They heard movement in the big family room, and even Dylan smelled smoke and charred fur.
“This isn’t the time for a showdown, Michella. These men saved my son. They can help with the others. I’m not equipped for some of the injuries that are coming in. He’s a doctor.”
Michella sighed and pushed herself to her feet. “I’ll rest, but not for long. There’ll be more to pick up.”
“Kell and Jason can help. Where’s your wife?”
“She’s up on the fire. She and Pim are trying to hold it back. It’s crossed into Arcada.”
Instead of heading to the office, Michella went into the room where Travis was recovering. She turned at the doorway. “I can’t do much, but I can at least stay near Travis. That way…”
“Thank you,” Melody said. “That… Just thank you.”
Dylan tugged Melody’s hand, and they hurried out to the truck. They sorted the wounded and worked with Deacon to decide who needed immediate help and who could wait. Night was falling, and soon Oliver Bleu came through. He grimly observed Deacon, then finally decided the rogue posed no danger. Before the vampire left to join the fight, April appeared, no doubt to keep a cautious watch over Dylan and Deacon.
No sooner had they settled their patients than another truck pulled into the driveway, and more wounded filled the house. Soon another truck would come.
And in the end, no one died.
Not even Travis.
Chapter 24
The smell of old smoke was acrid and burned his nose. It didn’t seem to bother Dylan, though. He knelt on the ground, wearing thick leather trousers and heavy leather boots to protect his feet. The fire was long out, but the hike through the burned section of the forest had taken them through some rough terrain. Travis eventually bundled his clothing into his pack and made most of the trip on four feet. Even then, he was still a bit weak and wearied faster than usual.
They’d taken several breaks, though, setting up camp whenever Dylan found a place that called to him. He spent hours digging, planting, and simply lost in meditation. Now they had finally reached the epicenter of the fire. They were high on a ridge. To one side lay Arcada, to the other, acres and acres where the fire had climbed, leaving behind its waste and destruction.
Dylan knelt, his hand buried in soggy ash up to the wrist, and he gazed all around at the devastation.
“The demon used toxic accelerants to start this fire. Some of the land is badly poisoned.” He shook his head sadly.
Since the fire, Dylan had changed. He laughed easier yet frequently dropped into melancholy. When Travis tried to talk about that day with Ulric, he merely smiled and shook his head, saying that Travis and Jason were his heroes. But Travis suspected his last hours with his master had been like a knife through Dylan’s heart. He’d been molested and possibly raped. Of course Dylan laughed it off, reminding Travis he’d survived Ulric for centuries. But he’d also been unmanned in a more damaging fashion, forced to watch Travis and then Jason scramble for survival. After that he’d been there to help pick up the pieces of an all-out pack war, assisting with treatment of the injured and the emotional fallout afterward.
He’d nursed the wounded and spent hours coaxing Calum out of the horrific dream world he’d surrendered to. Yet Dylan managed to spend every free moment with Travis, supporting him through the agonizing early stages of his recovery. He’d been a pillar of strength, and now Travis wondered if his strength was failing. It was bound to; not even the mightiest oak could withstand so many storms.
“Let’s set up camp down there. The water’s clean, and the ground is fairly level.”
Travis followed Dylan to the spot he chose, and they pitched the tent, then laid out the sleeping bags. It was winter still and chilly, but the night was dry, the skies clear. Travis would prefer to sleep outside under the stars, but Dylan seemed to need something. Maybe not the shelter over his head, but something to keep him secure.
Travis missed all the action on that Christmas day. He’d been conscious enough to remember being dragged through an enormously painful series of shifts, courtesy of his entire family and the two rogues. They took turns nursing him through the aftermath, and Dylan had always been there, comforting him and loving him in his dreams. Once he’d recovered enough to walk again, they’d moved out of the big, open family room and into one of the spare bedrooms, though Dylan refused to share his bed.
The rejection hurt, but even then, he’d seen pain and delayed trauma working its way under Dylan’s calm exterior. He was flinchy again, not reacting well to touch unless he initiated it.
