A Family with His Werewolf Mate (9 page)

"I noticed you didn't deny loving her," Will
finished quietly.

Dean sighed. "That's because I did love her, but not the
same way I love you. In many ways, Maria was the only thing that kept me
going—she and the sons she gave me. She was the only one to understand what I'd
lost. We never really had a relationship as would be expected between mates.
Our romantic contact was minimal at best. Toward the end, she was more my
sister than anything else. But yes, I loved her."

His voice must have held more pain than he'd have liked,
because Will cupped his cheek gently. "What happened?"

"Maria... The whole reason why the two of us were pushed
together so abruptly was because she had a human mate too, a human girl. I'd
tell her stories of you, and she'd tell me about her human mate. In any case,
unlike you, Maria's mate never fell pregnant, and her DNA never suffered the
changes that came with that. We kept an eye on her regardless, which is why we
found out exactly when she died."

It had been horrible. The blankness that had flooded Maria's
gaze that day had filled him with a mix of dread, grief and disgusting relief.
Her mate's loss had struck Maria so seriously that Dean had mourned with her,
but in his heart, he'd also felt thankful it hadn't been Will to die. Even if
Dean hadn't been able to track Will down—he now knew this was because Will had
changed his last name—he'd felt his mate was still alive.

"We went to the funeral together," he continued.
"I held her hand. She was so cold, and I knew that day that I would lose
her."

"She didn't survive her mate's death," Will
guessed.

"She tried." Dean sighed heavily. "She did her
best, for Saul and Finn. But it was so painful, and in the end, she couldn't do
it. And I love you just as much as she did her mate. I know I failed you, and I
don't deserve to make such claims. I know I wasn't there for Jessie when he
most needed me. I'm so very sorry for fucking up every single thing I try. But
if you don't believe anything else, believe this—I love you, and I always
have."

Much to his surprise, Will leaned over him and brushed a
gentle kiss over his lips. "I believe you. Now, get some sleep. You've
earned it."

Dean didn't want to sleep. He didn't want to close his eyes,
lest his mate be gone when he awoke. Will seemed to guess his thoughts. "I
won't leave your side. We won't be apart again, I promise you that. Rest."

At Will's reassurance, Dean could no longer keep his body
from doing what it wanted. He melted into his wolf form, the process intended
to help him heal faster. If Will was surprised, he didn't show it.
"Rest," he repeated as he removed the remnants of Dean's garments off
of him. "Everything will be all right."

His soft hand landed in Dean's fur, and as his mate started
to pet him, Dean closed his eyes. Yes, everything would be fine. He would
recover and teach everyone who wanted to separate him and Will a lesson. He
would not make the same mistake he had more than fifty years ago. This time,
he'd do right by his mate. He just had to.

Chapter Six

Will's mind swirled with everything he'd learned in the past
minutes. His world had tilted on its axis—and yet, he felt it was finally in
the right position, at least in some ways.

He believed Dean's explanation. For one, he'd always wondered
why Dean would have staged such an elaborate deception if he'd never planned to
leave with Will. It simply hadn't made sense. The information Dean had left
behind had checked out, confirmed by Mathias himself. Besides, if all Dean had
wanted was a plaything, he would have never revealed the truth about his
nature. It had been a huge issue back then, before popular culture had softened
humanity's view of werewolves. He'd had moments when he'd wondered if perhaps
Mrs. Fisher hadn't made a mistake with the wife thing. But then, the reality
behind his situation had hit him, and Jessie's health problems had gradually
made Will resent Dean more and more, until the possibility of Dean having told
the truth became very distant in his mind.

In a way, it was also his fault that the situation had come
to this. Mathias's hatred was largely based on Will's own feelings. To top it
off, Will had completely underestimated the intensity of that hate, and now,
he'd gotten Dean in a horrible predicament.

Dean might have said that he could handle this, but Will knew
better. His mate wasn't as young as he used to be. Will hadn't been there for
the fight between Dean and his youngest son, but he knew Saul had beaten him,
even if Saul was, by werewolf years, pretty young. Even if that hadn't been the
case, Mathias wasn't a regular werewolf. He was half-Sidhe, and the magical
part of his bloodline gave him an advantage Dean simply didn't have.

Will had been relying on Mathias's ancestry in the hope that
the Sidhe could intercede on Dean's behalf. It hurt more than he wanted to
admit that Mathias had basically stabbed him in the back.

He wished he'd had some way to contact Finn and Saul, but
he'd been stripped of his cell phone when he'd gotten here, and he didn't think
anyone would give him the chance to find a way to communicate with Dean's sons.
Even if he did manage, such a thing would draw the wrath of the Gathering onto
their children and grandchildren—which was what Will and Dean had been trying
to avoid to begin with.

With a sigh, Will went to the adjoining bathroom and wet a
washcloth. He returned to his mate's side and gently cleaned Dean's wounds,
still visible despite the black fur. Even now, Will could tell Dean had been
shackled with silver bindings, as the burns had persisted despite the shift.

