Forever

D
evin Owen has come back
from the Dragon Wars a changed Werewolf. For one thing, he's lost his wolf side as well as much of his desire to live. He spends most of his life doped up to handle the pain from his injured leg.

L
ena Knox knew
the moment she met Devin that he was her mate. But, she’d been a child at the time and he hadn't noticed her at all. Now, all grown up, she wants Devin to be the wolf she’s waited for. Not that she has a lot of time for longing with life and home crumbling around her.

A
couple
of heated encounters draw them together, but is it enough to overcome the war wounds they both carry? Or will an outside enemy destroy them before they get the chance to find forever?

A
cross the street
, the porch swing creaked obnoxiously as someone swung back and forth too fast for its old hinges. The noise grew too annoying for even Devin to sleep through. He opened his eyes. When he’d passed out on his father’s porch—whether it was from the alcohol, the painkillers, or the pain itself, he wasn’t sure—it had still been nighttime. The midday sun made everything around him look like it had an aura.

He sat slowly, rubbing his head. It was the seventh day in a row he’d slept away. If he couldn’t get it together, he might as well have died in the Dragon prison. So many had put themselves at risk to save him, yet the way his life had spun out of control suggested he didn’t deserve the rescue. They should have left him in prison to rot.

Devin shook his head to clear some of the fogginess. The action didn’t achieve the desired result, but only added to the dull ache in the center of his forehead. Finally, he gave up trying to make the pain stop. It would probably go away on its own if he just ignored it. If it didn’t, well then, tonight he would have to dope himself up again.

In the meantime, he had to figure out who was abusing the swing across the street. The damn thing needed to be fixed or thrown out. He might be burdened with posttraumatic health issues, but his hearing still worked fine. Perhaps his fellow Werewolf across the street had gone deaf. Even the Dragons wouldn’t be able to tolerate such an obnoxious squeak.

He snorted at his thought as he stood up. Gods, he might as well be ancient. When had forty become so damn old? Staring through the screen of his porch, he found the culprit on the squeaking swing. It was one of his neighbors’ daughters. He had no idea which one. They had several children—all girls. Might be seven, but could be eight. He’d been gone for fifteen years, so for all he knew maybe they were at fourteen. Hopefully they’d continued to have just girls. Females weren’t forced to go to the front lines.

Devin pushed open his front door. His mother would be horrified with how he looked, but he was long past caring. Life went on whether he tucked in his shirt of not. His mother had told him if he didn’t start shaving soon he was going to frighten little children when he walked down the street. She had never seen the crisscrossed scars lining both sides of his cheeks. His beard seemed preferable. Also, his leg, which he practically had to drag behind him when he walked, frightened the children enough.

It took him twice as long as it should have to cross it the short distance to his neighbor’s house. What was their last name? For a second he couldn’t remember, but it finally came to him. Knox. He’d known them his whole life—well, the portion of it before the war. Now he didn’t know anyone who wasn’t in a military unit.

“Excuse me,” he called out, surprised by the gruffness of his voice. The dragon smoke might have done permanent damage to his vocal chords. Another thing to add to his list of issues. Oh well. He wouldn’t be singing in a band any time soon. “Ms. Knox, may I speak to you about your swing?”

A blonde head popped up from where she had been partially hidden behind a damaged pillar. How pathetic he didn’t notice her before. He was really out of it. She climbed down from the squeaky swing and walked toward him.

“Sure.” She had a sunshiny voice to match her bright hair. “You can talk to me about it.”

The door to the porch swung open. It also squeaked and he winced. Did everything these Wolves owned make a racket? His thoughts died as she came down the steps. The Female approaching him stood nearly five foot ten inches. She had long legs shown off beautifully in shorts, which barely covered her curvaceous thighs and a tight, toned stomach not covered at all by her white half shirt.

Her blonde hair fell to her shoulders, drawing attention to the fact that the white half-a-T-shirt also happened to be a V-neck. The Knox daughter, whichever one she happened to be, had cleavage to spare. Her arms were shapely and toned.

But all of this beauty didn’t come close to her extraordinary face.

High cheekbones framed pixie-like eyes. He was sure most people would wrongly describe them as blue, but they were really violet. A color now imprinted onto his soul. Her lips were full and red. She smiled so brightly he could see she had a mouth full of white teeth.

