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.

  Dean fused their mouths together, practically devouring Will as his fingers worked on Will's clothes. The sharp tips of Dean's claws nudged Will's skin ever so slightly when his mate lost what little patience he had and ripped Will's shirt off altogether. Despite this, and despite the urgency written in Dean's frantic motions, the touch didn't hurt. Instead, it made Will's nerve endings flare to life with a pleasure he'd thought he would never feel again.

  They'd had so little time together before circumstances separated them, but Will still remembered the moments they'd spent touching, kissing, making love, had relived them over and over in his dreams. At one point, he'd convinced himself he was embellishing his own memories, because everything he'd experienced by Dean's side couldn't have felt so good. He'd been wrong, so very wrong.

  It wasn't better. It wasn't worse. It wasn't the same. It was just... right. Will couldn't have described it any other way, because his mind lacked the necessary thought processes to come up with something adequate. But his heart, his heart knew—just like it had always known. Right.

  By the time Dean finally removed his shirt, Will was burning. He hated that he hadn't had the foresight to take his clothes off before they'd started this. He couldn't bear it, couldn't endure having a barrier between them for one more moment. So many obstacles were already in their path. Enough. No more. Just... Please, no more.

  Dean almost seemed to guess his thoughts, because he broke their kiss long enough to fulfill Will's desires. Will gasped out his mate's name in protest when Dean pulled away, but Dean shushed him. "It's okay, baby. I'm here. Not going anywhere."

  Will wanted to believe that. God, he wanted to believe it so much, but somewhere at the back of his mind, he was still very much aware of the high chance he had of losing Dean. He couldn't breathe if Dean didn't touch him, if Dean left him. He couldn't think. He was young all over again, young and head over heels in love with a mysterious man he'd met under a willow tree. All his painstakingly built walls crumbled under the strain of too much sorrow.

  This time, though, Dean kept his promise. He removed Will's shoes and tossed them onto the carpeted floor. Will's slacks followed, and Will helped as much as his trembling body allowed him. Thankfully, Dean didn't need much help. He was a man on a mission, and he got Will naked in record time.

  He lowered himself over Will once again, and Will gasped as their nude bodies came into contact. Dean gripped both their cocks into his large fist, and Will's vision went unfocused, together with his frantic thoughts. He buried his fingernails into Dean's flesh so hard he might have shed blood if not for Dean's werewolf nature. As Dean started to move his hand up and down their dicks, Will held on, pressing as close as he could under the circumstances, breathing against Dean's lips, whispering things he couldn't really understand himself.

  The pleasure soared so fast and so much that before he knew it, he was coming. When the orgasm exploded over him, it took him completely by surprise, and he cried out his mate's name as his dick jerked, still in Dean's hold. Dean let out a groan of his own and found his peak too, his hot spunk mingling with Will's over their groins, between their bodies.

  Will lay there, pliant and lax after the strongest orgasm he'd experienced in a long time. Dean, however, had something entirely different in mind. Somehow, Will could see it in Dean's hot eyes, and he spread his legs, gesturing for Dean to take what had been his for more than half a century.

  Dean growled, and to anyone else, it might have sounded like a threat. To Will, it was a promise, one that once more, Dean fulfilled. Still on top of Will, he lifted Will's legs to grant himself better access. One of Will's thighs ended up on Dean's shoulder, while the other on the back of the couch. Spread out for Dean's scrutiny, Will couldn't help but experience a buzz of hot anticipation. Dean's gaze was like a caress over his skin, and despite his previous orgasm, Will found himself hardening again.

  Dean's fingers, still slick with their combined seed, zeroed in on Will's hole. And God, that shouldn't have aroused Will as much as it did, but it seemed ridiculously sexy. Dean slipped two thick digits inside him, and Will moaned, because holy shit, his mate was stretching him using their own spunk as lube. Dean and Will had been forced to be pretty creative with lubricant in the past—back in the day, it hadn't been available in every drug store or even at the damn Wal Mart—but that didn't change how much this particular action aroused him in the present.

 

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