by Anya Byrne
"Oh," Myles heard someone—Will?—say. "Oh."
"Well this is unexpected," Mathias mumbled. "I suppose that's our cue to grant them some privacy."
Myles expected Saul to put up some protest, but the Alpha didn't. The reason became obvious when he caught the big werewolf leaving the room, cradling a child in his arms.
When they broke the embrace, they were alone. Braendan looked surprised, and chuckled lightly. "Do you ever get the feeling you've badly misread and underestimated someone?"
A while back, Myles would have replied 'no', since he'd been through a lot and never once had people surprised him. However, that had changed with the Lone Wolf Pack, and while he still wasn't one hundred percent sure he trusted them, they had nonetheless saved his life.
As such, Myles nodded, but before he could reply through actual words, Braendan spoke again. "It doesn't matter. For now... We're together. Tell me... Will you agree to be my mate?"
Myles's eyes filled with tears and he buried his face in Braendan's strong chest. "I already am, Braendan. I already am."
They curled together on the couch, holding onto each other tightly, both still in awe with this development. "I never expected this when I came here, you know," Braendan finally said. "I never expected to have a mate at all."
"That makes two of us." Myles dared to thread his fingers through Braendan's, wondering how he could already feel so comfortable with a man who was a virtual stranger. Could he really have this? How was it even possible? Could his mate not see how damaged he was?
He must have said at least part of that out loud, because Braendan turned toward him and fierce eyes met Myles's own. "Don't you ever say that about yourself. You aren't damaged. You're perfect just the way you are—and you're mine. I wouldn't want you any other way."
Myles arched a brow, unable to suppress his bitterness and his grief. "Don't lie to me. I know what I am—small, useless, prey. I could barely even fend for myself in the wild. I'm not good enough to—"
Warm, but sure lips landed on his own, silencing his rant. The kiss was brief, almost chaste, but it still made Myles's body thrum with heat and his heart do a funny leap.
Sadly, Braendan didn't try to take things any further. When he pulled away, he cupped Myles's cheek tenderly and brushed his thumb over Myles's lower lip. "Who is to say that we have to be what other people want? You are absolutely beautiful, and even if I waited centuries for you—it was more than worth it. Now... I only hope you'll take this cranky old Sidhe who attacked his host because he couldn't read his mate's energy properly."
Myles gazed deeply into Braendan's eyes and the affection he read in those deep green orbs chased away the shadows of his self-loathing. They still barely knew each other, and they could still make many mistakes that might separate them, but if Braendan was willing to try, so was Myles.
"There's nothing I'd rather do," he murmured at he hugged his mate once more.
Braendan held him in turn, and as he took in the scent and warmth of the Sidhe, Myles finally knew where he belonged—in his mate's arms, today, tomorrow, and forever.
Chapter Three
A few weeks later
After their not-quite-disastrous-but-definitely-eventful first meeting, Braendan decided to take his time wooing his new-found mate. He wasn't particularly patient, which should have perhaps been paradoxical for a Sidhe his age. But if anyone pointed that out, Braendan would proceed to emphasize that exact age and how long he'd waited for this moment and quite possibly punch the unwise person in the face.
Still, Myles was too precious to him to rush things, and he'd obviously suffered quite a lot in his life. Braendan made a mental note to track down the people who'd hurt Myles once things calmed down a little and, instead, decided to get to know his mate in a proper Sidhe courtship, as per the old ways of his people.
The Lone Wolf Pack was strikingly helpful. At first, Saul Simmons did eye him with a bit a suspicion, but that faded—literally overnight. It was a touch harder with Saul's father, Dean—who turned out to be the mate of the human Braendan had almost brained using his magic. Dean had not delayed to hunt Braendan down and while he had not attacked Braendan, he'd made it clear that further incidents would not end well.
