by Dessa Lux
“I’m not going back to school and I don’t want to look for a mate,” Devon added, while he was on a roll. “That’s not what I have to figure out.”
“The pack can support you as long as you need,” his father said. “Especially while you’re raising a baby. You don’t have to worry about school or marriage.”
Devon nodded firmly, even as he felt a little unmoored. Were these actually his parents? Had he broken them completely by disappearing for all those months?
“If we’re going to go stay in a hotel, we’ll need to call regularly,” his mom put in, and, Devon smiled in honest relief at the sound of her negotiating. “Daily, plus pictures or texts. And we’ll visit... once a week?”
Devon nodded. He wanted to be able to push back, to make some argument or counter-proposal, but honestly that sounded fine. Still, he tried to keep his tone businesslike. “Calls and texts are fine, and one visit a week sounds good.”
“Then we’ll be arranging a car for you today,” his dad put in. “You can’t be stranded out here alone if we’re only going to see you once a week. If we can’t get a car for you today, bringing the car as soon as possible doesn’t count as a visit.”
Devon rolled his eyes—of course they would have a schedule, they would visit exactly once every seven days—but nodded. “Okay, okay, yes.”
He didn’t know how to drive on the right and didn’t know if Harry had ever even been in a car before his parents brought them out here; Harry was indiscriminately freaked-out-but-controlling-it about a lot of things. But Devon didn’t think which side they drove on was going to matter much on the tiny lanes around here, and if he had to go farther he’d deal with it when the time came.
His mom put her hand out to shake on the deal, and Devon grinned and shook, only to be tugged into yet another hug. His dad joined in this one, both of them nuzzling at his cheeks and throat to get his scent. Devon submitted to it, still trying to process the fact that he’d told his parents what he wanted and it worked.
If he’d just done that in the first place...
But he remembered how impossible it had seemed before. And if he’d learned this lesson some other way, then the baby he was carrying wouldn’t exist, and Harry would still be encased in ice in the Arctic, and Lir...
Well. There was no point in dwelling on the way things hadn’t happened.
*
It was quiet at the cottage; it took him most of a day to realize that he was trying to hear waves. He kept the windows open for the sound of wind blowing in the trees and insects buzzing. With werewolf hearing, he could pick up the sounds of the cars passing on the main road, and the neighbors in their scattered cottages, but there was no one closer than a half mile in any direction.
At night he could see almost as many stars as he’d seen at sea, and the face of the moon shone down brightly. He’d rarely been aware of the moon on the island; with no other wolves around it hadn’t seemed important to mark the full moon, and Lir usually made the rain come at night so that he rarely saw it anyway. Devon had had so many other reasons to feel horny or tired or any of the other things the moon’s ebb and flow normally made him feel, he hadn’t even noticed its effect on him.
Now, in this quiet little place on land, sharing a home with another omega werewolf, the moon’s pull felt suddenly pronounced. And, of course, soon it would be an even bigger concern.
Werewolves, especially omegas, nearly always gave birth under a full moon.
The midwife came to visit when they had been at the cottage three days. Devon wasn’t sure what his parents had told this cheerful middle-aged omega, but he said simply, “I hear estimating the due date may be a bit tricky? Let’s have a look and see what we can find out.”
After a lot of measuring and prodding and listening, and getting Devon’s best guess about his heat—which had also been under a full moon, likely the first after he went into the sea—the midwife studied a calendar.
“I don’t think it will be this moon, though babies do love to surprise us and with your first, you might just be carrying this one tight. Take it easy this moon, don’t stray too far—I expect you’ll be ending the next moon with your baby in your arms.”
Devon nodded. That made sense, and matched his own calculations, more or less. Somehow he didn’t feel reassured, as he looked down at his own belly, rounded out but still small. He felt the baby moving inside him, and thought that Lir might never feel the baby kick, that Lir wouldn’t be with him when the pains started.
