He sighed, squinting up at the sun. “I wasn’t the most cuddly soul before that, either, I’m afraid. But then…well, I suppose you, of all people, deserve to know this. Sage and I have always been close. Despite our differences, we were practically inseparable and, perhaps, though we never crossed the line from friends to…anything else,” here his cheeks turned an endearing shade of pink, “we were still probably too close. He…he confessed that he loved me. Had fallen in love with me. He wanted us to be together, to face extinction as unorthodox mates. My dragon agreed wholeheartedly.”
With his downturned lips and the way he rubbed at his chest, and what I had seen of his and Sage’s interactions until now, I knew things had not ended well. Gently, I prodded, “You didn’t agree with your dragon.”
Dexter shook his head as we continued to walk down an empty gravel road, the small rocks crunching underfoot. “I was afraid. I couldn’t give Sage the life he wanted —the children he wanted— and I thought he would regret settling down with another omega. With me.” His Adam’s apple worked before he cleared his throat, shoulders slumping with resignation. “I told him that the idea of us as a couple was absurd. I said some things about two omegas together being wrong…ugh, I was an idiot. My dragon screamed at me to listen, to take it back, to be with my mate, and I doubled down. I broke Sage’s heart and my dragon’s as well.”
“And your own.”
Dexter’s pouty pink lips quirked, and he let out a mirthless chuckle. “Yes, well, I never said I was an intelligent man.”
Ignoring the self-deprecating dig at himself, I forged on, “So you spiraled?”
“That doesn’t feel like a strong enough description, but yes.” Kicking a stone, his eyes followed it as it jumped and rolled ahead of us before coming to a stop on the edge of the grass at the side of the road. “My dragon withdrew. I spent countless days and nights trying to shift, trying to reconnect with my inner omega, but he refused to stir. I felt like a shell of myself and, worse, completely alone, because Sage wasn’t speaking to me anymore, either.”
I stopped walking, aware that my eyes had gone wide. The idea of one’s soul animal completely retreating into the deepest part of their psyche —of not being able to connect orshift— was terrifying. “Dexter…” I breathed his name with sympathy and horror.
He shook his head again, a lock of blond hair falling across his forehead. He made no move to push it back into place. “I deserved it, Serge. I ignored my dragon’s wishes and I broke Sage’s heart. I had no right to feel whole after that.”
“But—”
“No. I understand it now. It took me the better part of the last century, but it was for the best. I mean,” this time when he shot me a smile, it held more warmth, though it was still a tiny bit rueful, “I found youandSage this way.”
As a firm believer in fate and The Magic, I couldn’t really argue with him, could I? Things happened for a reason sometimes, especially where our intertwined souls were concerned.
“I can still be horrified on your behalf,” I told him instead. “If I lost my unicorn…” I shuddered to think it. Inside me, my alpha stamped his hooves and snorted his agreement.
“Yes, well, it wasn’t pleasant.” We began walking again and he continued, sounding lighter already, though still melancholy, “So, because of all that, I became even more…” he paused, tilting his head from side to side as he seemed to search for the right adjective, “unpleasant. And, believe me, I knew I wasn’t exactly anyone’s first choice to be around. But the more I focused on my mistakes and the things I lost…”
“You spiraled,” I repeated my earlier assessment, bobbing my head in understanding. “That doesn’t make you a terrible person.”
“It doesn’t make me a good person, either.”
“No,” we were reaching the end of the gravel road, about to turn into the street which would lead us home. A cool breeze ruffled my hair and I took a deep breath, enjoying how fresh and clean the air was here. “But your actions certainly showed you are good at heart. Dropping everything to come help your friend, even though you weren’t really speaking at the time. Working alongside him to help his family and new friends and asking for nothing in return. Showing him that you wanted to earn his friendship again, rather than just expecting it. That speaks to your true character, Dexter.”
He was silent for a few minutes, likely taking the time to process my argument. He probably saw his actions in a different light to the way I did. I think we both knew that he had done more for the good of the pack than just redeem himself in Sage’s eyes.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him shrug. “I could have been kinder.”
“True, but you are trying now, aren’t you?”
Another shrug. “For all the good it did.”
“People’s impressions won’t change in one sitting.” As much as I wanted to soothe his hurts, I wasn’t going to lie to him or coddle him. He was a strong man and a fierce dragon; his ego would heal just fine on its own. “But they will change if you consistently show them who you really are. And,” I added when I watched his steps falter, if only for a moment, “it’s okay if you’re still trying to find out who you really are, too. People change over time — you aren’t the man you were before the weekend, and you’re not the same man you were before you spent a hundred years without your dragon.”
Dexter’s exhale held the whisp of a wry chuckle. “You’re really drawing on your ‘wise old shaman’ schtick, aren’t you?”
“If the shoe fits…”
“Hmm,” he turned his face towards me, smirking now, his eyes glinting with humor and mischief, “I don’t know if you’re really old enough to lean into the stereotype, though.”
“I’m seven-hundred-years-old and then some.”
The mirthful gaze turned heated as he dragged it slowly up my body. “Could have fooled me. You fuck like a man centuries younger than that.”
I led an active lifestyle, and The Magic had always taken care of me. Despite my age, I had to admit I was spryer than some of my contemporaries. I expected fate was at play there, too. I had two young mates to keep up with, I just hadn’t known it until then.
“Perhaps we should make sure that wasn’t a fluke,” I flirted back, pleased by the way his eyes lit up at my suggestion. “We need to make sure that I can truly satisfy my gorgeous young omegas, don’t we?”
He was nodding before I even finished the question, his phone in his hand, thumbs flying over the screen. “This sounds like a fabulous plan,” he answered, still typing away, “and if Sage doesn’t come home within the next ten minutes, we are going to start without him.”