They were slowly fading, though, starting to disappear as Will
tended to them. A weight lifted off Will's heart, only to be replaced by an
even heavier one as he acknowledged these wounds might become far more serious
anytime now.

As if to confirm his thoughts, a knock sounded at the door.
Dean twitched and released a low growl, but didn't awaken. It was probably for
the best, since Dean was in no way ready for a challenge.

Will got up and went to open the door. He wasn't really
surprised when he found Mathias at the other side. "I wanted to talk to
you," the man said without preamble. "In private."

Mathias couldn't possibly be expecting Will to leave Dean's
side, but then again, Dean was out cold so he didn't count. Will guessed
Mathias must be referring to the werewolves who were still carefully monitoring
Dean, so he wordlessly gestured for Mathias to enter the room.

"I'm not sure we can expect much privacy while we're
here," he said as he closed the door. "I suspect we're being listened
to even as we speak."

In hindsight, it should have occurred to him earlier, and
maybe he wouldn't have asked Dean such private questions if it had. But it was
too late to worry about that now, and definitely too late to focus on the past.
It was the future that mattered. "What is it?"

"I just wanted to say... This isn't exactly what I meant
to happen either," Mathias told him.

Will crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at
his friend. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"I don't expect that, no." Mathias shook his head.
"But there's only so much I can do, Will. You have to understand
that."

"Don't give me that," Will snapped, managing not to
raise his voice only because he was mindful of his still sleeping mate. "I
know you, and you've taught me well. I know the reach of your people. Are you
telling me your family couldn't have pushed the Gathering for at least a
lighter sentence?"

Mathias twitched. "It's not so easy. Simmons's
punishment has been... I suppose the correct word would be 'advertised'.
They're trying to make an example out of him. They wouldn't release him, no
matter what my grandmother would have said."

Will wasn't so sure. He'd only met Mathias's grandmother—the
queen of the Aos Si—once, but she'd struck him as that kind of timeless being
who could enforce her will on anyone. But even if that was the case, even if
she could have pushed for more, she had no reason to. Will was nothing to her,
and while she had seemed to like him and Jessie, Will wasn't fool enough to
believe she would jeopardize relations between her people and the werewolves
for his sake.

"You could have at least told me," he whispered,
looking away from Mathias. "You could have explained instead of letting me
hope and trust, and then get here with no other way out."

"I feared you'd do something stupid if I did,"
Mathias explained. "Will, you have to understand—"

"Please, Matt, just don't," Will interrupted his
friend. "Maybe in your own way, you mean well, but... If you do love me,
you will realize that nothing has truly changed since fifty years ago. If
something happens to Dean, there will be very little left of me. So I don't
know if that will make you happy or not. I don't know in what way you love me.
Just... Please... Leave. I need some time with my mate. Alone."

He could have said more, could have been angrier, but truth
be told, he felt exhausted. In his heart, he knew that if Mathias hadn't agreed
to at least try to help him, Will would have never been here to begin with, and
Dean might already be dead. That didn't make their current situation easier to
accept.

Thankfully, Mathias didn't try to argue with him. He
approached Will and reached for cheek, but his fingers never made contact with
Will's skin. Maybe he saw the complete and utter desolation in Will's eyes. For
whatever reason, he pulled away.

Will expected Mathias to walk out of the room, but to his
surprise, the man stayed. In fact, he went over to the couch and leaned over
Dean. "What are you doing?" Will asked, rushing to Mathias's side and
grabbing his arm.

Mathias arched a brow. "Give me a little credit, will
you? I figured the least I could do was to help him heal faster. I doubt the
Gathering will wait the time it takes for him to recover from his wounds."

Mathias had a point, but Will had trusted his friend before,
and that hadn't worked out too well. The other man smiled sadly. "It's
okay, Will. You have my word I won't use any magic that could harm him. You
know as well as I do that it'd be completely unnecessary on my part."

That was true, so despite his misgivings, Will released his
friend's arm. Mathias touched Dean's paw and his fingers started to glow. Will
recognized this power from a time when it had helped him and Jessie survive a
very difficult pregnancy. He watched as Mathias's magic swept over Dean,
completely sealing the already healing wounds.

When he was done, Mathias turned toward Will again.
"He'll be fine, at least for now. I am sorry, Will. For everything."

Will didn't know what to say to that, which was just as well,
since his friend didn't give him the chance to answer. Instead, Mathias pushed
past Will and finally left the room. As the door shut behind him with a
decisive click, Will crumpled to the floor next to the couch. It was cold, and
Will buried his hands in Dean's fur. He wanted to crawl inside Dean, to never
let his mate go, but he couldn't. There was no way, and the bitter taste of
despair and helplessness filled his mouth.

