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He breathes in, the snow crunching underneath his feet as he shifts his weight to his left foot.
Drawing his bowstring back, his chilly fingers hold, aim, and threaten to release.
Not yet. Not yet.
When the hare moves a fraction more, stepping a tad bit further into his sights, he lets go, the bowstring snapping as the arrow whooshes through the winter air. It slices through, causing a startling ripple in the tension, but his prize is won.
Jack smiles, slinging his quiver back over his shoulder. Moving towards the reddening snow, a surge of pride swells within him. His aim has gotten so much better over the years.
He kneels down to pick up the hare by its ears, when the snow squeaks behind him.
Stilling, Jack freezes all movement, watching as the blood slowly comes to a halt. He stares at its unblinking eyes, listening for any sound of breathing, or further movement, glimpsing the reflection of movement behind him.
Before he can turn around, a voice murmurs, too close for comfort, “Hands up where I can see them, pup. Don't try anything funny, or my dagger will be meeting the back of your neck.”
The air is thick with the scent of the Bear. Gods, how had he not noticed before? He's been told that his hunting is too tunnel-visioned, too focused on one thing, rather than the picture as a whole. But how could he have missed the scent of his clan's greatest rival?
Jack chews on his lower lip, wondering how to play the situation out. The knife in his boot is too far down to reach without being seen, and his bow won't do him any good at this point. The Bear seems to be no-nonsense, so even if Jack felt like negotiating, this one isn't having it.
“Up,” the Bear hisses, his voice distinctly male and commanding. This guy isn't used to having people deny him what he asks for. Just like a Bear. Impatient and foul-tempered.
Jack scowls, but cautiously raises his hands. Letting out a low breath, the Bear says, “Now, get on your feet. Turn to me. Keep your hands up.”
One order after the other. With great effort, Jack pulls himself to his feet, resisting all the warnings in his mind to just start running, to find his way home and to the rest of his pack.
Being a lone wolf never seems to do him any good.
He turns, meeting the face of the Bear head-on. He's surprised when he meets his eyes. Bears usually take care to cover up, but his face is in full view. His complexion is pale, like most of the Bears in the region, with jet black hair, cut in a messy sort of way that makes Jack think he did it himself.
They're practically the same height, but the Bear is all broad-shouldered, well muscled. Jack isn't weak by any means—there's no room in the Wolves for weakness—but his form has always been more lithe, more agile. His accuracy has been far more highly revered than his strength. But this Bear could easily break him in half, if he wanted.
Jack hopes that such a fear doesn't linger in his scent.
He steels his own blue eyes as coldly as he can against the unyielding brown ones of the Bear. Jack knows that this Bear isn't all strength—he's skill, too, given the way Jack hadn't heard him approach. Even if Jack is able to get away from him, it wouldn't be for long.
His tongue is heavy in his mouth, as he cocks his head. “Satisfied?”
The Bear takes a moment to snicker, as if amused by his tone. As quick as the gesture comes, it's gone again, and his expression is back to business. “Not at all. Tell me, what's a pup like you doing in Bear territory?”
“I don't think that's any of your business,” Jack retorts, skirting over the insult. He hates being called pup, as if he's a child. “Besides, we're right on the border between our lands. Hare came over here. Wasn't going to let your kind get a hold of my kill.”
“How stupid do you think I am?” the Bear asks him, like a genuine question. “I know where the border is. And this certainly isn't it. So I'll ask you again, why are you here?”
Jack offers a shrug, not breaking the intense gaze. He can tell the Bear is trying to intimidate him, still holding that knife much too close to him for comfort, but Jack has spent years staring down bullies, bullies who treated him as though he were a weak, sniveling fool. He thinks of his left hand, underneath his glove, burned into his skin a symbol of shame upon his clan.
For centuries, clan members had always bore a sigil on their hands, from the moment they had been born. Only two people in the entire realm shared the same mark, indicating that they were true mates. People always bore marks within the clan.
But not Jack.
He had always worn the Sigil of the Bear.
Too many people had looked upon him with scorn, with disgust, the word traitor hanging off the lips of anyone who happened to see his hand. Most wore their sigils as a symbol of pride, a badge indicating that they had a mate waiting for them somewhere within the region. But Jack had chosen to always keep his hidden, to try and erase the stark reminder that he is a disgrace, even if having a mate outside the clan isn't of his choosing.
He's spent a long time greeting people who look down upon him, and even if this Bear is a member of where his true mate resides, he won't back down.
“It's none of your fucking business,” Jack snaps back, his ferocity surprising the other, given the way his eyes widen, just a fraction. “I don't answer to you.”
“You're in my lands,” the Bear growls back, sharper than ever. “You'll answer me, or you'll pay for it.”
In an act of defiance, Jack lowers his arms. The Bear tenses, ready to strike him. “That's just like a Bear, demanding one thing after another. Not even gonna bother to try and talk this out before jumping to violence.”
The Bear snarls at him, “As if you Wolves are any better. You've got a lot of nerve for a dog, after all. Where's the rest of your little pack? Did they leave you behind?”
“I work alone,” Jack sneers. “And I only need one of me to kick your sorry ass.”
“I don't believe you,” the Bear replies. “Your kind never travels alone. What makes you different?”
Jack straightens his shoulders, trying to look as fierce as possible with a dagger held this close to him. “I work alone. Back off or you'll see exactly what I'm capable of.”
The Bear flips his grip on the dagger, and swiftly slashes it at him. Jack jumps back, startled that the other would actually dare to attack him in a time of uneasy peace, even if he is on his land.
Jack's misjudgment causes him to stumble, and the Bear uses that opportunity to grip him by the throat, pinning him to the tree with little effort. Jack kicks his legs up in an attempt to strike him, as well as reach for the dagger in his boot, but stomps on his foot, digging his heel in, effectively cutting off his movement.
He raises the other, but the pressure on his throat is warning enough. Jack breathes out harshly, the Bear much too close for comfort.
“I'm going to ask you one more time,” the Bear drawls, adding a little more weight to his foot. Jack winces. “What are you doing here?”
It would be stupid of Jack to ignore him, this time. Jack is in an incredibly precarious position, and he's likely to be sent back to his clan in pieces at this rate. But this Bear is too arrogant, too demanding and rough and everything that Jack has hated all his life. He wants to wait for help to come, but no one is aware that he's traveled out this far.
Denying him would mean death.
Jack swallows, then, taking a deep breath, spits in his face. “Go to hell.”
The other recoils briefly, and it's all that Jack needs to bring his free leg up, delivering a kick directly into the Bear's side. It's not hard enough to cause any lasting damage, but it's enough to get his iron grip off his neck, and Jack uses momentary freedom to grab his knife, holding it out in front of him as he puts distance between them.
He should run. He's far too aware of how strong this Bear is, and no matter what sorts of tricks Jack uses, he can't overpower him. Wolves travel in packs for the same reason that their animal brethren do—stronger in numbers. Jack, for all of his stealth and accuracy, isn't powerful enough to take him.
But he stands his ground. The Bear throws his knife at him, and Jack sidesteps it, narrowly missing him. Without warning, the Bear tackles him with surprising agility, pinning him to the snow.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“I'm going to tear out your fucking throat,” the Bear growls, low in his chest. “And send the rest of you back in bloody pieces to your sniveling pack, pup.”
Jack can smell the aggression, the need to prove himself, the desire to make it known that he is the one in charge. It's something about the Bears, he thinks. Whenever someone threatens their claim, they become more hostile. Wolves can be territorial, but they know who's boss and don't challenge it.
He moves his hands up to shove him off, but the Bear meets his hands, pushing back down against him.
The minute their hands connect, Jack's left and the Bear's right, he's flooded with something strange.
Jack can feel a heartbeat in his ears. His. But then it's intermingled with something else, someone else, and then it melds together.
Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
His stomach churns, erupting in an army of butterflies that demand release. He wonders if this is how he'll die, if this is what death is supposed to feel like—pleasant, comforting, like returning to some familiar place. But when he looks into the Bear's eyes, he's just as stunned, just as confused.
Does he feel it too?
The Bear releases his hold on him, still straddling him, but he stares down at him in a sense of mute horror. Jack sits up, scooting away from him a fraction, his left hand trembling. Blood rushes through him, his entire being alight with an unknown sensation, and he wants to know, why is he reacting this way? Why hasn't the Bear killed him in his sudden weakness?
“Take off your left glove,” the Bear orders, his voice shaky, uncertain, but still just as commanding. “Show me your hand.”
Jack doesn't move. He keeps gawking at him in a sense of bewilderment, clenching his left hand into a fist. He's struck with the urge to do as he's told, to sling the glove off of his fingers and present himself.
But he doesn't. He fights against the urge, sucking in a steadying breath, before he says through gritted teeth, “You're not the boss of me.”
Even if, at this moment, it feels like he is.
“Take it off!” the Bear shouts, and snatches up his wrist.
Jack wants to pull away, tries to make his body listen to him, but he's unable to move away from the Bear's touch. He keeps his fingers curled in a meek attempt at resistance, but the Bear has no issue yanking the glove from him. His sigil glimmers in the light.
The Sigil of the Bear greets them both. Obviously, the other isn't expecting this. Especially since it's so evident that Jack is a Wolf.
An eerie silence falls over the two of them, Jack's heavy breathing mixed with the Bear's. They stare at each other, and Jack wants to open his mouth to ask what the point of showing his sigil was, before the Bear rips off his right glove, tossing it somewhere else.
The same symbol reflects back at him.
