Greykin Valley

| 43 | Waiting on Fate

Damon glanced at him as he said, "No. The snow and mountains and forest are all I know; even if I wanted to migrate to an urban area, the only place I'd consider would have to be out here."

Jackson understood. It upset him to think that Damon would never want to see Dawnward, but if his family had been in Ascela all their lives, it made sense. Damon probably felt the same anxiety about being in a totally different place as he did. He'd been thinking more about Dawnward lately—especially since finding Wilson—and although there was a part of him that wanted to go back once all of this was over, the part of him that wanted to stay with Damon was stronger.

Would that change, though? Would his homesickness outweigh his desire to stay with the man he loved?

No. He didn't want to think about it.

He looked at Damon, and when he saw the Alpha's conflicted expression, he tried his best to think of a way to change the subject. "What was your old packhouse like?" he asked curiously.

Damon looked saddened. "It was a large manor in the middle of one of Greykin's larger forests. It was gifted to my family by the Zenith and Lord Caedis when wolf walkers had to flee out here. It had a lot of murals and art either already on the walls or in frames. The master bedroom where my brother slept had a terrace which looked over the valley; we'd just stand out there a lot of the time watching the forest."

Jackson smiled sadly. "It sounds really pretty."

"What was it like where you lived?" Damon asked him.

His sadness thickened. "Well...I lived in a lot of places. The apartment with my parents, then my stepdad's place, and then my apartment with Wilson. The apartments weren't much, but Eric's house was huge. There were too many rooms for me to remember, and from what I do recall, a lot of them were empty or unused guest rooms. The place felt like this huge lonely, empty maze when no one was home. And when they were...well, when Eric was, it felt like a massive prison, and I was always sneaking around like some escaped convict."

Damon frowned at him.

Jackson shrugged and tried to keep the dismay of his past from ensnaring him, and when he remembered that Damon didn't really know much about it, he felt worse. He could see that the Alpha wanted more information—maybe he was curious or wanted to understand—and although Jackson didn't want to keep things from him, talking about this stuff always hurt and upset him.

He attempted to sigh away his despondency and stared ahead as Damon led the pack deeper into the woods. "I...never really knew why before, but it makes sense now," he said, realizing that recalling his childhood was bringing back memories the perception filter had warped. "Eric always treated me like this disgusting little outsider, and like I wasn't good enough for his money or whatever. He never wanted to be seen around me, so I was never invited to the fancy parties or was made to stay in my room when he had guests over. I thought it was because I was just his wife's kid, but...it was because I was a demon."

"Wouldn't he have felt the same way about your mother if that were the case?" Damon questioned.

"I don't know. I guess because she was an adult, she could control herself or hide what she was. But I was just this brat kid who couldn't keep his temper in check," he mumbled sullenly. "And of course, my stepbrother made it worse. Edward and his snooty little friends pushed me around and called me a whole bunch of things, and then when I snapped back, they all went crying to Eric, and I was the one who got beat for it."

Damon frowned sympathetically. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that. My mother was similar; some of the other pups teased me, and although Alaric stood up for me, my mother saw it as a weakness. My father told me that if someone hit me, I should hit back harder. And my mother told me that if I didn't grow up, I'd remain—and I quote—an Omega bitch for the rest of my life."