He burst into tears, sudden and noisy and uncontrollable.
He had thought Harry was nowhere near, but suddenly the familiar omega’s scent was there. Harry was in his human shape, even, wrapping strong arms around Devon, saying something brisk and calm to the midwife to make the stranger go away.
Devon clung to Harry and sobbed, and Harry didn’t ask him any questions.
*
The next day he walked down to the edge of the lake to sit by the water and try to think.
He had managed to tell his parents what he wanted, at least for right now. But he had also told them he was going to figure things out, and now he had a time limit. The baby was probably coming next full moon, but possibly the one upcoming, and the coming moon was barely two weeks away. The sky would be dark tonight, the moon hiding its face in daylight.
He had to think about what was good for the baby, not just what he wanted himself. For himself he could just drift along, be sad, make stupid choices or no choices at all. But for the baby...
He squeezed his eyes shut again, thinking of the storm.
But he knew what Lir had been frightened of. And Lir hadn’t hurt him, or Harry. Lir had run away himself.
And then Devon had run away, and given Lir no chance to apologize, or explain, or promise to do better.
Lir had confessed things as soon as Devon started asking him. If Devon had just pressed him about where Harry came from, if he’d been less willing to drift along and trust Lir to be doing the right thing, maybe he could have headed it off. And if he’d told Lir that he needed to go back to his pack instead of wishing out loud to a sea god that he could have the impossibility of a pack on the island, Lir wouldn’t have gone and gotten Harry in the first place.
So the question was... could Devon do better than running away? Could he be brave enough to go back to Lir and make things different this time? Could he be a partner to Lir, instead of just letting Lir care for him and try to protect him from things Lir thought he didn’t need to know, until it all crashed down on both—all three—of their heads?
He wanted to. He wanted to go home to Lir, home to the island. He really wanted to have his baby there, to rock his baby in that cradle, in that house, surrounded by the gentle rush of the waves.
It could be different, couldn’t it, this time? Devon would be different, not depressed and helpless and alone. Lir would understand if Devon helped him understand. Lir wouldn’t keep secrets if Devon asked him not to, wouldn’t break promises if Devon asked for them.
And Lir would be as fascinated with their child as he was with the island, would dote upon their little one just like he had always doted on Devon. If Devon kept in touch with his parents, with Harry, with Mar, he could keep his grip on reality, and make Lir keep one too.
It could be different. It could be good.
As long as Lir still wanted him back. As long as Lir was still Lir at all.
Devon’s heart went cold at that thought.
What if he’d waited too long? What if Lir was just... gone? What if he’d destroyed the island and melted into the waves, and...
Devon plastered a hand over his mouth to stop his own too-fast breathing, and pulled his phone out of his pocket.
As Mar had promised, it still had signal, even in the middle of this Irish nowhere. He tapped on Mar’s name and forced himself to take one mostly-steady breath while he waited for an answer.
“Devon?”
His breath went out in a rush. “Mar? Is Lir
—is he still—”
“Yes,” Mar said firmly. “All in one piece. But he wants to see you, Devon. I’ve told him he can’t unless you want to see him, but—”
“Yes,” Devon said quickly. “Yes, I—we need to talk, at least, I need to—”
“Okay,” Mar said. “Good. Tell me where you’re staying, and stay put.”
Devon’s heart was racing, but he stuttered out an explanation of the route from the water’s edge to the cottage.
“Give me an hour,” Mar said.
“I could—” Devon could get down to town much faster than that, in the car.
“No,” Mar said firmly. “An hour. Just be there.”
“Okay,” Devon said, getting up awkwardly from the grass and turning to walk back to the cottage. “I’ll be there.”
***
Chapter 21
Lir almost lost his shape entirely when he heard Devon’s voice coming faintly through Mar’s phone. Asking after him! That had to mean something good. Didn’t it?
