by Marie Medina
“I went out to the woods for a run. I was angry about what Rafe said and did, and I knew being away from you was better.”
Those words stung, and he asked, “Better for you or me?”
“Both.” Ryden’s lips formed a hard line, yet he didn’t look angry. His eyes reflected a kind of frustration as he said, “I have excellent control, but that doesn’t mean I don’t struggle. Do you really wish to be bound to me without knowing me? Despite your body’s desire to cling to me, you might resent me one day. Maybe even hate me for letting my lust decide your life for you.”
Owen tried to make those words mean what Ryden obviously wanted them to mean for him—that Ryden was protecting him. But all he could hear was that Ryden would enjoy fucking him a few times but didn’t really want him beyond that. He got into bed and drew the covers up. “Will I see you at all tomorrow?”
“Yes. This second dose … well, let’s just say tomorrow things should be better. For both of us. I’m quite good with potions. I’ll see you at breakfast and probably throughout the day.”
Owen turned on his side, glancing at the glass. “Was it stronger? It tasted worse.”
“Sorry about that. Yes, it was stronger. I wanted you to be able to sleep well.”
Owen looked down, wanting to say he’d sleep better in his mate’s arms. But he knew Ryden didn’t want to hear something like that.
“Owen?”
Owen looked up, hopeful. “Yeah?”
“I’m sure it might’ve been stress or fear earlier, but … in the kitchen…” Ryden pressed his lips together and hesitated.
“What?” Owen sat up and looked at him more fully.
Ryden picked up the empty glass, rolling it in his hands a moment. “Perhaps tomorrow I’ll tell you more about me to prove my point, but what I’m trying to say is that I’m not worth tears. I don’t see how I could make a man like you happy.”
Anger rose up, yet he was too weary to yell the way he wanted to. “One minute you’re listing all the ways you’d be the ideal mate and the next you’re telling me you’re not worth crying over. You push me away, then talk about how tempting I am. You say you don’t want me but threaten to kill a man for trying to touch me. You go back and damn forth between acting as if I’m beneath you while also saying you can barely control yourself.” Owen slid under the covers and turned his back on Ryden. “You’re arguing with yourself more than with me.”
“I’d say I’m fighting instinct with reason.” A long pause followed. “But perhaps you’re right.”
That was more positive affirmation than he’d gotten in any other conversation. Owen turned back to look at him. “Unless you’re getting in this bed with me, I’ll say good night.” He rolled over again, burying his face in the pillow. He hoped an image of climbing into the bed with him would stay with Ryden, that perhaps a night alone with his mate so close would affect the proud and stubborn warrior in some way.
Owen clenched the sheets in his hand as Ryden stood there for nearly a minute. He refused to roll over and push more, even though he ached to and felt on the verge of begging, despite the potion’s calming effect. His desire went beyond the physical, but he felt the Fen wouldn’t believe that.
And Owen didn’t want a mate that had to be begged. The Fen had to work through this on his own.
Ryden cleared his throat and said, “Good night. And let me know if you need anything.” The door opened and then closed again.
Owen listened to the door to Ryden’s bedroom opening and closing. All went silent, but moments later he was sure he heard something breakable, perhaps the empty glass, crash against the wall. Owen rolled over and looked at the wall, listening. No other sounds came, and he reached for the lamp, turning it off. He lay there a long time, wondering if he’d said and done the right things. The air in the house felt so tense all of a sudden, but soon enough it faded.
Do I want a man like that in my bed? In my life?
He burrowed down into the covers more, only one answer echoing in his head.