He had a knife. It was the one weapon he'd managed to sneak
in, tucked into his boot. A gun, even one of a small caliber, would have been
too bulky, and he would have never gotten away with it. But Will was too much
of a realist to not realize that he'd have needed a bazooka to bust him and
Dean out of here. In fact, a bazooka might have failed too. Politics was the
only weapon that could have helped Dean, and politics had failed.

He didn't know how long he stayed there when the fur beneath
his fingers disappeared. It could have been minutes or hours, but Will
instantly shot to his feet and scanned Dean from head to toe.

When Finn had been shot, he hadn't immediately awoken, even
after turning back to his human form. But Finn's wounds had been far worse than
Dean's, and Mathias had more experience at healing magic than the very young
and pregnant Jessie. It was with great pleasure that Will took in the sight of
Dean opening his eyes.

"Hey, baby," Dean greeted him with a grin.
"What did I miss?"

Will briefly debated telling Dean about Mathias's visit, but
in the end, he didn't have to. Dean's expression darkened. "Your friend
was here again."

"He came to help," Will said, grabbing Dean's arm
as his mate left the couch. "I... I don't really understand him anymore,
but he healed you."

Dean released a heavy sigh. "Well, it's not like I can
owe him more than I already do. Perhaps he just wants to get this whole thing
over with."

Fear coursed through Will and he started to tremble. He was
terrified that Dean's life would be the 'whole thing' that would end. He could
too easily imagine losing Dean for good, and he barely even dared to hope for
any other result.

Dean wrapped his strong arms around him and held him close.
"Shush. Don't be scared. I told you I won't let anyone separate us again,
not this time."

"You might not have a choice," Will offered.
"Dean... I... I..."

There were so many things he wanted to say, and he had no way
to vocalize them. He clutched Dean's shoulders fiercely, desperate, wishing
that he had the power to always stand in front of Dean and protect him from
harm.

It wouldn't work, he knew. He was helpless here. Like that
werewolf leader had said, the only reason he'd been allowed on Gathering
grounds was due to him being the prize of the challenge. Another cruel joke the
other werewolves had come up with to mock Dean and his human mate.

"Look, I know what you're thinking," Dean murmured
in his ear, "but I haven't lost yet. Everyone here underestimates me, more
so since they know about my fight with Saul."

There was something in Dean's tone that made comprehension
dawn for Will. Of course. Of course Dean had thrown that particular fight.
"You..."

Dean shrugged. "I couldn't hurt my son, not really. When
you are a wolf, you have to fight with everything within you—as a man and as a
beast. I couldn't do it."

He whispered the words against Will's lips, confirming Will's
guess that they were being spied on. Will hated having this intimate moment
disturbed, but he buried that feeling deep at the corner of his mind and
studiously didn't think about it.

"Claim me," he said instead. "Claim me like
you wanted to, fifty years ago."

He was shocked at the steadiness of his own voice, but maybe
he shouldn't have been. In all of this uncertainty, that was the only thing he
truly knew and could be sure of—the need to finally be one with Dean.

Soon, the challenge would happen. Soon, they might lose each
other all over again. And God, that thought hurt so much. He was in so much
pain, because the friend he'd trusted time and time again would fight the mate
he'd loved for the better part of his life, and one of them would die. Somehow,
he'd been the one to cause this—and it could no longer be stopped.

But if Dean died, he wanted their souls to be bound. He had
to hope they'd find each other again. It was the only thing that could possibly
keep him from going completely crazy. That, and the knowledge that Jessie still
needed him.

"Will, are you sure?" Dean asked gently. "I
still... I don't think I deserve you."

"Oh, Dean..." Will breathed out. "I think
you've already punished yourself long enough for what happened. It wasn't your
fault. You did everything you could. I am truly convinced of that."

He saw the truth of it now, saw it in Dean's stormy eyes.
They were the same eyes that had once begged for him to not believe Dean to be
a monster, the eyes of a man and of a wolf—of Will's mate.

"Do you really think werewolves are the only ones who
hold a torch for their unbonded mates?" he whispered in Dean's ear.
"It doesn't work like that, Dean. It never did."

Dean released a wounded noise and pulled him close. Courtesy
of his earlier shift, he was naked, and while the seriousness of the situation
had kept Will from responding before, Dean's touch fixed that. Dean's lips were
suddenly pressing against his own, and made it impossible for Will to focus on
anything that wasn't Dean, in the here and now.

Dean's hands roamed over his side, first tentative, as if
asking for permission. When Will just pressed against Dean, his mate's hold on
him grew tighter, possessive, almost desperate. Will didn't particularly mind.
He fed off that possessiveness, trying to sate his own hunger, the ache and need
that had been building within him for longer than he'd have liked. He parted
his lips for Dean, and his mate thrust his tongue into Will's mouth, tasting
and exploring.

As addicting as the kiss felt, it wasn't nearly enough, for
either of them. There was too much pain and too much hurt to be exorcised
through it. Will couldn't say he was surprised when Dean flipped him around,
and he landed on his back on the couch, with his mate rolling on top of him.