Braendan would have honestly been impressed by the man's restraint, but he suspected he knew why he was being given such leeway. More often than not, Shannon could be seen in the arms of one of his pack members, and while he was still too young to speak, he could definitely communicate in his own way.
His immediate family seemed particularly adept in interpreting what the baby wanted—or perhaps Shannon was just that good at twisting them around his little finger. Either way, Shannon managed to get the pack more sympathetic to his plight. Mathias must have helped too—something he'd quite likely been very eager to do.
It gave Braendan a lot of time with Myles, and it also made him fall for the little werewolf more and more. After Braendan checked on the wards and made sure they were in good condition, he and Myles spent hours walking in the forest, hand in hand, talking about their lives.
Braendan didn't push for further intimacy, since it wouldn't have been proper, not yet. It was enough that he could read the glow of happiness in Myles's energy, that he could tell the fear and anxiety was finally drifting away. Myles still had trouble being around too many people at once, but werewolves were, in the end, social creatures, and in time, he would heal.
It was Shannon who once more nudged their relationship forward. That day, they walked out for a stroll, only to see Gavin and Saul playing with their son in the grass. The Alpha's mate briefly waved at them before turning his attention toward Shannon once again.
Braendan chuckled, although he couldn't help a pang of fierce longing. Once they were out of earshot and it was safe to have a private conversation despite the open space, he said, "You know, Gavin has that boy pegged right. He really is a little tyrant."
"Well, I can't exactly resent him for that." Myles beamed, and his smile was a wide beautiful thing that brightened his face and almost made Braendan's heart stop. "That day, when I came back to see you... I felt something tugging at me, encouraging me. I think it must have been him."
"I wouldn't be surprised," Braendan mused.
He must have sounded more thoughtful than he'd have liked, because Myles's expression sobered. "Braendan? What is it?"
Braendan hated the idea of lying to his mate, but he also didn't want to come right out and say 'I want a baby'. They'd only kissed once, for crying out loud—and that was during their first meeting, when Braendan had been unable to control his desire to comfort his distraught mate. Besides, he wasn't sure if his mate was aware of the possibility of the two of them conceiving. He might be aware that their gender wouldn't be a problem if they wanted to have a child, but Myles had probably been raised with entirely different beliefs.
"It's... It's nothing. Not important right now."
Myles scowled, and it was far more adorable than it should have been. "It definitely is." He poked at Braendan's forehead, straight between his eyes. "You have that wrinkle there, when you're thinking hard and seriously about something. Tell me."
It was at times like these when Braendan was most befuddled about the idea that anyone could have deemed Myles weak. The spark in his eyes would have quite likely terrified men braver that Braendan.
"I was just... Looking at Shannon, at the Lone Wolf Pack... I simply thought that I wanted to be a father." Myles's eyes widened, and Braendan quickly proceeded to add, "Not now, of course. Soon. When you want. If you want. When you're ready. My magic will make it possible, because we're mates, and well... Once we both want to—"
The way he was stammering was too embarrassing for a Sidhe his age, and he was almost relieved when Myles interrupted him. Of course, he'd have been more alleviated if his mate hadn't said one single word—turned into a question that could have meant anything at all. "Why?"
Braendan could only gather his mate was referring
to his reasons for being a father. "I... Having a child would mean the world to me. To teach him or her magic, to watch them grow and see them take their first steps..."
"No, that's not what I meant. If you want me, if you want this, why haven't you done anything about it?"
Braendan blinked, feeling like they were having two completely different conversations. "Pardon?"
Myles threw his hands up in an obvious show of exasperation. "I've been waiting for you to make a move since that first day, but you haven't even kissed me! It's been weeks, Braendan. We might be doing things wrong if you want a baby."
"I'm trying to court you properly," Braendan spluttered.
Myles's expression softened into a bashful sweet smile. "I just... You don't need to do that."
"Of course I do. You deserve everything I can give you and more."