Behind closed doors, Dylan would wrap himself around Travis and hold him gently, but he always left the bed once Travis fell asleep. There’d been no sex—not even in his dreams.
This trip to the fire zone was hard and ugly work, but in his heart Travis prayed Dylan would find the healing he needed.
He wished there was someone he could talk to about Dylan. The marks of the geas had vanished from his skin. Even though his captivity had been harsh and cruel, the daily reality of hundreds of years was gone, and Travis had finally come to the conclusion that Dylan was just floating, rudderless. Life as he’d known it had been turned on its head. He was lost.
They camped cold, unwilling to light even the smallest fire. Not here, where the stench of chemical mingled with the char of ash. It wasn’t comfortable, and it wasn’t pleasant, but Dylan was driven, and Travis was compelled to follow.
As was his new habit, when Travis felt restless, he pulled out his sketch pad and illustrated his thoughts and feelings through images that meant nothing and everything. He imagined a tree where there was only a burned-out stump, and lush vegetation filled with wildlife and birds. Page after page, he built the new forest, and on every page, a magical guardian dwelled, sowing seeds, tending plants, and bringing new life to the stricken wood.
The image he worked on now was Dylan as he’d seen him long ago, in a dream. Or maybe he was dreaming now, because when he looked out over the sunset, the path they’d taken had the barest green flush spreading out over the hills. Small trees swayed in the breeze, and overhead, birds flew, searching for seeds and grubs. This area, though, it was still parched and dead, poisonous testament to the evil that lived side by side with the good.
Travis returned to the sketchbook and filled in the colors he imagined. Woodsy brown leather and a green shirt the color of new leaves. Hair the shade of redwood fell down over Dylan’s shoulders, and eyes of emerald smiled as he lifted a little child on his shoulder. Her hair fell to her hips in long braids, and a red knit cap covered her head. Other children clustered around him, dancing and laughing.
A shadow fell over his shoulder, and Dylan was there, looking down at the sketch.
“That’s me.” He took the pad from Travis’s hands and stared at the image. Slowly he flipped through the pages, one after the other. “How do you know these things?” He looked bewildered. His skin was gray with ash, his silver-pale hair dropped back in a tangled braid. His hands were dirty and left a smudge on the paper. While Travis had been drawing, Dylan had been working. “You drew the children exactly as they were. The forest too. How could you know this?”
“You showed me back when you walked in my dreams.” Travis reached up and took back the pad.
“It looks more as though you walked in my dreams.” Dylan lowered himself to the ground, his weariness showing in every movement. “I don’t know why you’d have picked up on my dreams while I was invading yours.”
“Maybe you knew you could share them with me.” He smiled up at Dylan. “You’ve been working hard. Look back to the south.”
Dylan turned and scanned the horizon. He sighed, shaking his head. “Yet the forest inside Arcada isn’t recovering, and I don’t know why. I’ve even asked her.”
“Her?”
“Arcada. She talks to me.” He leaned back and rested his weight on his elbows. “I don’t really know what the town is, but I guess since I came from s
omeplace like this, she…recognizes me in a way.”
“She. I had no idea. Seriously? It’s really a girl?”
“Nature- or Earth-based entities often are. At least, when she visits my dreams, she comes in the form of a woman. She never has a very distinct face, but her presence is unmistakable.”
Travis set down the pad and glared at Dylan. “You’ve been seeing a woman behind my back and never bothered to mention it?”
For a moment the fae looked confused, and then he laughed. “Well, yes. Since no one else seems to be able to communicate with her easily, I get the honor. And”—he stopped smiling and looked down—“she listens. When I dream, I’m able to…to speak the words of my grief. My…pain. And she hears.”
Travis stared at him, stunned. Tears burned his eyes, and he blinked fast, trying to keep them from spilling. “You don’t talk to me.”
“Where do I begin, Travis? Nearly a thousand years of pain and loss. I took lives, and I enslaved others. I was a victim and without choice in much of this, but at one point, I stood up and said yes to Ulric. And then I was his. She knows my life; she’s seen every moment of it. I don’t have to explain when I talk to her.”