Whichever Knox woman she was, she had just done him a huge favor. The sight of her near perfection, the most stunning example of womanhood he had ever seen, made his cock jump to life. That hadn’t happened in years.

The startling sensation left him struck dumb in a muted mixture of shock and delight.

Devin sniffed the air to take in her scent. Aromas didn’t come to him naturally anymore. He had to work at achieving their knowledge. But this time he didn’t mind needing the time. She smelled like woman, Wolf, and cherries—a heady combination to say the least.

“I’m Lena Knox.” She pointed at his house. “You live there.”

As a Werewolf, she of course knew he’d been on the porch across the street. Unlike his damaged senses hers worked fine.

Lena. He searched his memory. No, he hadn’t known Lena. He’d known some of the girls but she hadn’t been one of them. Probably too young to remember him….

“I know you speak because you said you wanted to talk about the swing.” She smiled again.

He had to say something. “I’m Devin Owen. I guess I do live across the street.”

For ten years he’d lived wherever the war sent him, and then for five years he’d lived in a Dragon prison. Now? Yes, he supposed he lived in his parent’s house and he was lucky to get to do so. Most guys who came home didn’t have anywhere to call home anymore. Forty years old and back where he grew up, before the war he would have been horrified by the idea. Almost everything about his life had changed.

“You guess? Are you not sure where you live?” Her tone was teasing. He tried to remember how he was supposed to act when someone did that.

“Um.” He scratched his head. “No, I’m sure I live there.”

Her face fell. “Are you okay?”

“What? Oh, yes, I’m fine.” He took a step back from her. Between the beard, the leg, and his general lack of social skills, he must seem deranged. “Sorry to bother you. It’s just your swing…it squeaks.” He took another step back. This had been a bad idea. Why had he come over here? Two more steps away. “So does your door.”

“Yes, everything squeaks, and I have no idea what to do about it.” She turned her head slightly to give the house a forlorn look. “Did it wake you? I know you were sleeping over there on your porch.”

Two more steps away. Damn, if he wasn’t running away from a woman too young to have to have known him before he’d gone to war.

“Sorry to bother you,” he called over his shoulder as he rushed as fast as his leg would let him back into his parents’ house.

Getting inside, he closed the door behind him. He. Had. Just. Run. From. A. Female. They should have just left him in prison to rot.

Lena sighed as she walked quietly back into the house. The squeaking swing had worked. It had annoyed him to death, as it should have, since it made her crazy. She couldn’t believe ten minutes had gone by before he’d woken up.

Another minute and she would have stopped before it frayed her nerves.

Her mate. Devin Owen. She’d managed to get his attention, which was the only reason she’d squeaked the swing for so long and worn the stupid outfit. He’d taken one look at her and run away. She pushed out the old battered kitchen chair and sat down. It wobbled. Nearly everything in the house was almost broken. Her father was too sick to mend anything and the money was all gone.

But she’d been so relieved her mate had come home. Even if he had no idea they were, in fact, mated. At seven years old she had known he was hers. He had, unfortunately, not known the same about her. Of course, she’d been seven and it might have been a little sick if he had known.

But now he was home, which was unbelievably wonderful. For five years, she’d worried he died when the reports reached them of his missing unit. So many units disappeared, and only a few were ever heard from again.

She had prayed and prayed to the gods that sustained them to bring him home.

Her prayers had been answered. He seemed battered and confused, but home.

Whatever happened to him, she could help. She knew she could. As his mate, it was her duty and pleasure. They could start out by going for a run together. She would let him get used to her scent in her wolf form. It would make him less nervous…

How had he not known immediately she belonged to him? She wasn’t a child. Nothing forbid him from noticing?

Lena tapped her fingers on the table. Embarrassment warred with determination. He was right across the street and she needed him to return to her. It wasn’t proper for her to go to his house, at least for longer than a brief visit with family present, and she doubted she could draw him back over with a squeaky swing.

No, she was a modern Werewolf. She’d fetch him and bring him back to her house. Her parents were too unaware these days to know which end was up, but their presence would make her plan acceptable.

Lena rose. With her back held straight she crossed the distance between their two houses. Her confidence lasted until she’d knocked on the door. Then she wanted to faint. Her palms got sticky, and she suddenly had to pee more than anything in the world.

