Chapter 8 #2
Kiev couldn’t control people’s minds or force them to do something they didn’t want to do. Instead, he used his innate magic to alter their emotional state—dampen their anxiety, boost their confidence, lower their inhibitions—to lull them into compliance.
While morally reprehensible, he hadn’t done anything illegal, neither by human nor paranormal laws. As such, the only recourse available was to strip his powers or bury him.
Dominic had considered the less extreme option…until the fucker had stabbed him.
Despite the whispers about them, the pack didn’t go around indiscriminately offing people. At the same time, they didn’t exactly discourage those rumors either.
Sammy shook his head and sighed. “I feel so stupid.”
“Because you care,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “Wanting to see the good in people isn’t a bad thing.” Just not a very realistic one, in his opinion. “He doesn’t deserve it, though. He never did.”
Sammy was quiet for a moment, seemingly lost in thought, but eventually, he bobbed his head. “You’re right.”
“There’s one thing I don’t get,” Chapel interjected. “Why did he call Sammy and warn him?”
“Spite.” He’d felt more than seen it in the siren’s memories. “Valerie wouldn’t give him what he wanted, and it was the only way he could get back at her.”
“That doesn’t help us find her, though,” Sammy muttered.
Dominic tightened his arm in comfort, pulling him closer. “We’ll find her. I promise.”
And he wasn’t in the habit of making promises he couldn’t keep.
“I know.” Sammy tilted his head back, looking up at him with a soft smile. “I trust you.”
The need to caution him, to remind him he shouldn’t hand out something as precious as trust so easily, played on the tip of his tongue, but he bit the words back. His mate didn’t need a lecture. He needed someone he could count on.
“Well, you two are revolting.” Chapel laughed and jerked a thumb to the side. “I’m going over there in case it’s contagious.”
“Coward!” Sammy called after her, laughing when she flipped him the bird over her shoulder.
“What did I tell you about encouraging her?”
That only made him laugh harder, and Dominic couldn’t help but chuckle as well.
“There are so many people,” Sammy commented a little while later. “How big is your pack?”
“Including partners and children, one hundred and seventeen.”
“Wow,” he breathed. “That sounds impressive, but then again, I don’t have anything to compare it to. I don’t know of any other werewolf packs.”
“Blackrock is one of the larger ones,” he confirmed. “But I’m not surprised you haven’t met others. It’s a fairly new concept.”
The idea of werewolf and shifter packs with rigid hierarchies was largely an invention of books and movies. Most groups were simply family units, with some of the larger ones consisting of two or even three generations.
Of course, exceptions existed, but it wasn’t until the last fifteen or twenty years that the formation of organized packs had really started to spread. Now, they cropped up in every major city across the world and had been slowly creeping into the suburbs and even some rural communities.
Blackrock was unique in many ways, but it had come about largely by accident. Loners, outcasts, freaks, and weirdos who had nowhere else to go and had come together to create their own family.
“So, no betas, omegas, or whatever?” Sammy asked when he had finished, his lips stretched into a mischievous grin.
“Some packs operate like that.” To each their own, he supposed, but it sounded more complicated than it needed to be. “We have job descriptions, not ranks.”
“But you’re the alpha.”
Dominic growled under his breath. “Yes.”
He hadn’t chosen the title for himself. Hell, he didn’t even know how it had started, but somehow it had stuck.
“What about your parents?” Sammy tucked his hands into the sleeves of his sweater and gripped his bottle by the neck through the fabric. “Are they part of the pack?”
Taking the cider from him, he rubbed his hand up and down his mate’s arm. “Are you cold? Do you want to sit by the fire?”
Sammy glanced toward the flames. “Yes, please.”
They moved to the other side of the pit, away from the commotion, and settled down on the bench he’d carved from a fallen tree three summers ago. Tucking Sammy against his side, he took his hands and blew warm air across his fingers.
“Better?”
Sammy nodded and sent him the kind of smile that made his heart ache. “Thank you.”
Leaning back on the bench, Dominic hugged him close as he stared into the fire. “My parents died a long time ago.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Sammy squeezed his hand. “Can I ask what happened?”
“My mother died in childbirth.” Saint carried a lot of guilt about it, despite it clearly not being his fault. “Since she and my dad were bonded, he went shortly after.”
Mages, including mystics, shared some of the deepest, most intense bonds in the paranormal world, but it came at a price. Magic always did.
It would be the same for him and Sammy. If they chose to consummate their relationship and solidify the threads of fate that linked them, there would be no turning back. Once tethered, their souls could never be separated, not even by death.
“That’s kind of romantic,” Sammy mused. “I mean, sad for the people they left behind, of course,” he hurried to add, waving his hands around wildly. “Never mind. Forget I said that.”
Dominic chuckled. “I know what you mean, and you’re not wrong. I have never seen two people more in love, and I can honestly say my dad probably would have died of a broken heart anyway.”
He wasn’t being hyperbolic, and he didn’t mean it as some poetic metaphor either.
Sammy exhaled, his relief palpable, but his smile wobbled a little. “What about you and Saint?”
“I took Saint in.”
“You did? How old were you?”
Dominic shrugged. “Four hundred, give or take.”
Despite the significant age gap, Saint hadn’t been a mistake or a surprise baby.
“Years?” Sammy yelped. “So…how old are you now?”
