Donal bowed his head. If Tynan wanted to kick him in the head, he wouldn’t block the blow. Guilt piled onto the grief of losing Margery until the combined weight threatened to crush him. “I’m sorry, brawd.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
His littermate’s hand appeared in Donal’s field of vision. Grabbing it, he let Tynan pull him to his feet.
And hold him up until his head stopped spinning.
With a sigh, he shook his head. Yeah, that hurt, too. “Want me to leave?”
“No, let’s talk.” Tynan shot him an unhappy look. “Something we should have done first.”
“I know. I was wrong.” Donal touched his throbbing cheekbone gingerly, feeling the warm liquid on his fingertips. Blood. The gash didn’t hurt nearly as much as the pain under his sternum. “I was afraid to wait—I wasn’t sure I’d have the courage to tell her.”
People on the grounds glanced at them, detoured away from them, but didn’t interfere. Merely one more fight in the hot-tempered shifter world.
“Let’s clean up.” The sound of a babbling creek drew Donal toward it.
Near the water, the air was cool and moist under a canopy of the alders and willows. Farther upstream, cublings were trying to catch minnows in the clear stream.
Going down on one knee, Tynan splashed water over his face and hands. Head tilted, he listened to the laughter, then sighed. “I wanted a mate…and to raise cubs if the Mother so gifted us.”
Wanted. Past tense.
Tynan rarely asked for anything for himself. He gave and gave. To Donal, to the wolves, to the Daonain. To the God. Ten years in a human city.
Of course, now he was home, he would want to have a family. To find a mate to share with Donal.
And they had.
They had.
Donal rinsed the blood from his cheek.
“You told Meggie you wouldn’t lifemate her,” Tynan said slowly. “That we wouldn’t. Can you explain this to me?”
“I mate with multiple females to have enough power for emergencies. I told you this before.” Donal sank down onto the ground, his back against a tree trunk.
“Aye.” Tynan frowned. “But I didn’t realize if we found a female to love that you’d reject her.”
Cat-scat. “One…one isn’t enough, brawd.” Donal scowled. How could he explain this? “You know how Mother never lifemated but had numerous matings at every full moon. To ensure she had shifters available to give her power.”
“Yeah.” Tynan paced across the tiny space between the trees. “Go on.”
“You were in Ireland when she reached the change of life, and her tie to the moon was broken. No longer fertile, she attended no Gatherings. No one wanted to mate her.” She hadn’t been a likable female. “Without a full moon heat, she wasn’t interested either.”
“Not surprising.” Tynan sank down onto his haunches. “How’d she acquire extra power?”
“She didn’t.” Donal ran his finger through the dry dirt under the tree. It had rained days before. Under the dry top layer was the one filled with moisture and life.
He continued, “After you left, I spent time with the Visser littermates. Three years older, remember? Roel is crazy, but Senne was quiet. Kind. I was lonely, and he let me tag along with them.” Red hair, freckles, gentle blue eyes. A balance for his frantic littermate.
The werebear had taught Donal how to raid beehives.
With a sigh, Tynan settled on the ground, his back against a tree. “Was quiet. What happened to him?”
“A cliff crumbled out from under a bunch of young shifters. I was healing then but didn’t have any reserve. No matings yet.” Males started attending Gatherings when younger than their female agemates, but he’d not reached that point then.
“I healed Roel and another one, then was out of energy. Mother was the same, depleted before she got to Senne. With no one to give her more power, she couldn’t save him.”
Kind, quiet Senne had died. Because the healers ran out of power.
The guilt had never left.
Donal’s throat was dry as the dirt under his fingers. “Letting our people down…I can’t do it. Even if it means the rest of my life gets fucked up.”
“I know all about that kind of reasoning.” Tynan gave him a wry smile. “It’s hard on the people who love you.”
Gnome-nuts. Donal rose and sat back down beside Tynan. For the ten long years Tynan was in Seattle, Donal had missed him with an unending ache. All too often, he’d yelled at the wolf for his idiotic guilt that drove him to serve the God. For damaging both their lives.”
Now Donal had smashed Tynan’s hope and