In that moment, Myles seemed to make a decision. He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and then unexpectedly wrapped his arms around Braendan's neck. "I'm a werewolf, Braendan. I know Sidhe do things differently, but we... We follow our hearts. I simply want to be with you. It's not that complicated."
Braendan couldn't bring himself to deny his beautiful mate. Yes, he had wanted to give Myles time, but right now, that would probably do more harm than good. And really, if Myles wanted him, who was Braendan to say no?
He pulled Myles closer, and finally, finally kissed the beautiful werewolf. It was different than the first time around. That kiss had been more about comfort than passion and desire. But the moment their lips came into contact, lust flared brightly between them. Braendan's magic sparked over Myles's skin, making the werewolf gasp in distressed arousal.
Braendan should have probably made an attempt to control his powers, but he didn't bother, not when his mate responded so beautifully. Instead, he took advantage of the occasion and thrust his tongue into Myles's mouth.
Myles's flavor exploded on Braendan's taste buds, and he groaned, distantly wondering how he'd ever managed to keep his distance for so long. It seemed unfathomable now, when simply the idea of breaking their kiss was unbearable. Breathing lost its importance as they devoured each other, too greedy and desperate to care about anything else.
Their clothes soon began to grow restrictive, the material an unbearable barrier between their heated bodies. It was Myles who took the first step to fix the problem, clawing at Braendan's shirt and ripping straight through it. Buttons flew as Myles tugged, for the first time displaying the extent of his werewolf strength. Braendan loved it, loved seeing Myles like this, open and free, taking what he wanted, no longer afraid of who he was and proud of his legacy.
Of course, selflessness really had its limits when it came to what they were doing, and Braendan found that he couldn't stop himself from following Myles's example. The same wild need Myles displayed was now coursing through Braendan's veins, and he pushed Myles back, shoving him against the trunk of a nearby tree.
Myles hit the wood hard, but didn't complain. In fact, he let out a growl that only encouraged Braendan further. His claws dug into Braendan's hips through the material of his jeans as he tried but failed to get rid of the denim.
As much as he hated it, Braendan decided that, for practicality purposes, he had to break away, if only for a few moments. Myles didn't seem inclined to let him go, and somehow, he managed to trap Braendan against his body. Even if he couldn't have had much leverage, he lifted himself and wrapped his legs around Braendan waist in a show of flexibility that nearly broke Braendan's brain.
Torn apart by desire, Braendan couldn't help but lean forward and take his mate's mouth again. He managed to muster enough presence of mind to free his mate of his pesky shirt. At that point, Myles finally realized what Braendan had been planning with his attempt to break away, but they were both too maddened to try again.
If Braendan could have been bothered to think, he'd have probably been embarrassed that a respectable Sidhe his age had been reduced to this. But right then and there, thinking seemed far too overrated. In fact, nothing was more important than grinding against Myles, kissing and touching every inch of him he could reach, seeking the pleasure that had stubbornly eluded them.
In hindsight, Braendan had quite possibly waited for too long, because it was over with embarrassing speed. Even if the friction and the dry humping shouldn't have been in the least bit satisfying, he was already hovering on the edge of climax. He'd have liked to say he managed that performance for long enough to salvage his dignity, but really, the idea of hovering was quite optimistic. What really happened was that, for the first time in—what?—centuries, Braendan came in his pants, tumbling into orgasm with a cry.
To his credit, Myles wasn't much better off. He jerked in Braendan's arms and moaned against his lips, his body trembling as he climaxed. He then decided it was a good idea to drive Braendan wild all over again and pressed an absolutely filthy kiss to Braendan's lips.
It was unfortunate that Braendan's strength was the only thing keeping them stable, because Braendan's knees—already weak from the climax—finally gave out. He lost his balance and they tumbled to the ground in a graceless heap.
For a few seconds, they just lay there, drawing deep breaths and staring at the canopy. Myles was the one who started laughing first, and the sound was so clear and beautiful that Braendan couldn't have held back if he wanted to.