****
Ryden stood in the kitchen watching the coffee percolate on the stovetop when he felt Owen wake up. He moved away from where he’d been leaning on the counter to begin frying the bacon and sausages. With a flick of his wrist, he set the fire burning in the middle section of the stove and put a cast iron skillet down next to the percolator, which he then moved off its burner. He chewed his lip as he wondered how he was going to get through the day. His intense awareness of every move Owen made had surprised him, and he had no idea how to stop it. He’d never heard or read about anything like this happening. The worst had been the night before when Owen had touched himself in the shower. Ryden had started sweating and had ended up throwing the bedroom windows open to let the cold night air calm him. He and his wolf had practically had a duel over it. The beast was still furious their mate had been forced to settle for pleasuring himself.
Ryden had never before experienced this kind of conflict with his other form. He put a little oil in the pan and watched it pop and sizzle. Tossing the sausages in first, he tried to focus on the task at hand.
See, we’re cooking for him. Providing for him. We are not shirking our duties.
The beast growled deep inside him.
Soon, Ryden felt Owen coming down the stairs. His mate yawned and stretched as he came into the kitchen. “Smells good,” Owen said.
“Should be ready before too long.” Ryden nodded to the cups he’d set out and then to the percolator to his left. “Coffee is ready, if you drink it.”
“Oh yes. Can’t live without it.” Owen helped himself to a full cup, blew on it a moment, and then downed a long draw, sighing afterwards.
Ryden did his best to focus on the food as Owen’s scent hit him full on. “I had a message from Vadik. Apparently, news did spread pretty fast.”
“Really? He’s a good friend, but I hate that my problems invaded his wedding and honeymoon.”
Problems? Now who’s contradicting himself? I thought you were happy about this? Then he was glad he hadn’t said anything, as it occurred to him that Owen saw his resistance to the mating as the problem. “Yes. He said he would ‘kick my ass ten times over’ if I hurt you.”
“Vadik’s protective of everyone in our pack. But he’s always been very different. Finding out he’s one of you—at least half, or a fourth or whatever—makes sense. I see some of his qualities in you.” Owen took another long sip of coffee. “Though he’s much friendlier, of course.”
Curious and also trying not to bristle at that comment, Ryden asked, “Did Vadik feel he was different? Before he knew his exact origins?”
“I think he kind of did. He’d always known about his grandfather not being like us. But he never let it affect his devotion to the pack and our community.” Owen leaned against the counter, studying him. “You refer to the Sons of Fenrir as a clan. But do you think of yourselves as a pack?”
“Not the way you do. About ten percent of our population cannot shapeshift. We have no idea what causes that.”
“They have no animal half?”
“That’s just it. They do. It simply cannot surface. Trying to force the change with magic usually leads to the death of the person. Naturally we gave up on trying long ago.” He flipped the sausages and scooted them to the side, adding several strips of bacon. “We don’t change forms as regularly as you do. It’s a very hard difference to explain, the biological versus the magical. Even though my beast is very strong and I like shifting, I don’t think of myself as a shifter—I’m elven. Not pure blood but no one is anymore, not even us. Magic is the core of my being. My connection to the earth and the way I draw power from it.”
“It’s amazing the things magical beings can do. At the royal wedding, I was astounded by the crowd. It was so amazing seeing beings I’d never have dreamed were real.”
“Perhaps you should’ve focused on them,” Ryden said softly.
“I’m happy with the decision I made.”
Ryden flipped
the bacon, giving Owen only a brief glance. Happy? Can he really mean that?
“How large is your clan?” Owen asked.
Ryden tensed a moment but told himself Owen was only trying to find out more about him. There was no way the shifter could know their population had been dwindling significantly. Even the fae king had seemed to have no idea, still talking as if the Sons of Fenrir numbered in the thousands. “Much larger than your pack.” That was true, if misleadingly phrased. If every member was counted, the clan would outnumber Owen’s pack by about fifty, if their information was correct. “Did you sleep well?” he asked right away to change the conversation’s direction.
“I struggled for about half an hour, but once I fell asleep, I don’t think I even moved.”
“I’ll mix more potion after breakfast. I figured you’d want to eat first.”
“Just thinking about drinking that stuff makes me queasy.”
