Tynan winced, a sick feeling in his gut. Donal worried about losing his patients. Tynan worried about losing his littermate. Last time that’d happened, Donal had almost joined the dead.
“Besides Margery, I only mated two females last Gathering. Neither of them were available—they’re here.” A muscle jumped in Donal’s cheek. “I got help from a female I’d mated two Gatherings ago. But drawing power from her was like pulling a tooth. It didn’t flow. I only got drops instead of a lake.”
“Because it’d been too long since you’d mated her?”
“I don’t think so.” Donal’s mouth compressed. “I think my…feelings…for Margery are affecting the bonds to other females. I’m getting too attached.”
Wait, wait. Tynan stiffened and asked again, “What did you say to Meggie?”
“I told her about the accident and lack of power.” Donal pulled in a breath. “And I explained I couldn’t lifemate anyone. Her. Ever.”
What the fuck?
Anger was a sharp blade severing the control of his temper. “You made a decision that affects both of us without talking to me first? Without any discussion or having me present?” The memory of her face, of the tears in her eyes stabbed into his heart. “We found a female we both love, and you tossed her away?”
“Tynan, I… Yeah.”
Tynan growled as the ache in his chest grew, filling his world with pain, with despair. He looked up, thinking the sun had gone behind a cloud. But the sky was clear, the air clear. But his world had gone dark.
Gone, all the hopes he’d nourished, the future he’d wanted.
He pulled in a breath.
His brother’s silvery eyes were dark. Haunted. His face strained, his black flannel shirt wrinkled. Donal was hurting.
Good.
Tynan swung and punched Donal right in the jaw.
Donal landed on his ass on the stubbly forest grass. “What the fuck.”
“No, fuck you,” Tynan growled.
Face darkening, Donal rolled up and dove forward. His shoulder hit Tynan’s gut, knocking him back.
And then they fought.
Donal’s moves were feline quick. Growling, Tynan moved faster. Hit harder.
His future was gone.
They were fighting. About her.
Having heard the shouting, Margery had turned in time to see ever-so-controlled Tynan hit his brother. Other shifters were watching but not interfering. Letting the males fight.
Fight.
Watching them, she pressed her hand to her mouth to silence the protests, the screams.
To keep from crying.
They were as close as any littermates she’d ever seen, and they’d been through so much already. Separated for a decade. They’d each said how much it meant to be back together.
Now they fought—because of her. Not from anything she’d done, but simply because she was here.
Donal would never lifemate anyone.
Funny how she’d only now realized how much she wanted that dream.
Could she ignore her hopes and settle for less? Not all shifters lifemated. Some never formed a bond. Some didn’t want such a demanding type of love. Didn’t want to know they’d be with those mates until death and beyond.
Because a lifemating was forever.
Leaning against a tree, she felt the strength of the trunk, rooted deeply, lifting its branches high into the air. Surviving blizzards and drought, fire and freezes.
But trees stood alone.
She loved them, Donal and Tynan. If she stayed, she might still be with them, together, like they had been over the past month. Not alone.
But with every full moon, she’d attend the Gathering and have to watch them mate with other females.
Gatherings were sacred. No jealousy, no territorial displays were allowed. She’d be expected to mate with other males. Although, if she had no interest, it wouldn’t happen.
Could she handle seeing Tynan’s lips on another female? Seeing Donal take someone’s hand and lead her upstairs.
How long before she broke and hit someone in a Gathering. Or even caused more fights between the males?
Eyes blurred with tears, she saw Tynan knock Donal to the ground. They were bleeding. Both of them.
And she ran.
Halfway across the festival grounds, she heard Angie yell, “Margery!” She slowed and reluctantly headed for the firepit where Angie was grilling various meats.
“Yes, Angie?”
Her boss gave her a careful perusal. “Are you—” She halted when Margery shook her head. She held up a folded-over paper. “All right then, your brother asked me to give this to you.”
“Oliver?” Frowning, Margery took it, opened it.
Margery,
Wells had a meeting with the Cosantirs, cahirs, and shifter-soldiers. He asked for help in hunting the Scythe. Patrin and Fell, hell almost all the shifter-soldiers volunteered to help.
I can’t.
I’m a shit soldier, and I can’t go back to that.”
Margery closed her eyes at the horror of what she was reading. Asking Oliver to be a soldier, to fight again. No, that was so wrong. Once again, he’d been left feeling inadequate.
She kept reading.
I’m going to leave. Get out of here, out of the States. Go to Canada.
I’m sorry I’m messing up your plans for us living together, but I can’t stay here.
I love you, sis,
Oliver
He was leaving? The bond that connected them pulsed with her hurt.
Angie’s hand closed over her arm. “Margery, what’s wrong?”
“Oliver. He’s leaving.” She looked around frantically, then down at the note. “No, he’s already left.”
Everything—everything was breaking around her. Eyes filling with tears, she shoved the note into Angie’s hands and walked away.
On his knees, Donal swayed as he raised his fist for another punch. It didn’t happen. The strength in his muscles had drained into the ground.
Tynan was trying to stand. With a low growl, the stubborn wolf pushed to his feet, staggered a few steps, then straightened. A bruise reddened one cheek; his lower lip was bleeding, and one eye was swollen.
Herne’s horns, he’d given his littermate a black eye? What the fuck was wrong with him? With Tynan? They weren’t new shifters with no control over their tempers.
But they were shifters in love with a female.
Tynan’s cop-face was unreadable, but the pain in his eyes couldn’t be hidden.
I put that there. 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.”