He laughed as well, deep hearty chuckles that seemed to strain muscles he hadn't used in a long time. That might actually be the case, now that he thought about it, since he hadn't had much reason for laughter before meeting Myles. The most he'd mustered was the occasional smile for Maeven and Mathias. But Myles had brought happiness back into his life, and now, Braendan could laugh again.
It was just as well that their frantic grinding session had taken the edge off, because when they came together once more, it was different. As laughter faded, Myles gave him a serious look. "I want you to claim me now, Braendan."
"Are you sure?" Braendan couldn't help but ask. Their relationship might have improved tremendously, but he was still very aware that the wounds left behind by Myles's past wouldn't immediately heal.
Myles nodded, and there was no hesitation in his stance. "Positive. I see now that I've been looking at things all wrong. Watching the Lone Wolf Pack together made me realize that I've let other people opinions of me color my judgment." He smiled, and the twist of lips was a little sad and self-deprecating, but nonetheless there. "And maybe... Maybe in my heart, I'm still not sure I deserve you. But I know I belong to you, and I want to feel that. It could be selfish, but I'm tired of being afraid. I never want to be afraid again, not when I'm with you."
Braendan had no words to reply. Perhaps a few centuries back, he might have managed to come up with something coherent, but not today. In the end, he decided words were useless, and he chose the same course of action that seemed to work particularly well for them. He kissed Myles.
It would have been very easy for the lip-lock to turn into the same passionate explosion that had gripped them earlier, but miraculously, Braendan managed to tame it. He kept it gentle, all the while using this opening to finally get his mate naked. And oh, he'd known Myles was beautiful, but finally seeing him nude, lying there on the grass, completely at Braendan's mercy—it was almost too much for Braendan to bear. The sight stole his breath and made him freeze in place, which unfortunately, his mate took entirely the wrong way.
"If you've changed your mind..." he started hesitantly, already moving to cover himself.
Braendan grabbed Myles's wrists and kissed them. "Never. Just... Give me a moment. It's just hard to think that you... That you truly want to be with me."
For all his lack of coherence, Myles must have understood that he meant the words, because he once more relaxed on the grass. It occurred to Braendan then that his mate couldn't be very comfortable on the cold ground. Not to mention that sitting here staring wasn't bringing them any closer to their mutual goal.
Musterin
g the final threads of his composure, Braendan reached for his jeans and shoved them off. He was less than successful at it, because he'd forgotten about his shoes, but he fixed that problem easily enough without even having to take his eyes off Myles. Once naked, he made a small nest out of their clothing and gently relocated Myles there. When Myles arched a brow at him, Braendan somehow managed to explain, "I don't want you to be hurt. Ever again."
After that, he let words go as he was at last granted the gift of exploring his mate's body. Myles's skin was soft and smooth despite him being a werewolf, and Braendan took his time acquainting himself with every inch of the young werewolf. He swirled his tongue in the hollow of Myles's throat and nibbled on his collarbone. He bit on his ears and buried his nose in Myles's hair, inhaling deeply. He sucked on Myles's nipples, teasing the tender nubs and reveling in the cries the action drew out of his mate.
With each kiss and flick of tongue, he went lower down, and Myles trembled more and more. Braendan's magic shot out of him, curling around them, tentatively reaching for Myles. Myles gasped out Braendan's name, and the sound was like music, like an enchantment stronger than the magic of the entire Sidhe nation.
When Braendan lowered his mouth over Myles's cock, the young werewolf screamed. His dick was still covered in the evidence of his earlier orgasm, and Braendan groaned at the taste of his mate's seed. The vibrations made Myles hiss in turn, and clawed fingers landed in Braendan's hair, squeezing and pulling. Braendan would have very much liked to make his mate come like this, to watch him spend himself in Braendan's mouth—but his own urgency was rising again, and his patience, already stretched so very thin, was running out.
