21. Tristan

Tristan

Chapter 21

Fall had always been my favorite season. The deciduous trees turned from green to gold, as if by magic, and even though it was usually cloudy and wet, I would gladly spend hours among the trees. Nothing could break the spell—except maybe an early winter.

September wasn't even over yet, and already frost had taken nibbles of our garden. Poor Damon was working overtime trying to squeeze a few more days out of our growing season, draping tarps over the more delicate plants every night. Ever since the hyenas attacked and the elements had rallied to help, it had shifted something in the air. I suspected we were in for a long, cold winter.

I looked across at where Dylan was laughing with Brody, and heat bloomed inside my chest. At least I didn't mind being cooped up in the cabin this year, now that I had plenty to keep me occupied.

"Fatherhood looks good on you," Shan said, nudging me with his elbow.

I laughed. "You too." We were both on baby duty, giving our mates a much-deserved night off. Pax was still too young to appreciate the festivities, and I kept him close to my chest in a tight wrap, an extra blanket swaddled around him to keep him warm. "Who would have guessed we'd have kids at the same time. Or that I would have kids at all, for that matter." I winced, remembering what I used to be like.

Shan shook his head, grinning. "Oh, I can believe you had a kid. The mate, though, that's the real surprise. I can't believe you found someone willing to put up with you."

I mock glared at him. "It's a good thing you're holding a baby right now, or I would seriously kick your ass."

"You would try," he taunted.

A squabble broke out when Damon tossed an armload of wood onto the carefully constructed pyre Dawn had been working on. "What the fu—dge, dude," she snapped, careful to mind her language around Malachi's impressionable ears. "I finally had it perfect!"

Damon's lip curled. "It's not my fault you're such an ass—et to our pack." I snorted. Yeah, he definitely wasn't going to say asset.

Fights were bound to break out from time to time when a group of people lived and worked together day in and day out in such a small space. Not this time, though. Stuart stepped between them and placed a hand on Damon's chest. They shared a long look, warm enough that I was tempted to blush. Finally, Damon turned to Dawn and said, "Sorry about that. I'll try to be more careful where I put the wood."

She nodded, appeased. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

Stuart nodded, pleased with himself on a job well done, but before he could walk away, Damon caught his wrist and dragged him back. He spoke low in Stuart's ear, and all I heard was, "Stay," before the rest of his words were plucked from the air and carried off on the wind.

Shan and I shared a look. "About time," I muttered from the corner of my mouth. Those two had been dancing around each other for years. I knew Damon was self-conscious about being a beta, and that was the real reason he'd held off on making a move for as long as he had, but I also knew Stuart couldn't care less about his designation. They would make it work.

Night descended, and the bonfire was lit. Everyone was drinking and laughing and having a good time. What might've driven me crazy last year now brought me the best kind of peace. I rocked back and forth to a tune no one else could hear, soothing my son and keeping him asleep and calm. Not that he was ever anything but calm. It was almost creepy that he was as quiet as he was. He wasn't scared by loud or sudden noises, didn't fuss when he was hungry, rarely woke up at night. He was the embodiment of his name—peaceful. If it weren't for Vesta's pronouncement about who he was destined to become, I might've been worried that his demeanor wasn't more typical of a baby. As it was, though, I simply marveled at the way he watched and listened, taking it all in.

The wind gusted, blowing leaves through the clearing, and I turned to block the worst of it from Pax, even though he seemed warm and snuggly, not at all bothered by the cold. Goosebumps lifted across the back of my neck, but it had nothing to do with the wind. Vesta was here.

She was later than she usually was, and she moved with slow, shuffling steps. She seemed to be leaning more heavily on her walking stick. She approached me cautiously. "I hope you are not angry with me," she said shyly.

I frowned. "Grandmother, why would I be angry?" I was more curious why she would think that in the first place. Couldn't she tell what I was thinking without asking? She didn't seem herself.

She sighed wearily. "Help me sit?" I eased her down onto a cut-stump stool then dragged another stool over to sit beside her. She held her hand out, and I took it in mine. "It is not always easy to see beyond the world as you know it. It can be a burden knowing what is coming and being unable to avoid it. I am sorry that fate chose your Pax to be the next seer. You never asked for that, and neither did he."

I squeezed her hand gently. She felt frail suddenly, older somehow than mere months ago. "I don't blame you, Vesta. Just because you saw it coming, that does not mean you caused it. And even if it could've been avoided, I would never dream of changing a thing. You brought me to the love of my life; how could I ever be mad about that? And Pax is the most precious, sweet baby, and we all adore him. He will no doubt face challenges as he grows up that I could not possibly imagine, but don't we all? I could not have prepared myself for losing my parents, my sister, my pack. The best we can do is teach him to appreciate the good days, to live in the present and not get caught up in the what-ifs of the future."

