Healing of the Wolf

by Cherise Sinclair

  Maybe it would be all right. Even if he couldn’t lifemate her, he could still love her. Maybe love her a little less. That would work, wouldn’t it?

  Would she see it that way?

  Dread made his bones feel as if they’d shatter at a blow.

  “Are you feeling all right, Donal?” She stepped back, holding his hands between hers.

  “Sweetling, we need to talk.” He squeezed her fingers and led the way out of the tent.

  A hemlock and Douglas fir grove at the tree line provided shade from the afternoon sun.

  Finding a flat piece of ground, she sat down beside him and waited. The light teased red glints from her rich brown hair. Her nose and cheeks were pink from sunburn.

  After a second, as peace seeped into him, he realized she’d taken his hand again. He could feel how much she loved him.

  The knowledge might break him into pieces.

  “Can you tell me what’s wrong?” she asked softly.

  “There was a two-car accident last night…” He went through the injuries. The whole mess.

  “Oh, Donal, did one of them die?” Her hand tightened on his.

  His unhappiness had led her to believe he’d lost someone.

  In a way, he had. He might lose her.

  “No, but it was far too close. You know I get power from females I’ve mated with—which is why I mate a number of females at every Gathering.”

  She nodded briskly. “Right.”

  Then she realized exactly what he was saying. Her expression went blank in a way he hadn’t seen in a while—because it was a defense she used when she was afraid.

  He grimly continued, setting it out for her. Eliminating his own happiness. “There are times I need power from more than one female. When there are multiple injuries, if I can’t get enough power, then shifters will die.”

  She swallowed. “You saw me talking to Gawain.”

  “Yes.”

  “Lifemates don’t attend Gatherings because they mate only with each other. If you lifemated, you’d have only one female for your source.”

  Unable to speak, he nodded.

  The pain growing in her eyes was echoed by the pain in his heart. The bond between them—and it was there—felt as if it was being pierced by sharp fangs.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Tynan’s voice was the harshest growl Donal had ever heard.

  * * *

  Pressing a hand to the ache in his chest that had drawn him to this spot, Tynan looked at his brother and saw only misery. He turned to their female and saw the same expression in her face.

  “What’s happened, little wolf?” Going down on a knee, he reached for her hands. The soft little hands that had been all over his body last night even as she’d giggled and told him they were ummming. Drunken ummming, no less.

  He’d never laughed so hard during a mating before.

  Now, she looked as if someone had gutted her. Instead of taking his hand, she rose and backed away. From him. Tears filled her eyes. “To see you two with others… I don’t think I can handle that.”

  “Handle what?” Rising, Tynan saw her gaze was on Donal. “Donal?”

  “I had to explain.” Donal stared at the ground.

  “Explain what?” By Herne’s hairy hocks, someone had better—

  “I…I need to think.” And Meggie fled as if a grizzly was on her heels.

  Tynan turned to his littermate. “What did you say to her?”

  The way Donal rubbed his cheek with his palm said he was equally distressed. He pushed to his feet to look at Tynan. “We had a two-car accident last night. The cars skidded off the road and down a steep ridge. Multiple breaks, lacerations, internal injuries. I ran out of power, brawd.”

  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.”

  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 dreams.

  For guilt.

  Donal’s shoulder rubbed against Tynan’s. Here was warmth. The rightness of the brother-bond. “How do I make this right for you, brawd? Without power…”

  “If a healer doesn’t have enough power, some shifters will die.” Tynan’s voice was dispassionate. Level. “You have more power than Mother ever did. Why is that?”

  Donal blinked as the question went a different direction than his well-reasoned, too-familiar arguments. “No one knows why healers have different levels of power. It’s not because of size or gender. I always thought it was partly from how much a healer cares.”

  “I heard Mother had a lot of power when she was younger.”

  “So she said. Maybe storage diminishes with age.” Donal frowned, thinking of his apprenticeship. Master Quany had been ancient—and immensely powerful.

  “Doubtful. I met healers in Ireland whose powers remained the same or grew as they aged. Most were lifemated.”


  “Lifemated?” Had he ever met lifemated healers? After Mother grew too irritable to teach, Donal had apprenticed with Master Quany. The old male hadn’t been mated. When traveling, Donal had met a few healers in passing, but hadn’t bothered to ask if they were mated or not.

  Still… “Lifemating means only one person provides additional energy.”

  “Aye, that’s what it means.” Tynan studied Donal. “Let’s play with numbers. As she grew older, our mother possessed little energy of her own, had no lovers to supply more, and she died younger than most Daonain. Probably because she felt useless and unloved.”

  The thought of being so reduced as a healer and as a shifter was painful. Donal could understand why she’d simply let herself die. “Go on.”

  “The two Irish healers in my village were over a hundred. Strong and stable in power. Lifemated and able to draw on their mate.”

  Where was he going with this?

  Tynan nudged his shoulder. “I assume the lifemated healers might lose some patients in a disaster since they have only their bonded mates to call on. But, Donal, how many were lost because our mother had no one, died early, and left no healer in the village at all?”

  Donal pulled in a breath. “That’s a different way of looking at it.”

  Hope sparked to life inside him.

  Tynan’s voice softened. “The Irish healers were happy, Donal. Beloved by the town and their lifemates and their cubs.”

  Their cubs. He’d always wanted cubs. A mate to share with Tynan. The idea of such a gift was…impossible.

  “I’m not giving her up—or you, either.” Tynan rose. “Think about it.”

  The water was cold on her paws as Margery splashed through the stream toward the black bear on the other bank.

  Oliver.

  She gave a yip to tell him it was her and saw him freeze.