He barely heard the words Devon said to Mar, listening intently to the sound of his voice. He sounded anxious, upset, but he said yes, and Lir didn’t really need to know anything else.
Mar was not quite so sanguine, and insisted on repeating Devon’s directions twice, as if Lir could ever go astray when he was searching for Devon. He also stopped Lir when he went to pick up the crate he’d brought.
“Don’t take all of it,” Mar said firmly. “It’s a lot to dump on him at once, and it will get heavier than you think, if you’re serious about doing this the hard way.”
“I’m not cheating again,” Lir said firmly. “But I can’t go empty-handed.”
Mar tilted his head, acquiescing to that, and Lir opened up the crate he’d carefully packed, only to be stalled here on the edge of Mar’s domain, because Mar insisted that Devon had to be the one to call first.
He plucked out the most important of the things he’d packed, the one that was only for Devon, not the baby. It wasn’t much, but he could explain the rest to Devon, what it meant. After a moment, he reached in and grabbed a couple more things, small ones, and tucked them into his pockets.
Mar nodded approvingly, and brought him right up to the edge of the harbor.
Lir stared at the land for a moment, trying not to feel daunted by it. It wasn’t like traveling into one of his brothers’ domains; the edge of it had some connection with the sea, but Devon had gone beyond that, into land that was only and entirely land. Lir would be entirely out of his element.
But Devon was there. Lir had been waiting, though neither he nor Devon knew it, when Devon fell into the sea and needed someone to catch him. Lir could trust Devon now, to catch him safely at the end of this journey into land. He had to trust Devon, or there was no point in going at all.
He stepped out onto the solid ground. He could feel Mar’s presence, and made himself keep going, step after step, hurrying a little. He could taste the sea on the air, still; it was a little like being on the island.
Then he stepped onto the street that would lead him, miles later, to Devon, and he knew it wasn’t like being on the island at all. He felt as if he were suffocating, drying out as if he would never be properly hydrated again. He looked down worriedly at the little gift cradled in his hand—he couldn’t let that dry out. But it seemed unharmed, so Lir kept walking, putting one foot in front of the other.
He felt his strength ebbing, and wondered, as he plodded onward, step by painful step, if he would accomplish accidentally what his father had threatened, and Lir had spent so many months trying to avoid. If he stayed too far from his domain for too long, would his connection with it be severed? Would he become a land-dweller? Mortal?
Would he grow old and die with Devon at his side, and never have to lose him, or their child?
Well. Maybe that would not be such a bad thing, except that it hurt. And itched. And he felt a bit as if he were drowning in all this sunlight; when he had gone a couple of miles he wasn’t sure at all if he could go on, though he knew he had to. He stopped for a moment, leaning against a low wall that ran by the road, marking out some land-dweller’s territory.
He felt tired in a way he never had before, genuinely unsure if he could do something that had seemed rather simple. Something Devon could probably do with ease. Walk seven miles along a road; any werewolf could do that without thinking of it, probably. What good would he be to Devon like this?
But he looked down at what he still held carefully cradled in his hands, brushing his lips over it to be sure that it still held its own moisture.
He owed Devon this much. This apology, and this effort. As for what good he could be to Devon... that would be for Devon to decide.
Lir pushed himself up from the wall and kept walking.
*
He was nearly there when he realized he could sense Devon’s presence. He had been walking up a narrow lane for a while, and there were green growing things all around him, which made the dry air and bright sun a little less brutal. But now he could hear Devon’s heart beating, too, could sense the shape of his life—and the baby’s life, which already seemed to have changed all out of recognition in the time they’d been apart, growing bigger and more definitely-shaped.
Lir tried to hurry, then, only to stumble on the hard ground. His knees hit with a jarring impact and for a moment he just stayed there on the ground, catching his breath. He had never felt anything quite like that unyielding blow, that feeling of smashing into something much bigger and more solid than himself.