“I understand all that—I really do—but you could still talk to me, Dylan. Tell me what you’re feeling right now, at this moment.”
A flash of pain flared in Dylan’s eyes. Travis hardened himself to the guilt of having given even more hurt to the man he loved. But if they were to move forward together, they had to communicate. Baby steps.
“I feel…small. Unworthy.” He gazed out in the distance, his green eyes so very sad. “I feel unworthy of your love and of the trust your pack has given me, especially after…” Dylan looked away, unable to continue, to say the name.
“Ulric.”
“Yes. You came for me. You rescued me.”
“And you did what you could to protect me. You sacrificed for others, D. Over and over, all your life. Most of those people are gone, but I’m here.”
Dylan sighed. “That’s the hard part, Travis. They aren’t gone. Homewood lives on. My family, friends. That’s how Jason and the others knew of me. Unless we are slain violently, our lives go on. Forever, it seems.”
“Then go find them. I’ll go with you!”
Dylan clasped Travis’s hand and kissed it. “I was exiled. Homewood will not welcome me back. Besides, this is my home now. Forever.” He dug a hand into the soil and let the ash and dirt trickle through his fingers.
“Where is this Homewood? Arcada welcomed you. I’m sure it will as well. You owe it to yourself to see the people you lost.”
“Somewhere in the UK. Maybe Wales. I’m not sure where it is. When I left, I lost the knowledge of its location.”
“We’ll find it, D.
“You have school starting soon.”
“I have summer vacation. Spring break. The holidays. I’ll make it a research trip.” He grinned, pumping every bit of charm into it. “I’ll draw churches and old, tumbled ruins. We can go visit all the pubs in Ireland while we’re there.”
“Gods forbid. You’ll cause riots.” Dylan’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Listen, D.” Travis knelt before the fae. “Are you listening?”
“My hearing is fine, little wolf.”
“Okay. Hear me, then. You have family. You have children who grew up without you. They probably have children. And they have…” He paused, shaking his head to clear it. “Crap. That boggles the mind. Anyhow, stop thinking of yourself and what punishment you do and do not deserve. Think of the people you saved and lost. What do they deserve? What are your children’s names?”
“Alys and Denys.” Bright tears made tracks through the dust and ash on his cheeks.
“Don’t they deserve to see you? To know you are free?”
Dylan stared off into the distance, as though listening to a voice Travis could not hear.
“Push past your pain, Dylan. Put yourself in their place. What would you want?” He moved closer and smudged the tears with his thumb. “You’d want to know, right?”
Dylan nodded.
“Okay, then, it’s settled. Once you’re finished here, we’ll head out and catch a plane to Wales.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. I saw what was in that box of yours. You’re filthy rich, old man. You’re every boy toy’s dream, a sugar daddy. How’d I manage to get so lucky? Hell, you can just buy a jet, and we’ll fly there.”
“School—”
“I’ll start in August instead. That’s months away. Think of this as our honeymoon. We’ll stay in castles and palaces…the best hotels. Eat the finest meals. Hire our own staff to wait on us.”
“Castles are drafty.”
“Ahem. Look where we are right now, Mr. Picky. It’s freezing out, and we’re sitting in the dirt. You’re worried about drafts?” Travis made a show of dusting off his clothes. “Speaking of accommodations, I’m glad this tent sets up easy, because just past the tree line, there’s a nice, level, unburned spot with hot springs and fresh water. You can sleep out in the ashes, but I’ve had it.” He reached down and pulled Dylan to his feet. “Ever have sex in a hot spring? All sorts of interesting.”
He grinned and turned away, catching the scent of arousal on Dylan.
So his fae wasn’t suffering in silence. He talked to Arcada. His therapist was a magical town. Travis would have liked to be the one Dylan turned to when he needed to talk, but damn, Travis was grateful. Grateful to Arcada.