“Mate,” the Bear breathes, his voice low, tentative, suddenly soft. Jack feels ice down his back, and it's not from the snow. A dread settles into him as the Bear sharply growls, “Mine.”
~~
Mine.
Jack barely has time to react to the revelation before the Bear is grabbing him, yanking them closer. His body betrays him with a pure sense of desire, forbidding him from pulling away. Any hostility the Bear had towards him melts, the haze of finding his true mate clouding his judgment.
It's clouding his judgment, too. He can't fight back, can't convince his brain that this man wanted to kill him not five minutes before this. It's not long before a pair of lips are on his own, biting and demanding entrance in a way that's not sweet or tender. It's all demanding, taking control of what supposedly belongs to him, wrapping Jack in his scent that lets anyone who comes across them know that he is someone else's.
“Stop,” Jack tries to mumble, but the words come out in a slur, his tongue failing him. He's lost in a sea of pleasure, swelling in the pit of his stomach, his heart abuzz with the realization that his true mate has been found. “Lemme go.”
The Bear ignores him, overtaken with desire, and he pulls Jack onto his lap. Jack scrambles for purchase in their new positions, his fingers squeezing his shoulders, and the sound of his cloak tearing frightens him. The Bear's teeth graze along the side of his neck, before sinking in, eliciting a low groan from himself that he didn't know he'd been holding in.
He braces his hands against the other's shoulders, trying to push away, trying to make it known that he doesn't want this, and in a fog of excitement and fear, he feels his eyes dampen.
Fuck. He's not going to cry. Not here. Not now.
With a surprising halt, the Bear loosens his grip. Jack lets out a shaky breath, and slowly pushes himself off of the other man, the snow cold and bitter on the palm of his left hand. The Bear pants, and his entire form continues to tremble, as if he's holding himself back.
“Please don't cry,” the Bear says, amazingly soft for someone who wanted to kill him a couple of minutes ago. “I won't—I won't hurt you.”
His body thrums with the need to be in contact with him again. Jack swears out loud, digging his fingers into the snow, trying to distract himself from the need. He closes his eyes, breathing in and out, before he whispers, “What's your name?”
“Mark,” he says, and Jack can hear him moving closer, obviously feeling the need as well. But it appears he doesn't feel the need to curb it. “It's Mark.”
Jack opens his eyes when fingers cup his cheeks, and the brown of his eyes is suddenly comforting, filling him with a sense of safety and security. He deflates, giving into the feeling temporarily as he wraps his arms around Mark's neck, as Mark presses their foreheads together.
Fatigue washes over him, the churning in his stomach coming to a soft simmer. Mark gathers him into his arms, and Jack rests his head on his shoulder without even thinking.
“It's okay,” Mark murmurs, gently kissing the top of his head. “I've got you. You're safe with me.”
He's heard stories of this. He's seen it happen first hand. When true mates are exposed to each other for the first time, the body reacts in such a way that overwhelms the host, causing an inevitable crash. Jack supposes since they haven't properly claimed each other yet, and he stopped it prematurely, it's hitting him earlier on.
The last thing he consciously feels is safe with a member of the Bear Clan wrapping his arms around him, but his body does everything in its power to satiate his anxiety.
Jack falls asleep to his mate's careful breathing.
~~
When he wakes, his cloak is missing, so are his boots, and the rest of his own garments.
He's not naked, though. He's got on clothes that feel too loose on his form, and reek of foreign territory. Jack's first instinct is to rip the clothes off, but considering he has no idea where his are, it's best to keep them on. The long-sleeve comes past his fingers, the collar slipping off his shoulder a fraction.
Jack rubs at his eyes with his sleeve-covered fingers, trying to push the sleepiness away.
He needs to get home. His parents will come looking for him soon.
Even if he is the outcast, the clan never leaves a Wolf behind.
Jack begins to pull himself out of bed, flipping up the covers, when his heart catches in his chest. As if on cue, the door creaks open and the scent of his mate fills him.
Mark steps into the room, closing the door. Without missing a beat, he says, “Don't get up.”
Jack swallows hard, before letting go of the sheets. He lets out an uneasy breath, gnawing on his lip, angry with himself for listening.
The other regards him with a blank expression. He walks over to the desk that Jack hadn't even noticed, pulling the chair from underneath of it before setting it beside the bed. He sits in it, crossing his arms. Jack can't read him at all.
“You should eat something,” Mark says lightly. “You must be starving.”
“No,” Jack sighs. “I'm fine. I just...I need to get home.”
His stomach groans in protest. He grinds his teeth, frustrated with how his body seems to be so uncooperative these last few hours, and Mark reaches to the bedside table. There's a tray there that Jack, yet again, had not noticed prior to this. It's full of fruit.
Mark pulls the apple from it, handing it to him. “Eat.”
“I need to go home,” Jack insists, but against his will, his hand is already reaching out for it. Once he takes hold of it, he says, “Please. My family is going to be worried about me.”
Mark says nothing. Jack throws the apple against the wall.
The chair scrapes against the floor, Mark standing in a flash. Jack is overtaken with a sense of fear again, clawing at his throat, and he's afraid, suddenly, so afraid as his mind repeats, unhappy, unhappy, unhappy, unhappy, unhappy.
He lets out a soft whimper, and immediately, the feeling is gone. Mark's hand is on his shoulder, soothing him. “I'm—sorry, about that. I'm not used to these emotions.”
What emotions? Jack wants to ask, because it seems that all of his anxiety is connected to Mark, now. Mark can't possibly be feeling the same way. It's clear to Jack that he's supposedly the dominant one, the alpha, as they would call it in his clan.
“I don't know your name,” Mark mumbles, as if shy. “Do you mind sharing that with me?”
He phrases the question in such a way Jack's inclined to thank him. It's not a direct request.
In his haze, it was hard to discern why his body was reacting to Mark's demands without his acknowledgment. But now that his brain has cleared to some extent, it's the submissive, mate part of him. Mark's the alpha, that's evident, so that would make Jack the omega, bending to the will of his mate.
He hates it. The submissives of his clan always listen to their alphas, even if they don't want to. It's instinct, bred into their genetic coding.
It's not usually an issue, considering most members of his clan all want the same things. But since Mark's outside of the clan, this could get nasty.
But Mark is kind enough to ask for his name, not demand it. It's one of the few things he hasn't demanded of him in their short time. So he murmurs, “Jack.”
“Jack,” Mark repeats, like a melody, and he finds that he likes the sound of it on Mark's lips. “It's nice to meet you, Jack.”
He wants to reciprocate the emotion, or even the words, but he shakes his head. He begins to bite at his lower lip again, glancing around for a window. The sky is turning purple.
It's past sunset. His clan will be on the prowl for him, soon.
“I need to go back,” he says, his voice on the verge of begging. “You understand, don't you? They'll comb every inch of the region to find me. I have to let them know I'm safe.”
“I'll send word to the Wolves,” Mark states, effectively silencing him. “I'll send word and let them know that Jack is with his mate. He'll return when I see fit.”
“You can't just keep me here!” Jack snaps. “I want to go home!”
When Mark doesn't answer him right away, Jack lets out an exasperated sigh. He throws the covers off of him, not even caring that he's not wearing pants as he stalks towards the door.
“Jack,” Mark growls, the impatience flaring up. Jack ignores the tugging at his chest as he puts his hand on the doorknob. “Cease.”
His fingers curl involuntarily, trying to withdraw, and Jack lets out a frustrated cry as he kicks the door. The pain throbs in his toes, and he leans against the door, steeling himself, forcing himself to keep his face away from Mark.
Jack's eyes sting, dampening by the second. Mark's heavier footsteps pad over to him, before finally, he tugs at him gently. Jack resists the urge to go to him, and Mark asks him, “Why won't you just listen to me?”
“I don't belong to you,” Jack spits, his entire body aching as the words come out. “I don't care what these stupid symbols on our hands say. I'm nobody's but mine. I won't be yours. I won't bow down to you. I won't submit to you. I won't. I won't. I won't.”
His core is on fire. He feels like he's swallowed glass. Finally, his resolve gives out, and he allows Mark to pull him into his arms. His touch quells the fire within him.
“Is that what they teach you pups?” Mark drawls. “That you have to bow down to and belong to your mate?”
“It's how it's always been,” Jack says dryly. “You've been using your voice on me. I thought you knew.”
Mark pulls away from him briefly, to look him in the eye. “What? My voice?”
Jack regards him as though he's playing dumb. “Yeah. Your voice. The alpha. It kind of...commands me.”
The other stares at him, confused. Jack tries to explain, “You...haven't been doing it on purpose?”
“No?” Mark says. “I don't even know what you're talking about. I've raised my voice but that's only to get you to listen to me. It's a Bear thing. We're all about projecting your voice, making it heard, making your message clear. You're telling me that it's been...doing things to you?”
“It's only when you're true mates,” Jack replies tentatively. “When...when we touched, and we found out we were true mates, my body reacted. In the Wolf bloodline, we have an innate social hierarchy. You never really know what you are until you meet your mate. My body assumed omega, and so it naturally assumed you were alpha. So when you command me...”
“You do it,” Mark finishes, letting out a short breath. “Well, that explains a lot. I thought you were just...scared of me. You felt scared. We Bears have this...connection to our mates--”
Jack clears his throat. “We have that, too. Your emotions connected to mine. I was only afraid because I thought I'd upset you. It wasn't...voluntary. Instinctual reaction for us. When we displease our mates, it...causes notable discomfort.”
