“So, no betas, omegas, or whatever?” Sammy asked when he had finished, his lips stretched into a mischievous grin.
“Some packs operate like that.” To each their own, he supposed, but it sounded more complicated than it needed to be. “We have job descriptions, not ranks.”
“But you’re the alpha.”
Dominic growled under his breath. “Yes.”
He hadn’t chosen the title for himself. Hell, he didn’t even know how it had started, but somehow it had stuck.
“What about your parents?” Sammy tucked his hands into the sleeves of his sweater and gripped his bottle by the neck through the fabric. “Are they part of the pack?”
Taking the cider from him, he rubbed his hand up and down his mate’s arm. “Are you cold? Do you want to sit by the fire?”
Sammy glanced toward the flames. “Yes, please.”
They moved to the other side of the pit, away from the commotion, and settled down on the bench he’d carved from a fallen tree three summers ago. Tucking Sammy against his side, he took his hands and blew warm air across his fingers.
“Better?”
Sammy nodded and sent him the kind of smile that made his heart ache. “Thank you.”
Leaning back on the bench, Dominic hugged him close as he stared into the fire. “My parents died a long time ago.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Sammy squeezed his hand. “Can I ask what happened?”
“My mother died in childbirth.” Saint carried a lot of guilt about it, despite it clearly not being his fault. “Since she and my dad were bonded, he went shortly after.”
Mages, including mystics, shared some of the deepest, most intense bonds in the paranormal world, but it came at a price. Magic always did.
It would be the same for him and Sammy. If they chose to consummate their relationship and solidify the threads of fate that linked them, there would be no turning back. Once tethered, their souls could never be separated, not even by death.
“That’s kind of romantic,” Sammy mused. “I mean, sad for the people they left behind, of course,” he hurried to add, waving his hands around wildly. “Never mind. Forget I said that.”
Dominic chuckled. “I know what you mean, and you’re not wrong. I have never seen two people more in love, and I can honestly say my dad probably would have died of a broken heart anyway.”
He wasn’t being hyperbolic, and he didn’t mean it as some poetic metaphor either.
Sammy exhaled, his relief palpable, but his smile wobbled a little. “What about you and Saint?”
“I took Saint in.”
“You did? How old were you?”
Dominic shrugged. “Four hundred, give or take.”
Despite the significant age gap, Saint hadn’t been a mistake or a surprise baby.
“Years?” Sammy yelped. “So…how old are you now?”
“Six hundred and twelve this July.”
Sammy’s eyes widened comically, and a little of the color drained from his face, but he didn’t comment. In fact, he was quiet for so long that Dominic had almost forgotten what had caused him to malfunction in the first place.
He was about to ask if his mate wanted another hard cider when Sammy jerked his head up, his expression a curious mix of incredulity and admiration.
“Wait. So, you raised your brother?”
“You don’t have to sound so surprised about it, but yes, I did.”