“Sorry. I can’t risk altering it in any way. It might make it less effective.”
Owen poured himself more coffee. “How did you sleep?”
Not at all. I paced as I brooded over how to get you to give up on me as I tried not to imagine how soft your skin is. “I was restless. Rafe’s visit reminded me I’m still in an unresolved conflict with the elders.”
“About marrying?”
As he plated the food, Ryden wanted to bite his tongue. He’d only wanted to deter Owen from asking if he was restless because of Owen’s presence. But he’d brought it up so there was no going back. “Yes.” He took the food to the table and then poured himself a cup of coffee, taking one sip before grabbing two smaller plates and two forks. He gestured for Owen to sit at one of the stools on the right side of the table, and once Owen was seated, Ryden put the plates down and sat beside him, but with one stool between them. “Help yourself.” He pulled over a basket and folded the cloth back. “There’s fresh bread as well.”
“Thank you,” Owen said, smiling at him. Owen tore off a large chunk of the crusty bread and then asked, “Why is it so important to them? Do they just like to control everything?”
“Yes, in a way. I made them angry, I suppose. One of the elders has a daughter, Tasia.” He looked over at Owen to gauge his reaction. “That name familiar?”
After a moment, Owen said, “The woman who proposed marrying Asmund and having Vadik as their consort or whatever?”
“Yes. It was an alliance plan formulated by her father, who’s an elder. When it was rejected, he said she needed to find a husband and focus on the rearing of sons. She’s only a year or so younger than me. To the elders, she’s been delaying too long as well.”
“She chose you?”
Ryden couldn’t help laughing. “She picked my name from a list. Told the elders that I was ‘handsome enough and not too annoying’. So, you can imagine how swept off my feet I was.”
“Fated matehood really has little value here?” Owen asked.
We rarely find our fated mates among our own kind anymore, but you’ll never relent if I tell you that. The last clan leader had been somewhat open to clan members taking mates who weren’t of Fen blood, but Harald had drawn a line in the sand, so to speak, the moment he’d won the position. “It’s not valued the same. That’s not the same as having little value, as you put it.”
“You rejected her then? And the elders got angry?”
“I don’t even like being around her, so I said exactly that when I refused.” Ryden cringed at the memory of all the yelling. “She called me some choice names when I came before the elders to formally refuse. Her father, Fendal, also had some words for me. Very loud ones. I’m favored by Harald, the present clan leader, and only that and my social position kept me from being reprimanded more formally for rejecting the match.” They still hold it against me, but it could’ve been worse.
“I don’t understand how your society works. It seems pretty old-fashioned.”
“It’s a stricter, more rigid society. We have a clan leader, and the position is won through a series of challenges, both mental and physical. The clan leader selects a council of elders. He must retain at least half of the former leader’s council. And they must be of a certain age and have no marks against them.” Ryden pushed his plate away. “That’s a whole system that would take hours to explain. My refusal is considered a mark against me, though I was not punished at the time.”
“You mentioned your social position. You live in a pretty big house. Are you rich? Do you have a title?”
“We don’t have a system of nobility, lords and all that, but there are important positions. I hold a very special position in the clan, a position held by my father before me.”
“What is it?”
Ryden turned and said, “I’m the executioner. If the elders of the clan say someone must die, I swing the sword and take that person’s head.”
Owen put his fork down, swallowing with what seemed like great effort. “I assumed you might’ve seen some battles in your time. I didn’t consider anything else.”
“I’ve only held the position a few years, but my services have been called upon.”
“Your services have been called upon?” Owen said, sounding disgusted. “How can you say it that way? Even if the person did something awful?”
Ryden sighed. “Do you see now why I say we could never work out? You belong in your warm, bright forest with your pack and those smiling people who care about you, not buried up here in the snow with hostile assholes and bound to someone who sees heads rolling when he closes his eyes.”
Those last words hung in the silence between them. Ryden sat very still, stunned at what had slipped past his lips. He seemed to have no control at all around the omega.
