My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

Graeme's expression flickered from remorseful to confused.

"What?"

"Greta said something tonight that got me thinking," she explained, walking slowly from the bathroom door to come stand before him. He tilted his chin up to look at her, rubbing his hands together as he did.

"Oh? What was that?" he definitely hadn't prepared for this conversation.

August watched the dark intensity of his eyes that returned to being remorseful.

"The plan for the new part of the pack house came up—the one I sketched for you. I mentioned how I could relate to needing something like that at one time in my life," she gulped and looked away from him. "I told them it was because of Alan. Anyway… Greta asked if you had paid him a visit while you were away. She said she couldn't imagine you would allow anyone to get away with hurting me."

Her cheeks had gradually turned pink as she was talking, and he raised a hand to her face, running a thumb along the brighter part of her cheek—sorry for the reason it was there. Regardless of what he did—marking her, avenging her—those emotions were still there to haunt her, weren't they? Maybe they always would be.

"You found them, didn't you?" she licked her lips, trying to will the images of their faces away—but how could she speak of them without having them return? "You went after them?" It was a question that had started out accusatory and turned tearful with her eyes welling again over this. She groaned as they did.

"What is it?" he asked, eyebrows pinching together, continuing to caress her cheek.

"It still puts knots in my stomach. It still makes me fucking emotional. I hate it." She lifted a hand to wipe the tears as they came, dismissing his hand in the process. "You're not denying it?" she asked, avoiding his eyes.

"I'm not," he said softly.

"You got shot, Graeme! You shouldn't have done that! You shouldn't have gone after them! Can you imagine—what if something had happened to you? We have this beautiful thing together now that I could have never imagined having or deserving, and you risked it for them?! What if you hadn't healed from that wound? Then I would have lost my mate due to this… event that happened years ago that's over and yet was still able to reach me, still hurt me in such a profound and even worse way than before!"

The anger at him for this, for what could have happened, fueled her words as they came out passionately, one after the other, pelting him with their truth, and he flinched as he felt it.

"You're right," he soothed with the deep calm of his voice, reaching up to caress the side of her face again. "You're right, okay? Come here."

He pulled her down next to him on the bed where they both turned toward each other.

"If that would have happened, it would have been horrible. But I never would have done it if there were a chance it would take me away from you."

"But Graeme, you were shot!" she argued, the surge of her anger returning.

"I was shot. You're right, but I'm okay," he gave her a reassuring smile, continuing to caress her face. He knew the connection of their skin calmed her, because it did the same for him.

Now it was her eyes that became worried as she looked back to his chest and that area she had felt like the memory of a wound when he returned. She placed her hand over it.

"Who did it?" she gulped, avoiding his eyes again.

"Look at me," he tilted her chin back to him. "It doesn't matter. They are gone. They can't hurt you or anyone else anymore."

"You think they hurt others?" her eyebrows pulled together.

It was something she had considered, of course. The idea that there were others who could be victims like she was… but she had tried not to think about it. Maybe it was just the one time. Maybe when she initially reported it, even though the case hadn't proceeded to a stage where they could be held accountable, maybe that was enough to scare them. Or perhaps they knew how wrong it was after the fact. Or it could be that they were… just kids. Or just drunk. Or temporarily out of their minds…

"Regardless of whether or not there were others, I still would have killed them for what they did to you, I won't lie."

Why did it make her heart soar to hear that? It shouldn't. Killing was wrong. But she could feel the heavy emotions tied to that event flutter and lift from her chest. She had a male that cherished her this much—to avenge her, and to do so only with that motivation in mind. He may have not even told her about it unless she asked.

"But there were others. I discovered that both continued to be predators. They wouldn't have stopped unless someone made them, I am certain of it."

"Wow," she released a heavy breath. "You saved someone, then. I'm sure of it." She gave him a small smile.

"But I couldn't save you," he said regretfully.

"That's where you're wrong," she sighed. "You have done so much more than that."

She intertwined their fingers on the bed.

"Are you still angry with me?" he asked, shifting himself closer to her.

"I don't want you to risk yourself for me," she answered. She wasn't angry, but she didn't want him to do something like that again.

"I will always risk myself for you," he chuckled, and she slapped him on the arm.

"Ow," he feigned hurt.

"Why could I still sense the wound when you returned? Were you hurt badly?" She could see now that he was fine, but at the time it was as if the wound still lingered.

"I was hurt pretty badly," he recalled, and her eyes flared. "I had to pull over to the side of the road. The pain was really intense, and it felt like I wasn't healing like I should."

August groaned and buried her face in her free hand.

"But do you want to know what else happened?" he tugged on her. "I pulled over to rest, and when I finally fell asleep, I had this dream that you visited me. You removed the bullet with your hand."

"What?"

"Somehow you were the one who healed me without even needing to be there, Moon," the intensity came back to his eyes as he tugged her nearer to him and placed her hand back on his chest. "So you see? I was never really in danger after all. I have a powerful fae as my mate."

He offered her a winsome smile then, the dimple behind his beard appearing and causing her to smile in return.

"I don't know how I could have done that," she shook her head, "but if I somehow knew you needed me then, will you trust me about my eye thing? I don't feel like there is anything wrong. I promise you."

"Okay," he nodded, accepting her words. "I believe you. I'm sorry. It's just that you're precious to me. And you're also pregnant now."

"Graeme, females have been having babies since the beginning of time," she told him.

"Not my female," he argued. "Not you."

His hand went to rest against her stomach, and she chuckled.

"You know I'm like two weeks along, right? We probably wouldn't even be able to see it at this point."

"That's where you're wrong, my love.. The whole pack sees it," he grinned, reminding her of how her skin had changed to make this tiny embryo obvious to all.