"Easier said than done," Vesta said sadly, leaning her head on my shoulder. "I'm so tired, Tristan." She yawned loudly, before her breathing evened out, deepening into sleep.

Little Malachi, with his unruly curls and grubby bare feet meandered over and sat by my feet, leaning back on my shins. He was worn out after running in circles for the past hour, and now with a full belly, he was running on fumes.

I smiled down at him, loving how surrounded I was by family. So many things were changing, I could feel it, so I told myself to savor this feeling.

As Vesta dozed on my shoulder, I signaled to Shan that the pack should go for their customary run through the forest. Vesta would not be doing her usual blessing tonight; she simply didn't have it in her. She'd always been old, but this was the first time she'd actually seemed like it.

Out of respect for our shaman, my packmates stripped their clothes off quietly, took their fur, and padded almost silently into the trees. I would stay here, watching over Vesta and the kids.

Dylan, however, came to sit beside me, carrying Wynn so that Brody and Shan could run.

"You can go for the run," I whispered, trying not to wake the elder at my side. "I can take Wynn, I don't mind."

"I'd rather stay here with you," he said, just as softly. "Will you keep me warm?"

"Always." I wrapped my arm around him and drew him closer.

Movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention. Even before I turned to look, I knew who it was by scent alone. Jude was standing off by himself at the far edge of the clearing, beside his tent. He yanked off his shirt and tossed it down, staring at the ground at his feet. He looked… broken.

"Is he okay?" Dylan asked. "Should we… invite him over?" I understood his hesitation. Jude was a hard man to truly get to know. Even when he was outwardly smiling, he kept his walls up high. These last couple weeks had been worse than usual. He was pulling away from the pack, spending more time as his wolf. I'd seen his envious looks when he watched Shan with Brody, me with Dylan. He was lonely.

Jude dropped to all fours, his dark fur like liquid shadows, and trotted into the trees away from where the others had gone. Dylan made a move to call out to him, but I stopped him with a hand on his thigh. "Let him go," I said softly, watching him slip away into the woods, alone.

Dylan was particularly aware of loneliness, and I knew he was remembering what he'd felt like before we met. "I hope he finds what he's looking for," he said sadly.

"Me too…" I looked down at Pax as he sighed in his sleep, mirrored by Vesta. Maybe they knew what future Jude had in store. Whatever it was, I hoped it would bring him peace. He deserved it more than most—certainly more than I did.

I pulled Dylan in for a slow kiss, as best as I could being unable to move from my spot, then I looked up into the starry sky above and dreamed of all the winters (as well as springs, summers, and best of all, falls) to come. I might not have been able to see the future, but I just knew the years ahead would be filled with love.

The story continues with Jude's story in Rejected Wolf

No matter how deep you bury your past, the truth will always be unearthed… especially if fate has anything to say about it.

Alpha wolf shifter Jude wants nothing more than a family of his own. He's watched his friends pair off with their fated mates. They have it all—love, babies, and the whole stupid happily ever after. But when will it be his turn? It's not fair! It's probably karma for all the mistakes he's made. If he hadn't kept his past a secret this whole time, maybe then he would finally deserve peace. At first, all of it was too fresh, too painful to revisit, except it never seemed like the right time to bring it up. But now, years have passed, and it just feels awkward to say anything after all this time, so he just keeps it to himself where it festers and rots inside him. Yep, must be karma. Because when he finally catches a whiff of the one fated to be his… it certainly feels like punishment. Because his mate is the one thing he can't possibly forgive. He's human.

When human omega Morgan sees a wolf turn into a man (before promptly growling in a totally grumpy alpha way and disappearing into the woods), he doesn't question it for a second, because deep inside he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt—that wolfman belong to him. "He's mine," he tells his therapist, before being handed a prescription for antipsychotics. "He's mine," he tells the bartender pouring him his third drink. "He's mine," he tells the total stranger sitting next to him, just because he looks mildly interested and seems to be listening. Now, if only he could find his wolf again so he could say it again for him.

Rejected Wolfis the third book in the Grim Wilds series by bestselling author Trisha Linde. It's an m/m, mpreg, shifter romance series, wrapped in magic and lore. It features a grumpy alpha who refuses to accept the mate fate has given him (even though fate totally knows what they're doing), an omega with golden retriever energy who is too damn stubborn to listen to that nonsense, a destined couple with precisely zero in common (including species), and a painful past brought full circle so it can finally be put to rest.

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