“Does this usually happen?” Mark asks, after a beat of silence. “Wolves mating outside of the clan?”
“No,” he answers. He gnaws on his lip until he tastes blood, wincing slightly. “I...I'm highly frowned upon for daring to have a sigil outside of the clan. But there isn't much I could do about it, is there?”
Mark pulls away from him completely, his back to him, and something thrums inside of his bones, desperate to maintain contact. He wonders why this need is so strong, never having heard of a case wherein they were so dependent on each other.
He supposes it's because they're not fully bonded yet, haven't fully established the connection between them. The traces of it are there, but it could be so much stronger, so much more tangible, but despite the desperation riddling his skin, Jack doesn't want to bond to anything.
“This doesn't happen for us, either,” Mark says lowly, his tone taking a change in direction. It's darker, now, a fraction more aggressive, and Jack feels his apprehension building. “I'm going to leave now. Please step away from the door.”
Jack gingerly step out of the way, and Mark storms out, slamming the door behind him.
He wonders what he'd done to make him angry.
~~
Despite all of his warning bells ringing nonstop in his ears, Jack can't convince himself to leave. He paces the room at least thirty times, considers jumping out of the window ten times, and wants to break the chair against the wall fifteen times.
Eventually, he finds his own clothes inside of the dresser, tucked away into the lower most drawer. He pulls on his trousers and belt, pulling out his cloak. He notices the tear in the collar, and it's a sharp reminder of what's to come. He shivers, pulling it on.
He's assumed by now that the shirt he's wearing belongs to Mark. The scent of it, the foreign territory, is obviously the Bear that hasn't made contact with him since that first time a couple of hours ago. Despite thinking it best to take it off, Jack doesn't, instead tucking it into his trousers and folding up the sleeves to where his hands become mobile.
Slipping his boots on, Jack sits on the edge of the bed, wondering how far into Bear territory he is. If this place belongs to Mark, and he thinks it might, he's got to be somewhere close to the capital. He had trekked pretty far into the woods.
Glancing out the window again, the dark sky tells him that it's late into the evening. He wonders if Mark kept his word, and let his clan know of his whereabouts.
Standing once more, Jack walks to the door, and slowly turns the knob. It creaks as it opens, and he's greeted with a long stretch of hallway.
He steps out. Easing the door shut behind him, Jack moves down the hall as quietly as he can with his boots on. There's an additional bedroom door that he passes along the way, until he turns a corner.
Greeted by a small kitchen, Jack finds it surprisingly...homey. He's always expected Bears to be rock-hard and traditional, full of weapons and cold and brute strength, but this place seems...pleasant. Like comfort wrapped in a neat package.
Jack glances around, looking for any sign of life, for a sign that someone else is in this house with him, before he makes his way to the front door. He cracks it open, the wind rushing into his face, and he gazes upon his breath floating into the sky.
He could easily make a run for it, now.
Considering his options, Jack leans against the door, flexing his fingers. Without his gloves, he feels so naked, but he hadn't seen them in the drawer. He feels like he should be covering his left hand, but knowing now that his mate is a real, solid thing, he can't close his eyes and pretend it's not there anymore.
A door creaks down the hall, and Jack practically jumps out of his skin, and in the darkness of the little house, he sees a silhouetted form coming down the hall.
When the dim light of the kitchen illuminates the figure, he realizes it's Mark. He stops in the doorway, and his eyes find Jack, leaning against the door.
“Where are you going?” he asks, almost in nonchalance, but there's an undertone to it, prodding and coarse.
Jack swallows. “Nowhere.”
Mark's gaze narrows a fraction, before taking in his appearance. Jack knows he's certainly dressed like he's going somewhere.
“I've already sent word out,” he says, as if alleviating his earlier anxiousness. “Some of my comrades and I discussed the issue, and sent a message to the Wolves. We received a confirmation back not too long ago. They've agreed to wait for your return, so long as we keep them promptly informed about your condition. If they don't hear from you every week, it could very easily mean war between our clans. Not that they're in too much of a position to be bargaining, but we agreed to their terms nonetheless.”
It does rid him of some tension. Knowing his family is aware of his (for the most part) safety makes him feel more at ease. But that still begs the question—how long will he be here?
How long before he becomes fully bonded?
“Good,” Jack murmurs, nodding his head. “That's...good. Thank you.”
Mark seems taken aback by the gratitude, but clears his throat. “Yeah. Are you okay?”
“I'm fine,” Jack says automatically, rubbing his tired eyes. “I just...I'm really tired.”
Tired and desperate to touch you.
He shakes the thought away. Mark comments, “It is late. Though, you Wolves tend to be a little on the nocturnal side, don't you?”
Jack offers him a shrug in return, before asking, “Are, um, you okay?”
Mark raises a brow, so Jack elaborates. “You just. Left in a rush earlier, that's all. Sorry if I...upset you.”
The Bear shakes his head, and he can't tell if he's amused or exasperated. “No, no. That's got...nothing to do with what you said. Here, Jack. Come away from the door.”
He doesn't move for a good moment, the thought passing his mind that he should just book it and not come back. But Mark hasn't yet given him any reason to run, despite being a member of an opposing clan. Cautiously, he steps away, and Mark says, “Perhaps...we should talk about this.”
“I don't think there's much to talk about,” Jack replies. “We're mates. But we're opposing clans. So, naturally, we can't bond. End of story.”
“That's not how it works,” Mark says bluntly. “We can't just...not. The universe would have a fit.”
It already is. Jack's been feeling the effects of the situation since he stopped it in the forest. He knows that Mark must be, too. The pure, unbridled desire to be closer to him is testament to that. Normally, mate bonds don't inflict pain like this, but because they're unclaimed, the universe hasn't fully established them, yet.
Jack knows that once Mark claims him, he'll feel a lot better. But it'll cause too much trouble. It's not worth it, right now.
“But we can't just,” he sighs, waving a hand haphazardly. “I thought that your clan would be more opposed to this.”
Mark shrugs in return. “We may not like the Wolves, but we also know that we can't fight sigils. The universe decided that. It's out of our hands. And, keep in mind, my sigil looks like a Sigil of Bear. Yours is the oddball, here.”
“I just don't want...” Jack deflates, rubbing at his eyes. “I don't...want this. Not now. Maybe not ever. It's nothing against you, I'm sure you're great, even though you threatened to tear my throat out--”
“You spit in my face,” Mark reminds him. “And trespassed. I think we're both not proud of our decisions.”
His answer is silence. The Bear sighs, and suddenly Jack feels a wave of tiredness that isn't his. Mark approaches him slowly, tentatively, as if asking, and Jack lack of movement is taken as permission.
“I think we should...” he begins. “Sleep on this. We're both tired and frankly, very frustrated with this turn of events, and nothing is going to clear up by us bickering back and forth about what we should do. We'll discuss this further in the morning.”
Jack ponders his words for a moment, before he finally nods, thinking it best. Mark turns from him and heads back down the hallway, and he's struck with this sudden paranoia that they'll be sleeping together. Not that he's particularly afraid of anything happening, but just the thought of it frightens him. Sleeping so close to someone not in the pack goes against everything he's ever known.
“You can remain in the guest room,” Mark says easily, as if reading his thoughts. Perhaps he has. “I'll be in my room if you need me.”
He opens his door and closes it, and that's that.
Quietly as he can, Jack heads back to his room, and shucking off his boots and cloak, he crawls back into bed.
The smell of the Bear turns into the smell of Mark.
~~
He wakes with a start.
The dreams he'd been having aren't particularly scary, but once awoken, he can't remember what they were. When Jack wakes up, he's inexplicably struck with an urge, and before he's even fully conscious he's already getting out of bed and gravitating towards the hallway.
Mark's door creaks as it opens, and what little light is present in the hallway spills into the darkness of the other's room. He's hit with the overwhelming scent of his mate, and though it should, it doesn't bother him.
Jack stands in the doorway, idle, unsure of what to do at this point. His body is screaming at him to get closer, but his rational mind prevents him from moving beyond the crease. His eyes remain fixated on what he guesses to be Mark's sleeping form, as if channeling some of higher power to make the decision for him.
Whoever is watching answers him. A few strained seconds pass, but Mark shifts, before he sits up, rubbing at his head. His eyes immediately find the intruder standing in his doorway, and though in the darkness, it's hard to tell, Jack thinks maybe his eyes soften.
There's few words that could comfort Jack in this moment of weakness. He supposes in some ways he's thankful when Mark chooses not to say anything. Perhaps it's their bond, however unfulfilled, connecting their emotions to reach an impasse of understanding.
Mark scoots over slightly, and that's Jack's indication to finally pull up his roots he'd so casually placed into the ground. He glides over to the newly opened spot, and in a surprisingly fluid motion, he crawls into it.
Warmth overtakes him. He snuggles down, and whatever beast inside of him is sated at this newfound closeness. Jack can't help but wonder if Mark had felt the discomfort as well.
Maybe, or maybe not. But Jack closes his eyes and Mark puts an arm around him, pulling him snug against him.
~~
Mark wants what Jack cannot give him. But he doesn't press it.
Since the first night, the pair hadn't tried sleeping apart. It had been an undisputed part of their nightly routine that they don't really talk about. Sometimes it's easier not to talk about it.
He can tell Mark wants more from him. He can tell in the way that Mark pulls away from him abruptly, suddenly, as though afraid of what he may do. The universe demands that they consummate something that Jack isn't ready for yet. He's supposed to want this, and though the carnal side of him does, his heart doesn't.
