Page 13 of Fury of Affliction
But then, hindsight was twenty-twenty.
He couldn’t have known then what he knew now, and as Theodora took his hand and led him out of the Hub, Sloan knew he must to find a way to forgive himself. Otherwise, he’d remain mired in the past, unable to move forward, diminishing the memory of Amanda and his son. He needed to honor them in the way of his kind. Both deserved to be here, with him at Black Diamond. To be known by the warriors he called brothers. Males who loved him, and he loved in return. Hiding his past dimmed their importance to him, making a mockery of the family he found when he joined the Nightfury pack.
It had taken time, but now, Theodora’s message came through loud and clear.
Burdens weren’t meant to be carried alone.
Lacing his fingers with hers, Sloan tugged her closer and dipped his head. His mouth touched down on the top of her head. “Thank you for setting me straight.”
“Anytime, honey.” Wrapping her free hand around his biceps, she pressed her forehead into the side of his shoulder. “I have your back. Always and forever.”
Always and forever.
Sounded exactly right.
“I love you, Theodora.”
“I love you too, Sloan.”
And just like that, the last of his sorrow washed away. It would come again. It always did, but as his world tilted upright on its axis, he embraced the truth. Nothing was ever perfect, but with Theodora in his life, he could cope. Could hold out hope. One day the grief would lessen. One day the good memories he and Amanda made before it went wrong would resurface. One day, he’d forgive himself for the loss of his son. Until then, he had a daughter to spoil and raspberries to pick.
Read more of Sloan and Theodora’s story in FURY OF AGGRESSION.
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500 MILES
A DRAGONFURY SHORT STORY
1
MONTEREY, CALIFORNIA—IN A SMALL HOUSE BY THE BAY
He’d told her to stay away.
Said it flat out. Tone firm. Gaze steady. Expression set. The warning clear in the line of his body as he made her promise to run far. To run fast. And never return.
His rejection had been a tough pill to swallow.
She hadn’t wanted to leave then. But this was now. And given the seriousness of her situation, Natalie Kristiansen knew doing what he asked wasn’t feasible anymore. The longer she stayed away, the worse things got. Which meant she needed to be brave and follow her heart. One more time. No matter how much his reaction to her return cost her in the end.
Picking up the duffle bag at her feet, she glanced toward the bank of windows. Tall panels. Framed in black. An uninterrupted stretch of glass that showcased a world class view.
She paused to enjoy it for the last time. West coast currents churned under sunlit water. Rolling waves curled into whitecaps, frothing at the tips near the shoreline. An ache tightened her chest. The ocean understood up and downs, all the peaks and valleys life threw at a person. As she watched the rise and fall, it seemed to her, dark waters mirrored her heartache.Every bit of pain and uncertainty. All her worries as she stood still and silent, struggling to understand the depths of it herself.
Clutching the house keys in her hand, she dragged her gaze from the Pacific and turned to leave. The quick pivot made her dizzy. Nausea kicked up, throwing bile into the back of her throat. A horrible taste surfed into her mouth. She stopped, fighting the need to throw up, and reached out to steady herself.
Keys jangled as her hand landed on the kitchen island. Cooled by the hum of a powerful air conditioner, the quartz countertop slid across her palm. The solid surface helped her breathe through the upheaval. Inhale through her nose. Exhale out her mouth. Wait for the spinning to stop. A circuit she navigated daily in recent weeks.
The topsy-turvy settled.
Her equilibrium returned.
Relieved by the quick rebound, she left the keys where they landed for her landlord, swung the bag over her shoulder, and moved down the narrow corridor to the front door. A quiet click, a sharp tug, and the weathered wooden panel swung wide, releasing her into open air.
The smell of saltwater hit her first.
Warm afternoon sun stroked over her next, chasing away the chill, as she stopped on the landing and looked out over the gravel drive. Toward her truck. Toward escape. Toward what she hoped would be the rest of a very long life.