The door opened slowly. Devin peered out from the small opening. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you. I shouldn’t have come over. I’m not entirely in my right mind.”

Lena sniffed the air. “You smell sane to me. There are a lot of crazies running around these days with the drug abuse going on. I don’t smell insanity on you.” She thought she heard him laugh but the sound disappeared immediately. “Not drugged out kind of crazy. I’m…well…I’m not sure how to describe it, but it won’t happen again. I’ll leave you alone.”

“No, I don’t want you to leave me alone, Devin.”

“You don’t?” He pulled the door open wider. “Why not?”

She could have screamed with frustration. He still couldn’t smell she was his mate?

“Because I need help.” All true. She apparently needed lots and lots of assistance.

“I’m not sure I’m fit to help you with anything. As I said, I’m not right.”

“You’re fine.” She patted him on the arm and scooted by him to get into his house. A few minutes alone together couldn’t be completely reputation killing. Besides, who was there to see it? Who would know?

He stared at her with a blank expression. Not that she could see much of his face at all. Devin’s cheeks, chin, and part of his neck were completely covered by his brown beard. The hair on his head had grown shaggy and fell past his neck. When she’d first seen him, years earlier, he’d had close-cropped hair and he’d never gone without shaving.

Under his beard was the most handsome sight she’d ever seen. He had a long face, though the cleft in his chin gave him an authoritative look. The summer he’d left for the wars, his parents had thrown four parties, one for each of their children. She had come to all of them. Her older sister, Brigit, had flirted shamelessly with Devin, but Lena hadn’t worried. She known the second she scented him he belonged to her, not her sister.

His tattooed arms were exposed in the black, torn T-shirt he’d fallen asleep in the night before. The ink had to have happened sometime in the last fifteen years.

Two of his brothers were dead—Robbie and Auggie. Devin had gone missing and everyone said Dougal still fought at the front. Lena was so sick of the war. All of the men she’d ever known were gone, dead, wounded, or drugged. No way would she allow her mate to fall into the last category. She could already smell the painkillers in him, and they stank enough.

She would interfere before he took it to the level of illegal drugs. One addict in the family was enough.

“Can you fix things?”

He stared at her like she’d spoken a different language. This might have concerned her, but every so often his eyes darted to the V in her T-shirt. She’d done the right thing showing off her cleavage. Usually, she wore much more conservative outfits, but a desperate female had to resort to all the tricks in her arsenal.

“What kinds of things?”

“Here’s the thing.” A plan formulated in her mind. “My house is falling apart.

My father has started his Departure.”

Devin shook his head. “He’s too young.”

“Unfortunately, no. You must still be thinking of him as he was when you last saw him.”

“Shit, you’re right. Fifteen years have passed.” He jerked. “Sorry about the language.”

When he wasn’t freaking himself out, Devin seemed completely adorable. She smiled. “I’ve heard those words before.”

“I shouldn’t be speaking those words in front of kids.”

Now
his description of her
wasn’t acceptable. She put her hands on her hips and pushed out her breasts even further. “Do I look like a child to you?”

“No you don’t but you were what—two? —when I left? I refuse to think of you as anything else.”

Lena had never thought of herself as particularly sexy. In truth, she never thought about herself at all. Who had the time? At the moment she needed to be sex on a stick or she was going to lose her mate to his preconceived notions. Ideas which must be preventing him from catching her scent as his mate. Annoying reason, but one she could work around.

He had some kind of mental block.

She walked forward. “I was seven when you left. I went to all of the going-away parties that year. I don’t expect you to remember me. But I remember you. I’m twenty-two now. I’d prefer it if I weren’t forgettable.”

As she spoke, she moved forward a little at a time until she stood directly in front of him. She was tall, even for a female but Devin stood much, much taller. Lena had to strain her neck to look up at him. In his arms, she’d feel tiny. It would be nice, for a change.

“Twenty-two, huh? You’re barely out of diapers.”

She grabbed his chin and pulled his head down so she could kiss him. His beard scratched her face, and she pretended not to notice. His mouth pressed surprisingly soft even as it was firm against hers. For a second, he resisted the kiss. But just for a second. Then he took over.