Jack walks on eggshells the entire week that he stays with Mark. It's all that the two of them can bear. There's always a distance between them, except for when they sleep, as though their unconscious desires will force them into a decision that's irreversible.
It isn't all bad, though. In an odd turn of events, he gets to know Mark a little better. Jack never thought he'd ever be in the position of communicating openly with a Bear, but their conversations are actually highlights in his trip. Mark's such a softer character than Jack ever pegged him for, especially considering the abrasive nature that he'd first emitted.
Fiercely protective, funny, and wholly loyal, Jack wishes that all the Bears could be like him. Maybe their clans wouldn't fight so much if they were.
When the week comes to an end, Jack decides that he needs to go home, or risk being more ostracized by his clan. Mark is hesitant to see him go, though he doesn't say so. He can just tell in the way that his shoulders stiffen whenever Jack mentions leaving, and the way he holds onto him a little tighter at night as though he fears he'll run away.
He lets Mark kiss him goodbye, and perhaps that's a mistake, the contact sending sparks throughout his entire being, and he suddenly doesn't want to leave. But Mark makes him promise that if he needs him, he'll send word, and what a weird concept that is, Jack thinks. A Wolf summoning a Bear for assistance.
“Before you go,” Mark says, pulling something from his belt. “Put this on.”
Without waiting for Jack's confirmation, he loops something around his neck. Jack feels the weight of metal, and it's uncharacteristically warm for the chilly weather outside. He touches it briefly, before Mark tucks it underneath the folds of his cloak, warm against his chest.
An amulet?
“For safety,” Mark mumbles, his hands lingering a second longer on Jack's skin. “Don't take it off, okay?”
Pausing, Jack swears he can feel a heartbeat against the amulet, but slowly he nods. Mark's hands trail down the sides of his arms, and he takes a steadying breath, before stepping away from him. There's something about the creases in his expression, the tightness of his entire form that makes Jack kiss him again, just to alleviate it.
Mark is careful not to touch him while he does so. When Jack backs away, his hands stay at his sides, and he nods to him without a word before he turns and goes back into the house. On any other occasion, Jack would have been offended, but he figures it's better that way for both of them.
Pulling up the hood of his cloak, Jack begins the long trek back to his own territory.
~~
When he steps into the town, he's slapped with the scents and smells of his own kind. It's like a breath of fresh air, truly, but there's something in the base of his stomach that feels weird, too.
Jack is pounced upon by no less than four other Wolves, leading them Felix. His childhood friend grabs him without hesitation the minute he catches wind of him, yanking him into a sharp hug that nearly breaks all the bones Jack has.
“Did he hurt you? Did he touch you? Do I need to go and personally rip out every individual hair on his head?” the array of questions falls from Felix's mouth in quick succession, his hand on his back protectively. “What's that fucker's name? I swear to the Gods, Jack, I will kill him if he hurt you.”
“Fe,” Jack pushes at him, and reluctantly Felix relinquishes his hold. “I'm okay. I'm in one piece with most of my sanity intact. No need to go and kill anyone.”
His friend seems relieved by the news. He seems hesitant to break contact with him, which is evident in the way he puts a hand on his shoulder. “Gods. We were all so worried. We didn't know what he was doing to you, and we knew you wouldn't fight back, because you would probably be a slave to biology--”
“I could've easily been alpha,” Jack grumbles, sour about the implication that he's always been the token “inferior” of the clan. “It just worked out this way.”
Felix pins him with a look that indicates otherwise, and Jack chooses to ignore it this time.
“Regardless,” Jack says. “He treated me fine. We...talked a lot. About what this meant for us. It's complicated.”
“Sure is,” Felix agrees. “How did you come across each other? Was he trespassing--?”
He rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. “About that...”
Stalling, Jack glances around at the other Wolves, giving Felix a pointed gaze, indicating he'd rather talk alone. Felix puts an arm around him, and announces to the others, “Jack and I are gonna go and catch up. Let everyone know he's back safe and sound, okay?”
His friend has garnered enough respect from them that they listen to him, before dispersing. Felix starts pulling him into the opposite direction, murmuring, “Let's go back to my place. Marzia and some others are out on a hunt—they won't be back for a while.”
He guides him back despite Jack knowing the way with his eyes closed. The familiar scent of the cabin fills him with a sense of relief, and the tension in his muscles fades away like a bad memory. He smiles, and he can feel the happiness radiating off of Felix, pleased with his return.
Felix closes the door, and Jack takes a seat on the couch, finding himself at ease in the familiar air. His old friend gestures in a way that leaves the floor open for conversation.
“So, uh,” Jack starts, suddenly feeling embarrassed about this story. “I kind of found him because...um...I was hunting a little beyond the border.”
A soft groan leaves Felix's throat, not at all taken aback by this information but still as exasperated.
Jack figures they're in for quite a long story as that's not even the fun part.
~~
By the end of the conversation, Felix has groaned and gawked fifty times, breathed in and breathed out sixteen times, and stared at him thirty-eight times. Jack's been counting.
“At least you're safe,” Felix says, the first cohesive thought he's spoken that hadn't been noises of irritation. “And at least he's not...a total asshole.”
The words come out harsher than Felix intends, Jack thinks, but he shrugs. In truth, Mark could be a lot worse. He doesn't know him all that well and he's certainly not consciously comfortable with the Bear by any means, but he could've beaten Jack into submission, kept him locked up in his house to use whenever he pleased. But he'd let him go.
“He could be worse,” Jack echoes his own thoughts. “I don't know when I'll see him again. But, Felix, uh...what's it supposed to feel like when you find your mate?”
Felix's eyes soften fondly. “When I found Marzia, it was like the whole world had exploded, and she was all that mattered. I didn't even care that I was an omega in that moment. All that mattered to me was that she became the light of my life, and I didn't want anything else in this world but to make her happy every second of her life.”
He pauses, looking at Jack, and Jack wonders if that's what it feels like, with someone in one's own clan and bloodline. He certainly hadn't felt something so powerful with Mark.
“For me,” Jack murmurs. “It felt like fire. Like something ignited within me. I felt two heartbeats, not one. And I got all of these feelings that weren't mine. This swell of desire and addled lust.”
“Well, I mean,” Felix laughs. “That's pretty normal for when you first meet. But when you bond, and you become true mates, it changes.”
His friend pins him with another look, as though suddenly realizing something. “Jack...you bonded with him, didn't you?”
Jack knows he left that part of the story out. He gnaws on his lower lip, becoming fixated with his hands and the creases of them and the glint of his sigil on his hand. Felix asks again, “Didn't you?”
“It's complicated,” he breathes out. “We didn't—I was scared--”
“No wonder you're so high strung,” Felix mumbles. “Your body is probably freaking the fuck out because it can't feel the connection even though it knows your mate is so close by.”
“Please don't tell anyone,” Jack says, combing a hand through his hair. “Just don't bring it up. Don't breathe a word of it. I don't want anyone to know about this shit right now. I don't want to deal with any of this shit right now. I just want to be Jack.”
Felix reaches out, placing a gentle hand on his knee. It's the most gesture he can offer without Jack tensing up. “You'll always be Jack to me. I'm just—I'm glad he didn't force you. I mean, I'm surprised—I thought for sure...but that's besides the point. I never thought I'd say this, but...this Bear seems alright.”
“Mark,” he hums, the name rolling off his tongue in a lull. “His name. It's Mark.”
His friend opens his mouth to say something else, when a sharp, new scent washes over the both of them. Both of them look up, and the door swings open, Marzia strolling in.
Felix is on his feet in a second, and some part of Jack stirs, recognizing her authority. He stands, and normally Marzia would wave them both down, but her gaze is hard, conflicted, and tight.
“Alpha,” Felix mumbles, noticing her tension. He approaches her, placing a hand to her cheek, and she looks to him. “What's wrong?”
Marzia leans into his touch, taking solace in it. Jack thinks it's amazing, how easily she's soothed by her mate's touch. She lets out a sigh, shaking her head. “The Lynx. While on the hunt, they ambushed us. We weren't well equip to fight them off—they...they kidnapped a few of the younger ones—Sam, Maya, and Edgar. We tried to track them down, but they've hidden themselves well. We're hoping—we're hoping that we'll hear word from them soon. Ransom, probably. Bastards.”
Jack cringes inwardly at the sound of the word. Marzia never swears—despite her status as an alpha, she takes authority by use of action rather than words. He knows she must be truly angry if she says anything of the sort. Felix pulls her into his arms, stroking a hand down the back of her hair, and she lets out a frustrated sigh, but closes her eyes anyway at his touch.
When she opens them, her gaze fixates on Jack. She offers him a small smile. “Jack. It's good to see you're well.”
Marzia pulls away from Felix to offer him a hug, and he takes it without question. If Felix is a brother to him, then Marzia is certainly a sister—they've all known each other for so long. They're in the same pack division. “I'm sorry I couldn't welcome you on a more positive note. You're okay?”
“More than okay, given these circumstances,” Jack replies, deciding the full story can wait for later. Marzia has enough on her mind without Jack adding anything to the mix. “But I'm more worried about the kids. How are we going about this?”
“I don't know yet,” Marzia rubs at her eyes. “The others are discussing it now. I came to grab Felix—I wanted him to be apart of our decision. Now that you're here, I'd like you to be, too.”
Marzia is one of the few people never to treat him like he's an outcast, to always include him in decisions regarding the pack. He's made it a point to live up to whatever expectation she's put on him, tending to make the final decision after everything's deliberated.
