergiy instead of Lord all the time."
"Ser, not Sergiy," Russ corrected, patting first the witch on the head, then, hesitantly, on his own snout. "He's your mate."
"He is," Sergiy said. "Maybe… our mate?"
"Maybe," Russ said, reaching out to hold Bruin's hand as Sergiy started a slow walk back to Town. "It's still early. But I would like to find out."
"I think I missed a few important things," he heard Bruin say. "Do I get a say?"
"No," Sergiy said, at the same time that Russ said, "Yes."
Bruin laughed. "Glad that's cleared up, then! But I think I get the gist, and if you two need to take off for some time alone, I won't be offended at all. But until then, to Town! And maybe some lunch? The ice cream was great, but I could go for something a bit more filling, maybe something with meat."
"I can think of a couple of things that would work," Sergiy muttered, and Russ snorted.
As Sergiy walked back to town, with Bruin on his back and Russ at his side with a hand on his flank, he realized that his instincts had remained quiet during the entire conversation with Russ, but were now simmering with satisfaction, even more so than when Bruin had made his initial offer to date.
It was a pleasant warmth, as warm and bright as having his packmates nearby.
Just as long as he didn't screw it up.