“Six hundred and twelve this July.”
Sammy’s eyes widened comically, and a little of the color drained from his face, but he didn’t comment. In fact, he was quiet for so long that Dominic had almost forgotten what had caused him to malfunction in the first place.
He was about to ask if his mate wanted another hard cider when Sammy jerked his head up, his expression a curious mix of incredulity and admiration.
“Wait. So, you raised your brother?”
“You don’t have to sound so surprised about it, but yes, I did.”
And it had been one of the greatest privileges of his life.
Sammy’s laughter rang through the night. “Okay, yeah, I’m a little surprised, but not in a bad way. I bet you were an awesome dad.”
“I—” A knot formed in his throat, cutting off anything he might have said, even if he’d had the words.
It hadn’t been easy, and he’d made a lot of mistakes along the way, but he had never regretted his decision. He didn’t need validation, but he couldn’t deny it felt damn good to hear the words.
He cleared his throat and stared straight ahead, watching the flames as they licked toward the sky. “Thanks.”
“Can I ask you something kind of personal?”
Suspicious of the hesitation in his voice, Dominic turned back to his mate with an arched brow. “More personal than my dead parents?”
Sammy’s eyes went wide, and pink crept into his cheeks, but he didn’t look away. “Okay, fair.”
Dominic laughed and cuffed the side of his head. “You can ask me anything.”
“Why don’t you like changelings?”
He stilled, his mind scrambling for something to say that wouldn’t be either insulting or an outright lie. Meeting Sammy, caring about him, didn’t change the past or the anger that had been festering for centuries because of it.
“Who told you that?”
“No one.” Sammy shook his head quickly. “No offense, but it was kind of obvious when we first met.”
Dominic detected no judgment or accusation in his tone. Only curiosity.
“You don’t seem like an irrational man,” his mate continued. “If you don’t like changelings, I figure you have your reasons.” He sighed and glanced down at their joined hands. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.”
The assessment gave him more credit than he deserved. “It’s nothing you did.”
“I know.” Lifting his head, Sammy gave him a shaky smile and shrugged. “I have it on good authority that you like me. At least a little.”
More than a little, but he grinned at the playful reply. “Whose authority would that be?”
“Yours.”
He laughed again, the response as perfect as it had been unexpected. “Good answer.”
“So, will you tell me?”
Dominic wavered.
If they had any chance at a future together, he’d have to tell him eventually, but they were still feeling each other out, still learning to trust. He didn’t know if he was ready for the level of vulnerability the story exposed.
He could, however, give him the condensed version.
“I trusted a changeling once, a long time ago, and a lot of people were hurt because of it.”
Sammy waited, his expression open and patient. After a while, though, he seemed to realize that was where the story ended for now.
He didn’t sigh, or huff, or yell about fairness. Which he would have had every right to do since Dominic basically knew every rotten thing that had ever happened to him. He also didn’t demand more than Dominic was ready to give.
Instead, his mate squeezed his hand and nodded. “Thank you for telling me.”
One sentence. Five words. Yet it contained more kindness and empathy than most people ever achieved in their entire lives.
Overcome with both emotions and instincts he didn’t understand, Dominic palmed the back of Sammy’s and dragged him closer. Then he leaned in, bridging the distance until barely a breath separated their lips.
But he stopped there, resisting the temptation to take what he wanted, and waited to see what the male would do.
Sammy gasped, the sound sticking in the back of his throat. His pulse thrummed quick and steady, and the unmistakable scent of desire wafted off him, making Dominic’s head spin.
Then slowly, tentatively, Sammy leaned in, closing the gap to rub their mouths together in a featherlight touch. When Dominic growled his approval, he did it again, then a third time, growing bolder with each repetition.
He tilted his head back with a breathy moan, his lips parted in an invitation Dominic couldn’t refuse. Tightening his grip, he slanted his mouth over Sammy’s and plunged inside, desperate for even the smallest taste of him.
Their tongues met and twined, gliding together in a sensual rhythm. He pushed deeper, pillaging the warm depths of his mate’s mouth, instincts spurring him to mark the male in any way he could.
It wasn’t enough. Sammy had ignited a spark in him that wouldn’t be extinguished, and he wanted more.
“Come on, everyone!” Saint called, his voice piercing through the haze of desire. “Gather ’round! It’s time!”
Breaking the kiss, Dominic sat back with a snarl. He was going to murder his baby brother.
Sammy, on the other hand, chuckled, even if it sounded a bit breathless. “Go on,” he said, pushing at his shoulders. “You don’t want to miss the run.”
Dominic hesitated. “What about you?”
“I’m not really into cardio.” He winked and motioned toward a small group near the buffet tables, a mix of humans, witches, fae, and one demon. “I’ll stay with the other partners and help watch the little ones.”
“Are you sure?” He hated the idea of leaving him alone, even for a couple of hours.
“I’m very sure.”
“Dom!” someone shouted from the shadows beyond the fire. “Are you coming?”
“Go. Do wolf things.” Sammy sat forward and brushed their lips together. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”
“I’ve never had anyone waiting for me before,” he admitted, surprised by how much the idea appealed to him.
“Well, now you do,” Sammy assured him with a heartbreakingly tender smile. “For as long as you want me.”
Forever, Dominic thought. He wanted forever with him.
Because anything less would be nothing short of a tragedy.