He nods once, and with that, Marzia is sweeping out of the room with the same grace as she'd entered, Felix at her heels.
~~
Quick in, quick out.
No one had intended this to be a battle. Tense, perhaps, and a few drawn blades and bows, but not a battle. A quiet exchange. Money for children. A criminal act, but anything to keep the pups safe.
But everything falls apart all at once.
There's so much blood in the snow.
Jack had traveled away from the group to grab Sam, the little tyke desperately clinging to his cloak as though he'll collapse without contact. He might very well do that, so Jack keeps a protective arm around him, praying to the Gods he doesn't have to kill anyone with Sam in front of him.
He urges the child to stay down, pulling an arrow from his quiver. Peering around the remains of a wagon, Jack draws the bowstring back and aims, his eyes surveying the area for any signs of intruders.
There isn't any. Patting Sam gently, he murmurs, “Go. I'm right behind you, okay? I'm gonna keep you safe.”
Sam nods with teary eyes, and slowly gets to his feet. He starts walking through the snow, and Jack stands as well, pulling his knife out of his boot. Just in case.
It's a good precaution. The crunching of snow behind him alerts him to a presence, and he swings the knife behind him without warning. It's a face he doesn't recognize, but the scent is sharp with Lynx.
The Lynx grabs his wrist, but before he has the chance to do anything, Jack kicks him in the stomach and breaks free. Instead of delivering another hit, he glances up at Sam who's stopped in fear.
“Go!” he calls, and in the spare few seconds begins to head that way himself when the Lynx grabs the back of his cloak, yanking him backwards.
He elbows him as hard as he can, and he breaks for it as fast as he can. Grabbing Sam's arm, Jack finds his way back to the group and hears Marzia yell to him, “Jack! Come on, we're going!”
Jack puts Sam ahead of him and follows him, reaching up to touch the amulet Mark gave him for comfort. For some reason, it always brings him a sense of peace, that home feeling of the cabin in the woods, but he finds that it's missing.
He stops dead in his tracks, feeling under the folds of his cloak and along his collarbone. It's not there.
“Jack!” Felix grabs him, urging him on. “We gotta go!”
“My--!” Jack turns, realizing that he must have lost it when he'd been grabbed, and a sudden paranoia settles into him. He needs to have it back. “I need--!”
“Come on!” Felix shrieks, and yanks him along.
Resigned, Jack follows him.
~~
Marzia is in council with the other Alphas.
Jack's sitting with Felix in their house, the events from the last day rolling over in his mind. There's an uncomfortable ache in his chest, and every part of his body is screaming at him to tear at his chest until he finds it.
Such self-destructive thoughts aren't common for him. He's kind of worried.
He hasn't mentioned it to Felix yet—he doesn't know if he will. Jack doesn't know the significance of the amulet save for it being a gift, and he's not ready to find out if it means something else. It must be a Bear thing—Wolves don't have such trinkets.
“Are you okay?” Felix asks him, breaking the silence between them. “Seriously, Jack. You've...been acting really weird since we got back last night. Did...did something happen to you?”
Jack shakes his head, pushing away his thoughts while he sits on his hands. Just in case. “I'm fine. I guess...I'm just anxious. About everything being okay. War isn't exactly high on my list of things to participate in.”
Felix regards him with a look that indicates he knows more than he's letting on, but surprisingly doesn't say anything. Instead, he puts a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently.
The relief is short-lived. A quick breath of air alerts him to something familiar, and Jack jumps to his feet, causing Felix to jolt.
“Jack?” he asks, and then his eyes widen, as if scenting something unfamiliar. He rises to his feet as well, seemingly in a protective stance.
Jack cautiously approaches the door, his body guiding him over before he's had the proper chance to think about his decision. He opens it, and there, frazzled but very, very real, is Mark.
It feels like the world crashes down in front of him, but he can't even muster up the energy to give two shits because his body has been aching for Mark since he left him. The words, what are you doing here get caught in his throat, but instead he asks, “Why?”
He steps back and Mark enters, shaking off the cold. Felix steps forward, apparently ready to defend him, but Jack puts up a hand, trying to indicate that it's okay, somehow. That Mark won't hurt him.
Mark holds out his hands, and Jack mirrors the gesture, palms up. He gently places something in his hands, letting his fingers graze the skin for a few seconds longer than necessary, before he pulls away.
He's silent. Jack stares at the amulet, glimmering back at him.
It's wrong, not having it around his neck. Without thinking, he loops it back over his head, settling it against his chest, where it should be. The heartbeat resonates in his ears, and he lets out a shaky breath. Mark does, too.
“Is this...?” Felix mumbles, breaking the tension between them. “Jack...?”
For the first time since opening the door, Mark's gaze leaves Jack to look upon Felix with a sense of scrutiny. Something feels uncomfortable about the way he looks at Felix, so Jack reaches out, putting his arms around Mark's neck. For some reason, it seems like the right thing to do.
“It's okay,” he says, pressing his face into the crook of Mark's neck. “He's a friend.”
Jack can't tell if he's talking to Mark or to Felix, but the tension in the room crumbles, both parties seemingly relaxing a small bit. Mark's hesitant to reciprocate his hug, but once he does, he squeezes with tremendous strength, not enough to hurt, but enough to make him feel safe. Mark sucks in a breath, breathing him in, and whatever tightness is in his shoulders loosens.
“Come inside,” Jack murmurs, not even considering that this isn't his house and he doesn't really have the right to invite anyone in. But Felix doesn't rebuttal the statement, and Mark breaks away from, albeit after a few moments, and closes the door behind him.
Mark seems reluctant to stop making physical contact with him, wrapping his hands around his wrists.
“Jack,” Felix says, a little louder.
Jack finally breaks eye contact with Mark, looking to his best friend. He tugs his wrists gently, and with resignation, his mate lets go. He licks his lips, gesturing to Mark. “Felix. This is Mark. My...”
He's hesitant to say mate, because they aren't, not really. Their sigils say they are, but until they've claimed each other, they aren't...anything.
“Mate,” Mark finishes for him, obviously feeling no such gap in their relationship. “I'm his mate. And you are?”
Felix purses his lips, opening his mouth to speak, but Jack cuts him off. “This is my best friend, Felix. This is his house.”
“Pleasure,” Felix says, but it sounds like the exact opposite.
Then, all of his mate's attention is back on him. He smooths a gloved hand over his cheek, touching his arm. “Are...you okay?”
“I'm fine,” Jack involuntarily leans into his touch. “Why do you ask?”
“The amulet,” Mark says, and his grip tightens a fraction. “I...I found it. In a forest covered in blood. I couldn't feel you, I—I didn't know if you were alright.”
The unspoken I was worried about you rings heavy with him. Jack chews on his lower lip, shaking his head.
“I'm fine,” he reaffirms. “We just...got into a little skirmish, that's all. I'm not hurt. But, how did you know I'd lost it?”
“It's his claiming necklace,” Felix fills in, as though he's reached a great epiphany. Mark's gaze slides to him again, narrowing slightly. His friend ignores the look. “Isn't that right? I thought it was awful funny that you let him leave without bonding him. But it makes sense now. He wouldn't let you bond him so you took the next best thing—being able to feel him through your ring because he had your necklace on.”
Chills run down Jack's spine as Mark doesn't give him an answer right away. Felix continues, “And so when he lost it in the woods, you knew right away. You were able to locate it and follow his scent all the way back to here. Correct me if I'm wrong.”
“I don't think you're in any position to judge me,” Mark says coldly. Jack's startled by his sudden hostility. “What I do with my mate doesn't concern you.”
“I think you're in my house, and Jack's my best friend, so he deserves to know what you put on him,” Felix counters. “Go on. Show him your ring. Take it off, show him what it felt like for you.”
He can feel Mark growing more aggressive, his muscles twitching in anticipation to attack. Jack thinks he should comfort Mark, but something sticks. Mark did something to him without telling him. Jack would have accepted the amulet if he had known it's actual purpose, that isn't the issue—but Mark forced him into something without consulting him first.
Curling his fingers, he gives Mark a hard shove away from him, and his mate looks at him, eyes widening. “What is this about a ring? What is he talking about?”
“Jack--” he starts, but the door swings open behind him.
All eyes turn. Marzia stands there, looking between Felix, Jack, and then finally resting on Mark.
She doesn't speak, at first. Jack notices Mark pulling himself up a bit, standing to his full height, his frame intimidating to any outsider. But Marzia is the alpha of this house, and her aura imposes much more authority.
It doesn't soften, but after a beat, she says, “You must be Jack's mate. I'm Marzia Bisognin, alpha female of the third division of the Wolf Clan. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Marzia holds out a hand, and Mark takes it, and the two exchange a firm handshake.
“Pleasure's all mine,” Mark says coolly, giving her a small nod. “Mark Fischbach. Lieutenant of the first sect of the Bears.”
“Marzia,” Felix address her, and she acknowledges him promptly. “May I speak with you for a moment?”
“Of course,” she replies, and Felix approaches, taking her by the arm and leading her into the kitchen, leaving Mark and Jack alone.
There's an ugly twist in his stomach when silence greets them. Without thinking, Jack reaches into his collar and pulls the amulet off, dropping it on the ground.
Mark actually winces.
