Unmarked Mates

Chapter 37: "One man's trash is another man's treasure"

I sense his sorrow when I feel these ten years of solitude and emptiness when we rejected Madison and lost Luke, and Drake wanted to die but couldn't do that because he didn't want to kill me. I feel small sparks of joy that were able to reach him from time to time, like Trist's first words, his first drawings, and the first time I showed him how to throw the punch and gave him a ride in my wolf form.

Drake was sad, but still, he wanted to watch Trist growing up; the only proof that he had had once a mate and at least her wolf loved him. But at the same time, I sense years of bitterness and darkness. And then, finally, the scent, the scent of the boy who once saved our lives, who called Drake beautiful and cuddle into his fur for many hours. The boy, whose memory has never left Drake, who was born the enemy and yet showed us mercy and kindness, the totally unselfish act.

And suddenly the boy was standing in front of him again, now the man, kind and beautiful. And Drake wanted to be close to that man again, to feel his warmth and kindness once again. And the boy didn't disappoint him; he once again showed care, gentleness, and love. Drake felt loved again and finally dare to hope that he can be happy again.

I feel tears on my face; I know he learns about my feelings too, years of bitterness and solitude, years of pangs of consciousness because I let Luke die because I was a cripple because I felt I would never know what it means to love someone honestly.

But there is one particular thing I want him to show me. Madison's wolf death or, as the Spirit Catcher said, a murder. I concentrate as hard as I can, and I feel flashes of pain, the extreme pain of my dying mate. Drake buried himself so deeply because he wanted to stop feeling her and missing her. But then, so suddenly, he was dragged from his cell by her howls for help and whimpers of pain. He was trying to reach her. I'm able to get to that sensation, and then I'm pulled into somewhere:

...the dark room, almost empty, plain, and sterile; I trash lying on the floor because it hurts so much; I didn't know anything can hurt that bad. I twist; I can't scream because the pain is too much. There is someone standing in the corner of the room, but I cry so hard that his face is a blur for me. But I can hear his cold voice:

"Just a bit more Madison, just a bit more..."

He comes closer and reaches his hand to me:

"Just a bit more, and your wolf will be dead, and you..."

I open my eyes panting hard and feeling the urge to puke. Looking at my torso and I notice that I clawed on it again; Danny is holding my shoulders, trying to hold me still.

"Julius, are you okay?" he whispers as I sit down, still panting hard." You were screaming on rolling on the floor, I thought..."

"It's alright, love," I take him into my arms. "I was just connecting with Drake, was trying to find out something."

"And did you?"

"A bit, but don't worry, it's alright. Drake is back. I'm him; he is me, finally," I say, standing up to prove it to him.

And he has a mischievous smile on his face; that's when I realize that his face is on the same level as my naked crotch, which makes me hard again.

"I think you have a problem that needs some attention," he says and turns around so his perfect ass is perfectly visible, and I instantly bend over him; we've just had sex, so I don't need to prepare him, but still I enter him slowly, placing quick pecks on his arched back. Drake and I are in heaven again.

Danny POV

As I wake up, I realize two things. First, my butt aches; second, I'm naked in Julius's arms. Honestly, I'm not sure how long we were having sex last night, but this coziness I feel also inside me, and total relaxation is so amazing. No sorrow or shame this time, and yet I feel a pang of sadness; I hurt Bruce last night, I hurt Brandon last night, for sure they felt it. But the worst is that I don't regret it. I don't regret what I did, and I'm not ashamed; I didn't give my consent to get marked, so Brandon, too, should bear the consequences of his own decision.