“Thank you for being there for him.” He scooped up a handful of soil and let it loose in the wind.
The sky was brilliant with stars, and all around the wind blew through the treetops. Travis and Dylan were clean, with hair washed and clothes shaken and brushed. They walked side by side, the pale-haired fae and the wolf who suddenly bolted to chase a rabbit from the brush. Dylan looked up at the full moon and stopped in his tracks. Old instincts shimmered through his senses, knowledge he’d never been taught but that lived deep within his soul.
It was time.
Travis loped back to his side, smoothly blended from wolf to man, and stood before him naked and wild, beautiful as no mere shifter could be. He smiled, reaching out to Dylan. They were in the middle of a great meadow, and on the other side of the grass the trees were burned away.
There. At the edge where death met life. He pulled the ancient leather pouch from his vest and shook out a handful of seeds so old they nearly fell apart in his hand. Travis gave him a puzzled look.
“You sure those are gonna grow?”
He smiled and kissed the shifter’s luscious lips.
Life roused within his soul. It quickened his blood and stirred his loins. He cradled the seeds and blew gently on them, then murmured a prayer as old as time. Choosing the largest from his hand, he buried it deep in the poisoned ground. The others he flung as far as he could and watched them pierce the darkness with light and life. They hit the ground, bounced, and just lay there. Waiting.
He turned to Travis and pulled him close, grinning at the young man’s nakedness.
“Did it feel good, throwing out the old?”
He nipped the young man’s chin and smiled. The pictures Travis had drawn were vivid and precise, and Dylan let them play in his mind. Trees and birds, wild herbs, and the children of his people dancing among the fallen leaves. The spreading branches of a massive oak sheltered them from the sun. Sweet water flowed from underground springs.
“It felt…very good.” He kissed Travis, then caught his chin and held it. He kissed him again. There’d be no ropes or bindings tonight, no rough play or games. Just the two of them making love in a meadow under the light of the full moon. He stood as Travis worked at the buttons on his shirt. He tried to help, but the shifter shook his head and pushed his hands away. He knelt and unlaced Dylan’s tall work boots. Once Dylan stepped out of those, he stripped quickly and spread his arms, opening himself to the fresh air and moonlight.
/> It felt so incredibly good. Clouds were building on the horizon, but they had hours before the rain came, and when Travis closed his mouth over his cock, Dylan sighed. Or maybe he groaned. It was always hard to tell during sex.
Travis licked around the ridge of his cockhead, then dipped his tongue into Dylan’s slit, causing his hips to jerk and shudder. Impatient, Dylan lowered himself to the ground, and Travis devoured him, hungry hands on his groin, eager mouth kissing his jaw and lips, dragging his tongue up Dylan’s exquisitely sensitive ear.
“This acorn looks like that old seed you just buried.” Travis carefully tugged at the silver earring with his teeth.
“It’s very similar.” But he didn’t want to talk about seeds and earrings. He wanted to fuck. He rolled the shifter to his back and pinched his nipples, then slid a warm hand down his belly. He loved the cut muscle, the breadth of his shoulders contrasted to his lean hips. He loved the wiry black curls surrounding his heavy shaft and his lightly furred balls. Gods, he loved his balls!
He sucked Travis down into his mouth, bobbed a couple of times to get him hard and wet, then pulled away with a pop. He laughed at the shifter’s disappointment. He kissed his way back up Travis’s belly and chest, then straddled his hips. He covered him, pressed soft kisses on his lips, and then whispered in his ear, “I want you to fuck me.”
He was on the bottom before he could process what happened. Travis flipped him to his belly and began nibbling his way along Dylan’s back, then paused to nip his ass.
“You marked me. Back in the beginning, you marked me, and it never went away.”
“Because you wanted it to stay.”
Goose bumps roughened his skin, and Travis carefully bit the tender flesh at the crook of his neck.
“Will you keep my mark?” Dylan supposed it was rhetorical, because Travis bore down and, in a moment of blissful pain, broke the skin, then gently lapped it.
Silver-Steel Page 27