“Do you know how badly I wanted to tear out my fucking chest when I lost this?” he asks in a harsh whisper, gesturing to it. “If you had told me, I would've—I would've been more careful—I—”
“I was afraid it would frighten you,” Mark answers him softly, and he seems like he means it. “You're—you're so afraid. Of me. Of what I may do to you. I didn't want—Gods, Jack. I want you to be safe and happy. It's all I want, and I can't feel you anymore than I can feel my brothers and sisters and clan and it's driving me insane. This was the only way I could keep myself from forcing you into something you didn't want.”
Mark kneels down, picking up the necklace gingerly. He then pulls off his glove and shows him the ring, the same color gemstone glimmering back at him. The amber tone makes Jack want to reach out and put the necklace back on. But he doesn't. “These are...family heirlooms. It's something we Bears give each other to feel one another's heartbeat, and to some extent, emotions. I didn't lie to you when I said it was for protection. They're typically used to reinforce and extend the mate bond. But it works...in other cases. Like ours.”
Jack stares. Mark holds it out to him. “Please. Just—put it back on, please. I know this isn't what you want. I'm scared of hurting you. That's the last thing I want and this is keeping me—this is keeping me in check. Consider it a safety for you. I don't want you to be scared of me.”
“I'm not scared of you,” Jack lies, but reaches out for it anyway. He pulls it on over his neck, and a wave of relief fills him. The heartbeat returns, and the ache within him quiets.
When he looks up again, he suddenly takes note of how tired Mark looks, as though he hasn't slept a wink since his departure. To be fair, Jack hasn't been sleeping the best either, but Mark looks worse than he feels.
A lull of silence falls between them, a careful distance apart, and Felix and Marzia reenter.
“It's late,” Marzia says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Jack, you know you're always welcome to the guest room. Lieutenant Fischbach, you're welcome to stay here for the night, so long as you promise not to cause any trouble under my roof.”
There's an unspoken threat, there. Jack wants to speak out and thank her for looking out for him, but he figures it might be awkward, so he chooses just to give her a small nod, which she returns.
“Mark, please,” his mate tells her. “And thank you. I promise my stay here won't be of any trouble to you or your omega.”
Marzia gives him a curt nod, before taking Felix by the arm. They walk to another part of the house, and Jack hears the soft click of a door closing.
The two are alone. Jack rubs his neck awkwardly, before gesturing to the guest room. “Come on, I guess. Let's...settle in for the night.”
Mark regards him with a mute expression, before following him into the bedroom. Jack breathes in the scent of the room, fresh and clean as it always is. He immediately goes about his nightly routine, shucking off his cloak and his boots, before crawling into bed.
After a beat, he hears the rustle of movement, and Mark gingerly slips in beside him. Without thinking, Jack snuggles closer to him, slotting himself into place in his arms with ease.
He's just about to fall asleep when something stirs inside him. Pressing his face to Mark's chest, he asks, “What's wrong?”
No answer. He begins to pull away, to question him further, but Mark's hold on him tightens.
“I thought you were dead,” he whispers, in the stillness of the room. It's such a heavy phrase. “I thought you were dead and I wasn't there to protect you. I've never been so scared of anything in my life.”
Jack can feel his anxiety coming off in waves, and he realizes how hard it must be to acknowledge this, to tell him that he thought he's failed him. Bears are proud creatures—but more than that, they care for their own, and even the consideration that he hadn't been able to do that is tearing him up inside.
“I'm safe, though,” Jack tries. “You can feel my heartbeat, can't you? I'm alive. You didn't fail me.”
“But you could've been hurt and I wasn't there,” Mark mumbles. “This is why I was so scared to let you go. Even if I had known, I wouldn't have been able to get here in time.”
His tongue is lead in his mouth at the underlying indication, and he breathes in Mark's scent, calming his nerves. “Go to sleep, Mark. I'll be here when you wake up.”
Jack drifts off to Mark's thumping heart in his ears.
~~
Ask. Ask. Ask.
He wakes to those words in his mind.
Mark's out of bed when Jack opens his eyes, leaning against the door and staring at him as though he's got something burning in his head that he needs to get out.
The words are a plague to his mind though, a nestle of dread sinking into him as he has a feeling he knows what the questions will be. Jack licks his lips, before saying, “I won't do it, you know.”
Mark raises an expectant brow. Jack sits up, fiddling with the small fray in the quilt. “I won't bond with you. Not now. I told you already. I know you're scared of losing me but I can't do it, okay?”
A beat. Then, “I wasn't going to ask you that.”
“What else could you ask me?” Jack prompts him. “What else would you be so afraid to ask me, if not that?”
His mate looks at him thoughtfully for a moment, as though choosing his next set of syllables carefully.
“I wanted to know,” Mark says slowly. “If you would be willing to come and live with me.”
“No.”
The quickness of his answer startles the both of them. He isn't expecting the words to come out as fast as they do—he'd expected to have at least a few seconds to process his answer. But his mouth works faster than his brain—it always has.
Mark mouth closes with a soft click, his teeth hitting against themselves. Almost instantly, waves of irritation hit him, but the feeling isn't his. His mate sucks in a breath before murmuring, “You won't even consider it?”
“What good will it do?” Jack replies, as gently as he can, but there isn't really a good way to say this. “My place is here. Your place is there. I'm a Wolf. You're a Bear. Nothing's gonna change that.”
“You said it yourself that these people don't care for you,” Mark counters. “What was it you called yourself, a lone wolf? An outcast?”
Jack really wants to go back to sleep. “That doesn't negate who I am. This clan doesn't treat me with the same reverence as they would a clan member with a Wolf mate, but I'm still one of them, and going with you is bordering on treason. You'd ask me to turn against my people to satiate your desire to keep an eye on me?”
“I want to keep you safe,” Mark grits his teeth, and he's having such a hard time trying to maintain his composure, from what Jack can tell. “You won't let me bond you, you won't come with me, I've barely gotten you to wear that necklace—Gods damn it, Jack, what am I supposed to do? Everything inside me right now is screaming for me to fulfill our bond, damn what you say, but I haven't because you don't want me to. Every alternative I've come up with to give you what you want and that will shut my fucking biology up for ten Gods damn seconds, and you keep acting like it's only because I don't trust you and want you in my sights at all times.”
His heart whimpers. Against his wishes, Jack bows his head, almost in apology. A part of it is because he can feel his mate's frustration, and his own biology wants him to correct it anyway he's capable of, but there's another part that just genuinely feels bad. Mark's really trying, he really is. He could've had his way with Jack long ago and never let him leave, but he's trying.
“I'm sorry,” Jack says, and means it. “I just—I didn't want this. I didn't want any of this. I was hoping I'd never find my mate so I wouldn't be caught up in this. But I can't. I can't come live with you, I can't bond with you, and I can't—I can't be with you.”
Even if my body wants it, he thinks.
Mark's silent for a beat. He combs his fingers through his hair, and he seems like he's digesting Jack's answer when he says blankly, “I could order you to.”
The words sink in his stomach like dead weight. Jack bites his lip, unsure of how to respond to such a statement. Because he could. He could force Jack to do whatever he wanted and he wouldn't be able to stop him.
“I'd never forgive you,” is his reply, his throat dangerously close to choking up.
Mark's brown eyes pierce him, as he crosses the room. Jack's body involuntarily tenses, because he's scared of Mark's next words, of what this could imply. His next words determine his entire future and could destroy everything he's carefully built for himself. His next words could mean hating his mate for the rest of eternity.
But Mark leans down and kisses him on the forehead, feather-light and soft, before he mumbles, “I know.”
It's the last thing he says before he exits the room.
By the time Jack gets up to follow him, he's gone.
~~
“Are you okay?” Marzia asks, taking a seat next to him.
Jack's fucking terrified of heights like no tomorrow, but there's something comforting about sitting at the top of the summit, staring down at the endless stretch of snow.
It's where he comes to think.
“Yeah,” he tells her, though he's not sure if it's true. “Are you?”
She laughs. Jack smiles. Marzia has always been like a sister to him, one of the only people within the clan to never treat him like he's anything less. She's fought for him on so many occasions, defending him and putting anyone who disagreed with her down.
“I'm fine,” she says, but her tone indicates she's going to delve into something that's going to make him tired. “But my mate is also within a day's walking distance, sleeping soundly and I'm certain he's in no pain.”
Jack closes his eyes. “Marzia--”
“I know, you don't want to talk about it,” Marzia cuts him off. “But you need to. When was the last time you contacted him?”
“I haven't,” Jack answers her. He hasn't even sent so much as a letter to Mark since he disappeared from the keep that morning. “I thought it'd be easier this way.”
Marzia lets out a sigh that indicates the exact opposite. “Jack, think of it from his point of view. He finds his mate, and they're supposed to be everything he's wanted. But his mate won't let him fulfill their bond, and won't contact him, and leaves him completely unaware of his well being. I'm not saying he's being entirely reasonable, but I'm asking you to consider what you're putting him through.”
“I don't know what you expect me to do,” Jack retorts. “I don't want this, Marzia. I never wanted this. I can't go running into his arms just because the universe is telling me I should. I have to choose to be a Wolf or a Bear, and I'm choosing Wolf because that's all I've ever wanted to be.”
Marzia puts a soft hand on his shoulder. It's soothing to him, somehow. “You are and always will be one of us. Don't ever doubt that for a second. No matter who tells you otherwise, you were born one of us and you will stay one of us, no matter your decisions.”
He glances to her, and she smiles. “Don't let fear dictate your happiness. Having a mate, Jack, it's a wonderful thing. It's a wonderful feeling. You should reach for it. Don't push it away. It doesn't have to happen all at once.”