He pushed himself carefully up to his feet, only to realize that the ground had actually drawn his blood, and it was dripping down his knees, inky black against his reddened skin.
Lir still hadn’t quite managed to gather himself to go on walking when he heard running footsteps, and then he could see nothing but the figure running up the lane toward him, and he lurched forward anxiously.
“Sunlight! Don’t, don’t, I’m here, I’m—”
But then Devon was in his arms, the round of his belly pressing hard against Lir’s middle, and Lir could only wrap his arms around his mate and hold on with all the strength the land had left him.
“Lir,” Devon gasped. “Lir, what are you—why—why on earth—wait, no, you’re bleeding, what happened?”
Devon broke free of his grip and Lir regretfully let him go, waving back toward the place where he’d fallen. “I, uh. I tripped.”
Devon stared for a moment, uncomprehending, and Lir lost all other thoughts in the joy of seeing him, being in his presence, breathing in his scent. It was like being back in the sea all at once with Devon here. His whole domain had seemed to be covered in ice when Devon was there and angry with him—and now he thought he could feel at home right here in the middle of all this land, as long as Devon was with him.
Devon plastered a hand over his mouth, but he didn’t look upset, or sickened. Still, it was another second before Lir realized he was holding back laughter.
Lir grinned, and Devon gave up and laughed out loud. “Lir! God of the sea, but here you are falling down and skinning your knees like a toddler!”
It didn’t sound like a bad thing. Surely nothing that made Devon laugh like that could be a bad thing.
“I couldn’t use my hands to catch myself,” Lir explained, holding out the rose he’d brought—still just a tightly curled bud, with barely a glimpse of the petals’ color under the green. “I didn’t want this to get broken before I could give it to you.”
Devon’s laughter stopped abruptly, and he reached out and took the stem from Lir’s hand, pressing the rosebud to his lips and breathing in the green scent of it, the hint it carried of the island.
“They were mostly destroyed, after—after what I did. The storm I made,” Lir explained haltingly. “But I’ve been working on bringing them back, so the house will have roses again, like it should.”
Devon’s eyes went wide, shimmering-wet with tears, and Lir reached for him helplessly. Dev
on stepped in again, just close enough to kiss, one hand on Lir’s arm. Lir rested his hands over Devon’s hips and didn’t let himself clutch at him the way he wanted to.
When Devon pulled back, he turned away in the same motion, keeping his grip on Lir’s arm to tow him along. “Come on, we should get you indoors.”
The last fifty yards of the trip were the easiest, with Devon right there holding on to him, leading him, letting him know that he wanted Lir by him. There was so much Lir had to say, but... well, he thought the rose said a lot of it for him, and the rest could wait until Devon was ready to stay still and listen to him.
Lir hesitated at the threshold of the house, observing the thickness of the walls; he reached out to touch the cool white surface. “Is this...?”
“Cob, yeah. The land way, with straw and everything.”
Lir looked over at Devon, wondering if he would rather have this, squared-off and pristine and precise. What if he was happy to see Lir, but didn’t want to go back to the island? What if...?
Devon shook his head, smiling gently, and said, “Come on. You’re still bleeding—is it hurting you to be so far from the sea? I think we ought to get you into a bath, at least.”
A bath was no substitute at all for the sea, but it sounded like the best thing the land could possibly have to offer, and Lir nodded back, words failing in his parched mouth.
Devon led him into a bathroom—rather smaller than theirs at home, and with more of these land-dweller straight edges and sharp corners. The bath itself, at least, was properly smooth and curving.
As Devon ran water into it, Lir was reminded of the last time he’d seen Devon run a bath, and looked around. “Is Harry...?”
“He took off as soon as I recognized that it was you coming up the lane,” Devon said easily. “I believe he’s... giving us our space.”
Lir bit his lip, not quite daring to ask, and Devon shook his head. “Not frightened of you. Or—not that frightened. I think he’d bite you all over again if he thought it was called for.”