Dominic couldn’t speak to the warmth of the fabric, but the deep burgundy created a striking contrast against the changeling’s skin that made him look even more ethereal.
“He’s probably fine.”
“Go ask him,” Saint said through clenched teeth. He took another swallow of his beer and shook his head. “Stop making it harder than it needs to be.”
He was right, of course, which didn’t make it any easier to hear. Dominic had always prided himself on being calm under pressure, but he’d been fumbling this whole mating thing since the moment he had met Sammy. So worried about doing the wrong thing, he had talked himself right into inaction.
He had built this pack from the ground up. He had taken a struggling supply store and turned it into a thriving construction business. He had led his wolves into battle against vampires, demons, and some of the most bloodthirsty Otherlings in the paranormal world.
Surely, he could talk to one changeling.
“That’s the spirit.” Saint chuckled around the lip of his bottle. “Go get him, tiger.”
Rolling his shoulders to release the tension in his back, he strode forward with a determined gait, slowing only when a group of toddlers darted in front of him. Distracted, he had taken his eyes off Sammy for only a moment, but that had been enough time for the changeling to notice his approach.
Sammy hugged himself, his fingers gripping his upper arms, and smiled in a way that made everything feel a little brighter. “There you are.”
The admission that his mate had been missing him filled him with deep satisfaction. It also made him feel like an asshole.
“Sorry I left you to deal with everyone on your own.”
“That’s okay. As the alpha, I’m sure you’re really busy.”
Sammy had given him the perfect out, but he didn’t deserve the generosity. “No. I was avoiding you.”
“Oh.” His face fell, contorting into a mask of confusion and hurt. “Well, that was blunt. Is there a reason?”
“Because I’m a jackass.” Giving in to the instinct, he slid his arm around Sammy’s back and drew him closer, sighing when his nervous system finally unclenched. “I don’t know how to talk to you, and I’m worried I’ll say the wrong thing.”
“That’s kind of sweet.” Sammy shuffled forward, closing the last few inches until their bodies pressed together from sternum to hips. “If it helps, just know that I work in customer service. I’m not easily offended.”
Infected by his laughter, Dominic chuckled and tightened his arms around him. “Are you enjoying the party?”
“Very much. Everyone is really nice, and the food is amazing.” He popped his head up, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Have you tried the apple fritters?”
“I haven’t.” He’d been too busy watching Sammy to eat anything. “Good?”
“Oh, my gods, they’re perfect. Tart, not too sweet, and they melt in your mouth.” Rocking back, he tilted his head, his lips pursed in contemplation. “I wonder if I could get the recipe.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Really?” He lit up like the morning sky and hugged Dominic fervently around the waist. “Thank you.”
They stood that way for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms as they watched the flames from the bonfire lick the sky. Conversation and laughter thrummed in the background, and music played from an old stereo on a nearby log.
“How are you feeling?” Sammy asked after a while, his tone hesitant, as if trying to forget the reason for the question.
“Good as new.”
The bastard had nicked his lung and splintered a rib. He hadn’t just been aiming to hurt him. He’d wanted to kill him, and if Dominic had been anyone else, he might have succeeded.
As it stood, though, he’d healed quickly without so much as a scar for a souvenir. Honestly, he was more pissed off that the siren had gotten the jump on him than anything else.
“And the…the body?”
“I took care of it.” Stepping over a log, Chapel joined them and passed Sammy a bottle of hard cider. “Stop worrying so much.”
“It’s not that,” Sammy told her. He scraped his thumbnail across the label on the sweating glass. “I just never thought he would do something like that.”