She stands, the snow crunching underneath her boots. She offers him her hand, and Jack takes it, allowing her to pull him up.
“Everything happens for a reason,” Marzia says. “Maybe this is a beginning of a new era.”
With that, she turns, and heads back down the mountain.
~~
Though he listens to Marzia's words, Jack is awful at following them.
It's been a week since that conversation—and almost a month since contacting Mark—and he still hasn't made any effort to get in touch. He hasn't come to a conclusion on what he should do.
The only progress he's made recently is helping out Sam. The little one had come to him a short time ago asking for shooting advice, and he's taken it upon himself to help him practice his form. He's got a good eye, and though his fingers are unsteady, with some time, he may become one of the clan's greatest shooters. It's helped clear his mind and focus on something other than this whole mate business.
“Why does the council exclude you from stuff?” Sam asks, loosening the arrow from the bowstring. “You're an adult, aren't you? Shouldn't you be allowed in?”
The boy is what, fourteen? Thirteen? If he's already this perceptive, Jack doesn't want to know what he'll be like in the future. “I'm different, I guess. My opinions don't matter as much.”
“Why's that?” Sam presses. “You look the same to me.”
“My sigil is wrong,” Jack says, involuntarily tucking his hand underneath his cloak. “People don't like it when the Gods damn you.”
“Huh,” Sam murmurs, pulling back his bow. The arrow whizzes through the air when he shoots, and it's a near perfect shot. “I don't think the Gods would damn you.”
Jack stares at him, raising a brow when he turns to him. “What does that mean?”
Sam shrugs. “I just think that maybe they were trying to, I dunno, change things up a little bit? Unite us, maybe? We all worship the same Gods. Maybe they just wanted us to be friends.”
“I don't think that's how that works,” Jack tells him. But really, he can't be sure.
Sam walks across the field, presumably to retrieve his arrows, and Jack watches him with mild interest. The wind is blowing a little harder than it normally does, and Jack thinks maybe they should call it a day.
“Hey, I think we should--” he starts, but abruptly cuts himself short when he sees Sam collapsed in the snow. “Sam!”
Jack rushes to him, shaking him gently. “Sam? Sam!”
He pats his face, trying to wake him up, but doesn't achieve much of anything. Jack lets out a shaky breath as he slings the boy's bow over his shoulder, lifting him into his arms.
“Jack?” Felix calls to him as he approaches the town. “Bro, what happened--? Is that Sam?”
“I don't know!” Jack sputters, letting Felix pull the boy from his arms. “I was—we were practicing shooting and then he just—he collapsed and I--!”
But Felix is already leaving, heading towards what he can only presume as the healer's quarters. Jack paces back and forth in the snow, contemplating following, because what is he supposed to do? He doesn't know what happened or why it happened and one moment he'd been fine and the next--
Jack shakes his head and follows after Felix, trying to ignore the crowd as they murmur and whisper.
Did Jack hurt him?
Why would he do that?
After all that boy's been through...
He's becoming more like a Bear each day.
Jack bites back a scream as he slams the door of the healer's cabin.
~~
“You should get some sleep.”
“I will.”
Felix sighs, shifting on his feet as he stares down at him, sitting cross-legged in the snow. Jack's been sitting out here for who knows how long, but it's not done anything to quiet the whispers that still fill his head.
“They don't mean it,” his friend says, as though that'll make any difference. “They're just scared for Sam. People say a lot of stupid stuff when they're scared. But he's okay. He didn't tell you he was sick with something foul. I don't think he knew. You couldn't have known.”
“I wouldn't hurt him,” Jack spits, hanging his head. “I wouldn't ever. I would never hurt one of our own. I'm not—I'm not like--”
He cuts himself short. Felix is quiet.
“You should come back to our place,” Felix finally quips, offering a hand. “It'll calm your nerves.”
“I'm good,” Jack replies, for the first time rejecting an invitation to stay with him. Felix seems taken aback by this. “I'm going in now. Goodnight, Felix.”
Without taking his hand, he pulls himself to his feet and heads inside his cabin where the rest of his family is fast asleep.
~~
He's never been like us, has he?
Always a little odd?
He's a great shot. Wouldn't surprise me if he shot one of us in the back someday.
He did stay with that Bear for a week, didn't he?
It was his mate. Didn't he show up a few weeks ago?
He led him straight here. Who knows what else he'll bring?
Traitor. Traitor. Traitor.
~~
Jack wakes with a jolt.
In a haze, he throws the covers off of himself and searches the darkness of his room for his cloak. Pulling it snug around him, he sits on the floor, shivering as his bare feet touch the chilly wood. His heart is beating faster than it ever has, and he can't even lucidly recall what he dreamed of.
Finding his boots, he pulls them on without socks, tying the laces lazily before trekking through the house as quietly as he's able. The skin is already chaffing around the heels of his feet, but he doesn't care as he quietly opens the front door, crunching into the snow.
He lets out a long breath, the air rising as a stark reminder to the cold, and Jack follows the stars into the forest ahead.
~~
It's nearly sunrise by the time he gets through the woods. The black sky has faded into a deep purple and blue, and his feet feel as though they're bleeding and they probably are. He hasn't stopped moving once since he'd started, and Jack feels as though his entire body's going to give out at any second.
But the comfy cabin looms just over the hilltop. It's a warm beacon of hope, and something swells within him, whether relief or another bout of exhaustion, he can't tell. But Gods, he's never been so happy to be in foreign territory.
Jack hasn't even made it to the door yet when it opens with an ominous creak, but when he looks up, any fear he may or may not have had melts away, because Mark's staring back at him, and he doesn't look angry, at least.
Without warning, he crosses the distance between them and wraps his arms around him, steadying him, before breathing out, “Gods, Jack. You're freezing. How long have you been out here?”
“I don't know,” he answers, and is surprised his tongue is still functioning. “I just—I walked here—since I woke up--”
He buries his face into Mark's neck, and suddenly he feels like crying, as Mark supports his weight. “I don't want to be alone anymore.”
Mark presses a kiss to the side of his head, not answering as he scoops him up into his arms, carrying him inside the house. He closes the door behind him, and the overpowering scent of the abode fills him. It feels like home.
Setting him down into the chair, Jack feels the warmth of the fire begin to overtake him. Mark moves to take his boots off, but when Jack hisses at the force, Mark pulls away.
“I think I've got blisters,” Jack murmurs. “I'm not wearing socks. I just—I got up and left.”
“Are you okay?” Mark asks, his tone unreadable. “Did someone hurt you?”
He thinks of his entire clan, the whispering and the words over and over. The dreams. But he shakes his head. “No. I'm alright.”
“Somehow, I'm having a hard time believing that,” is Mark's answer, but his touch softens as he gently pulls off his boots, examining the soles of his feet. “These are tremendous blisters. I'm surprised you were still walking when you got here.”
“It's kind of a haze,” Jack replies. “I don't...remember much. I didn't even really know where I was going. But I guess my body did.”
Mark sighs, moving to the cabinet adjacent to the fireplace. After a few seconds of rummaging, he withdraws a glass bottle, before kneeling down again.
“This is probably going to sting,” he says. He opens the bottle and out pops a little brush, wet with some sort of substance. “Don't say I didn't warn you.”
Jack hisses when it makes contact, but he does his best to stay still for the next few minutes until Mark finally caps the bottle.
Reaching up, Mark unclasps his cloak and lets it fall into the chair before lifting Jack up again. He walks him down towards the bedroom and eases him down into bed, before climbing in next to him.
Jack's body moves on its own as he snuggles closer, and Mark pulls him into his arms, as though wrapping him in a protective bubble.
“Mark...” he tries, but Mark hushes him.
“Go to sleep,” he says. “We'll talk in the morning.”
~~
Fingers are carding through his hair when he opens his eyes.
Mark seems to be doing it absently, but doesn't stop once his gaze slides down to him, realizing that he's awake. Jack doesn't make any effort to stop him.
“Are you okay?” Mark asks again, as though expecting Jack's answer to change from the last one. “Did someone hurt you?”
“No,” Jack sighs. “I'm alright. No one hurt me—not, not really.”
“Tell me what happened,” Mark commands, but it's doesn't feel like one. It just sounds like concern. Though, the slight tingle to obey bubbles beneath his skin.
Jack shakes his head, fighting it off. “It doesn't matter now. Some stuff happened after you left, that's all.”
“Tell me what happened,” Mark says again, and this time Jack shivers with rebellion.
“I said it doesn't matter,” he grits out, reaching up to stop Mark's hand from touching him. “Don't worry about it.”
“You haven't contacted me in over a month after making it painfully clear you didn't want me around,” Mark reminds him, as though he'd forgotten. “And now suddenly, you show up out of the blue with blistered feet and damn near frostbite. It does matter, Jack.”
He swallows the lump in his throat. “They called me a traitor.”
Mark grows quiet.
Jack rubs at his eyes, willing himself to hold off any frustrated tears that may fall. “After you left, I—I started training this boy in our division. His name is Sam. And while we were practicing one day, he—he just collapsed. I took him back to our healer but everyone—everyone thought I'd hurt him, that I was—that I was like--”
He sits up and pulls his knees to his chest, ignoring the ignition of pain along the bottom of his feet. He presses his face to his knees. “I didn't hurt him. I would never. I'm not a traitor. I'm not a Bear. I'm a Wolf. I'm a Wolf.”
