“But who is to say what constitutes being fated to be together?” Dexter offered ponderously. “If The Magic is evolving, perhaps compatibility itself is, too.”
Eric’s eyes widened and he blinked slowly back at my mate. “So, all our research…you’re saying it’s…what, exactly? Potluck?”
“Not at all,” Dexter remained calm in the face of Eric’s mounting panic. “Just that there is more than one issue to deconstruct now. There are the situations like ours” —he waved his hand over Sage, himself and me— “and then more traditional alpha/omega matings likely to occur now that alphas are being unleashed on the populace again. Clearly, Serge’s theory about The Magic choosing to bless communities willing to prioritize equality over power dynamics has merit, but the rest of it is all up in the air, so to speak.Thatis where your research should be focusing now that you have managed to unlock peoples’ hidden alpha sides: whether there’s any rhyme or reason to how fate decides its beneficiaries, and if there is any sense trying to determine fated pairings without setting off a heat and rut cycle—What?”
“I’ve definitely underestimated you,” Eric shook his head. “I’m sorry, Dex. We didn’t think you were taking things seriously, and we used you as little more than a glorified errand boy.”
The apology was one Dexter had needed to hear, even if he wouldn’t ever admit it. Through the bond, I felt something inhim settle and thaw, and by the way Sage nuzzled against him, he had likely felt the same. But when he spoke, our mate just brushed Eric’s words off.
“I understand why,” he replied in a tone that was a touch too casual. “I wasn’t exactly on my best behavior when I first arrived. I had some personal issues I wasn’t handling particularly well and you —and the town in general— bore the brunt of that. I’m sorry for that, in hindsight.”
Sage gave our bondmate a gentle nudge with his shoulder. “I think you should tell Eric and Bran about all of that. I mean, without sounding stuck-up, I feel like it was related to our connection and that might be something worth having on their records or in their research notes.” He bit his lip. “Obviously, only if you’re comfortable telling them.”
Eric started to protest, obviously intrigued. “If you think it’s relevant—”
Sage silenced him with a glare and repeated, “Only if you’re comfortable, Dex.”
Dexter’s expression gave away his mixed emotions, but he pressed a kiss to Sage’s forehead before sighing and confessing, “I spent a hundred years without access to my dragon.”
Pride welled inside me at his bravery for confessing this outside our bond, and the feeling echoed through the bond, emanating from Sage.
Meanwhile, Eric gaped. “Youwhat?!”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Eric’s fixation with learning about my dragon’s withdrawal was amusing at first, but as the months continued to pass, it got a little old. He’d conferred with Brandt, of course, and had buried himself in books when Brandt had reminded him that Rex’s puma had needed a traumatic event to coax him out from wherever he’d been stuck.
“There is no way to test any of your theories, little brother,” Brandt told him one afternoon, when we were all gathering before one of the monthly pack runs. “And, truly, it seems to me that these situations are caused by a deep disconnect between our secondary designation and our human forms. There is no way to replicate that, nor should we want to.”
The clinic was closed for the afternoon, the weather too nice for even Eric to stay stuffed inside, though he had already volunteered to stay behind during the pack run in case anyone needed medical assistance over the course of the evening. We were sprawled out on the grass in the field behind the little cottage, watching Brandt and Micah’s daughters toddling around while their boys experimented with attempts to crawl.
Not far from where we sat, Beckett and Ollie were keeping sharp eyes on their twins, who were at an age where their first spontaneous shifts might happen at any time. The little hellraisers had calmed some over the course of the past year, but were still quite precocious, and we all assumed that they’d only be harder to manage once they took to their fur for the first time.
“I don’t want to replicate it,” Eric huffed with noticeable agitation, scowling at his brother, “but if it does happen to someone else, I want to know how to help them recover from it.” He rolled his shoulders. “Just the idea of not being able to shift…blergh. It’s unnatural.”
Sage shuddered as well, sprawled as he was with his head in my lap, his long legs stretched out over the grass to my side. I reached down to rub his belly, idly smiling at the insistent tapping coming from within. Actually, it was less tapping and more a bid for freedom, at that point, with the little limbs pushing against the confines of Sage’s abdomen, stretching and contorting the flesh into funny shapes.
“It wasn’t fun,” I acknowledged lightly, having come to terms with my ordeal over the months spent discussing it at length. “But once I gave in and admitted my omega was right —once I truly accepted that I wanted Sage and resolved to mend our relationship— he came back to me.”
Eric didn’t seem at all appeased. Screwing up his nose, he said, “But that means we’re at the whims of our inner designations,” he muttered. “Shouldn’t we be allowed to have free will?”
“You think I didn’t want Sage as badly as my omega did?” Stroking at my mate’s belly and our son kicking within him, I chuckled bitterly. “I did. Our inner beasts only ever want whatis best for us, even when our human brains are being stubborn, Eric. But I was an ass, and I paid the price for it.”
“With how much you sound like him, I think you’ve been spending way too much time with that alpha of yours,” he complained, then cocked his head. “When does he get back again?”
“Tomorrow,” Sage answered before I could. He was still a bit pouty that Serge and I had outvoted him on his demand to travel while heavily pregnant. Shielding his eyes from the sun, he glared up at me. “Still think you should have let me eat that evil little furball.”
A few feet away, separated from us by a dark-haired infant currently rocking back and forth on hands and knees, Brandt snorted. “Careful, Sage.Youare beginning to sound likeme.”
“Gods forbid,” Sage snarked back at him.
“Besides,” I coaxed, “youlikeJamie.”
“I liked him before he stole our alpha away.”
Ah, a mood swing. How delightful.
Knowing better than to call him out on it —because I preferred not being singed to a crisp— I opted for a gentler approach. “Serge is upholding the promise to help bring back alphas in Europe, darling, which is why he agreed to travel back with him temporarily.”