Owen’s countenance softened when he looked at Ryden again. “You don’t like it? Don’t want to do it?”
Why did I say that? It was the best way to get him to give up on me and now he’s going to try to fucking save me. “I have no choice.”
“But you defy them in other ways.”
“Yes, but I must serve my clan. I’ve fought in battles, and I’ve served by using the edge of my sword to enact their justice.”
Owen stood up and looked at him. “You think you’ve scared me off? Now I want to convince you even more. If they don’t like you mating a shifter, that’s just one more reason for you to leave and be free. The gods must have a bigger plan. If it makes your clan look down on you, then fine. You’ll find acceptance elsewhere.”
Ryden rose and moved to the other side of the table. “I should mix the potion. The other one’s wearing off. That’s why you’re getting upset.”
“Getting upset? I want to help you because I care about you despite all your efforts to push me away. Yes, I’m upset. My mate just told me, in a very vivid way, that he hates the life his clan has chosen for him. That he’s tormented by what he’s forced to do.”
“Owen, that is not even close to what I said.” He reached for the bottles, trying to concentrate.
“I won’t drink it.”
Ryden’s head whipped up. “You will drink it. You must!”
Owen actually smirked at him. “You gonna hold me down? That would require us touching.”
Ryden gripped the table until his fingers ached. “So that’s how you wish to spend today? You in aching pain and unable to find relief while your scent drives me crazy?”
Owen shrugged. “Go for another run. Stay away all day. If I mean so little to you, why do you care what I feel or go through?” He left the room, his churning emotions pouring over Ryden.
He clutched at the table again, trembling. A scream bubbled up his throat, but he didn’t dare let it loose. He waited until he was outside, his clothes shredded and his beast running through the snow. The scream burst out of him as a howl.
****
Owen gripped the curtains as he watched the enormous wolf running and listened to its howl. A wave of emotion hit him, and he stared after Ryden. At breakfast, he’d felt odd, as if he could read
Ryden’s emotions somehow. He’d almost believed he could feel the conflict inside the other man. He’d tried to dismiss it, but now? His pain mixed with an anger he hadn’t been feeling moments ago. And there was a different kind of pain, a struggle he couldn’t make sense of.
His skin felt too tight as he moved away from the window. The desire to run hit him, especially after getting a glimpse of how beautiful his mate was in his other form. Ryden’s fur, surprisingly, was solid gray, a deep shade that contrasted beautifully against the snow. Owen walked back over and leaned his head against the cool glass of the window, and he watched Ryden disappear into the woods.
He wants me. He does care, even if tries to mask it as something else.
Owen also believed he’d hurt Ryden’s feelings with his last comment. He couldn’t be sure, but that howl had held more than anger and frustration. Did Ryden see his refusal to take the potion as defiance, or perhaps as a kind of rejection? He had no way of knowing until Ryden could sit down and be honest with him.
Owen paced, once again unable to sit still. But he kept his gaze on the window. He had words he needed to say to his mate, and he’d make Ryden listen, no matter what he had to do.
Chapter Four
Several Hours Later
Ryden came to the edge of the wide stone patio on the backside of his house, but he didn’t place even one paw on the stones. He could sense his mate inside, but he’d known Owen would still be there. The little shifter couldn’t use magic, and Ryden hadn’t left his phone out where it could easily be found. Guilt washed over him as he thought about Owen essentially being trapped in the house alone for a second day. He stood there, not ready to shift back because he had no idea what he was supposed to say or do. He’d done a lot of thinking, but of course, Owen probably had as well.
One of the back doors opened, and Owen emerged, swallowed up by one of Ryden’s cloaks and dragging another one in his arms. The smaller man tried to keep it from touching the ground, but it was likely far too heavy for him to keep a good hold on it. Owen laid it across a stone bench a few feet away from Ryden, his gaze cast down.