He's trembling when Mark puts an arm around him, attempting to soothe him. Mark places a hand over his chest, pressing the necklace he still wears after all this time into his skin. “I know. I know you didn't do anything wrong. These people hurt you. But I won't.”
Jack raises his head, and Mark presses a soft kiss to his temple. “I'm not asking you to be a Bear. I'll never ask you to be a Bear. I'm only asking you to be Jack. My Jack.”
He's being so tender for someone facing what can only be described as awful separation anxiety. He's felt it from the moment Mark took him into his arms, relieved to see him again. He's being so patient and understanding and Jack's eyes sting, threatening to over spill with tears.
“Stay here with me,” Mark says, and Jack's resolve is quickly leaving him. Maybe it's the fatigue. “Stay here with me. I'll show you the best places to make snowmen. I'll show you the perfect hilltop to watch the stars. The perfect rooftop to watch the sunrise. Stretches of open forest to practice your shooting, and there's a pub in the area that makes the best hot chocolate I've ever had. I'll show it all to you. Just...stay here, with me.”
It's the closest he's ever heard Mark to begging, but it also sounds like a promise. It sounds like a sweet, warm whisper in the chill of the morning, and Jack wants every bit of it with everything in him.
Jack reaches out and wraps his arms around his neck, twisting his body to pull him into a deep kiss, letting the gesture be his answer. Mark's eager to respond, pulling him towards him in a firm hold, like he's dying for a breath of air and Jack's got all of it. He lets Mark's lip roam wherever they please, along his cheeks and his jaw, down his neck before returning to his lips. His heart thrums in his chest, singing in joy because Jack's finally letting this happen.
“I promise I'll take care of you,” Mark breathes against his lips. “I'll never let anyone hurt you ever again.”
“I don't need you to protect me,” Jack's fingers grip the collar of his shirt tight. “I just need you to be here while I protect myself.”
Mark's answer is to ease him onto his back, leaning over him as his mouth travels across every inch of his exposed skin. His fingers slip beneath his shirt and Jack shivers, his heart jumping to his throat in a bout of anxiety. His first reaction is to shove Mark away, but Mark pulls away first.
“Okay?” he murmurs, as if he doesn't already know, as if the answer isn't painfully obvious in his demeanor, and in his expression.
“Slow,” Jack mumbles back, trying to ignore the way he feels his face heating up, and he knows he must be scarlet by now. “Just...go slow.”
Mark nods, his touches growing softer, lighter, but still with the same heavy intent. Jack closes his eyes, willing his heart to slow down, attempting to ease his nerves about this whole situation.
It's happening. It's really happening.
But Mark doesn't finish. A loud knock at the door startles them both, and Mark locks eyes with him for a brief few seconds. Neither of them move, and he can see the wheels turning in Mark's head, contemplating answering it.
He licks his lips. Mark says, “Wait here. I'll go see what's wrong.”
Pulling away from him, his mate exits the bedroom and Jack sits up, twirling the sheets around his fingers. He swallows, trying to see if he can hear anything in the distance.
But it sounds deathly quiet. Until Mark comes back, poking his head inside.
“Hey,” he breathes, and Jack already doesn't like his tone. “There are...some people, here. They're not bad people, don't worry. Some of my clan. They want to meet you, if that's alright. You don't have to. You can say no.”
Jack shifts uncomfortably. But he figures since Mark has met Felix and Marzia, this is only fair. “It's...okay. I'll meet with them. As long as they're...”
“They're friends,” Mark says, as though that will alleviate any sort of anxiety. “They won't hurt you. I promise.”
Jack nods, and Mark comes all the way in, offering him a hand. Jack slides his feet off the edge of the bed and stands up, forgetting about the blisters on his feet. Mark puts an arm around his shoulder. “Can you walk?”
“I'm good,” Jack squeaks, but doesn't complain when Mark guides him towards the bedroom door, and it's then that he gets a strong scent of unfamiliarity.
Bears. More of them.
Mark's hand smooths the cloth of his shirt, perhaps in a comforting gesture, and once they get to the door, Jack sees two people standing in the living room where he'd been only hours before.
They're both large men—one's rounder, while the other has a bit of a beard going on. Both of their attentions snap to Jack when he and Mark enter the room, and there's a few seconds of tense silence before the rounder one steps forward.
“You must be Jack,” he says, and his voice is so powerful, taking up the whole room, it feels like. “My name is Bob. I'm a really good friend of Mark's.”
He gives him a smile, and Jack gives him a nervous one back. He hopes Mark doesn't feel him trembling, but he probably does.
The other one steps forward, giving him a look up and down before snickering. “You're so tiny. Perfect for little Mark here!”
He laughs, and Bob lets out a small chuckle too before admonishing, “Wade, be nice. Can't you see how scared he is?”
“I'm just saying he's perfect for Mark,” Wade answers. “Welcome to the sleuth.”
It's such a weird thing to say to a member of an opposing clan, but somehow, it makes Jack feel at home.
~~
Jack's pulling the seams out of an old pillow on Mark's couch when he comes in.
“You okay?” Mark asks.
“Why wouldn't I be?” is his reply, because Mark has no reason to believe he's not okay. He's getting everything he wants now. What could be wrong?
Mark sits down next to him, careful to leave a few inches of space between them. “I just want to make sure...that this is something you actually want.”
“Does it matter?” Jack hears the seams rip. “This is what you wanted, isn't it? For me to stay with you? For me to be your perfect little mate?”
A soft sigh escapes him. “That's not what I want. I don't want to make you do anything you're uncomfortable with. Why don't you get that?”
“Because that's all I've ever known,” Jack closes his eyes. “That's all I've ever been taught about you. About your clan. That you take what you want and damn what anyone else thinks. It's all I've ever known about omegas in my clan--belonging to their alpha. Some treat their omegas fine, but I've seen so many cases where they haven't and I--and I'm trying so hard to fight this part of myself because I refuse to be treated like that. I don't want to be.”
Jack sucks in a breath. “I just want to be...your partner. I don't want you to own me. You don't get to tell me what to do anymore than I get to tell you what to do. And I'm so fucking scared that if I agree to this, you'll forget that.”
Mark gently pulls the pillow out of his hands. He places his own hands over his in what he assumes to be a comforting gesture. “I don't want you to be scared of anything ever again. That's what I want from you. I want you to feel like you're safe with me. I don't want you to be my property. I don't want you to belong to me. I want you to be with me. I won't forget because I never wanted anything else in the first place.”
He lets out a low sigh, closing the gap of space between them on the couch. Mark is warm and solid against him, a vivid reminder that whatever he wants is within reach. It takes a few more seconds of tense silence before Mark kisses him, drinking him in and reveling in the sensation when Jack kisses back, letting Jack move his hands to card through his hair.
“Is this what you want?” Mark asks him, fully coherent and Jack wonders how he's able to keep his voice so steady, being this close to him. “If not, I'll wait. I'll wait forever and a day after.”
“I think you've waited long enough,” Jack breathes, closing his eyes. “I think I have, too.”
It's the most honest he's been with Mark and himself since all of this happened. He's spent months fighting his body and frankly, he's tired. But more than that, he feels secure in this now—like he can trust what his mate is saying without hesitation.
Mark smiles, soft and sweet as he gathers him into his arms again with ease. Jack thinks he probably likes doing that just to show off how strong he is, and the thought itself elicits a smile from him, too.
He starts laughing, rich and strong in his throat when Mark plops him down on the bed, because somehow he's so happy that this anguish, this internal battle within himself is over. It feels even better when Mark starts laughing too, because it's such a nice sound and when Mark kisses him, bumping noses with him, it feels like everything's slotting into place.
~~
When Jack wakes, it's not even light outside.
He shifts, a jolt of pain washing over him, but in a good sort of way. He's stiff but the warmth of his mate soothes the tension, and Jack takes a few seconds to gaze upon Mark, uninterrupted.
It's then he realizes that he's never gotten this opportunity before, to just look at Mark completely unobstructed. Every meeting they've had has been too frantic for staring, and Mark almost always wakes up before him. This time seems to be different.
Jack brushes a stray strand of Mark's black hair out of his face, taking note of his smooth complexion. His face is miraculously untouched for a Bear—most he's seen, they have some sort of marring on their face. But Mark is crisp and clean and decidedly perfect.
Suddenly, Jack's aware of the fact that the discomfort is no longer burned into his bones. Whatever thrum inside of him is now sated, and the thought isn't scary. Everything feels quiet but warmer, and he could get very used to this.
He had been expecting this grand, monumental change in himself once he'd been properly mated. But it honestly still feels like him, just a little happier, and that in itself is an amiable feeling.
When Jack returns to looking, beautiful brown eyes gaze back at him, and where normally he'd hop right of his skin, he says, “I'm still me.”
It's not what he'd been intending to say, and almost immediately, he shuts his eyes, wondering where in the world the words had come from. But Mark laughs, and it's such a prettier sound this close, and so much of a better feeling, now that they're connected. “I hope so. You were expecting something else?”
“Yes?” Jack shrugs. “No? Maybe? I don't know. I just like. I guess I was expecting to feel different. Like a different person. But really, I just feel like...me. Only I've got this other mingling feeling that I think...is you?”
“I don't know, is it?” Mark teases, and suddenly Jack's stricken with this gorgeous feeling, so strong in him that he closes his eyes. “Can you feel how much I love you?”
“Yes,” Jack breathes, and realizes that it's the first time Mark's said that aloud. It stirs something inside him. “I hope you feel it too. I don't really know how all this works.”
Mark leans over him and presses a kiss to his head. “I feel something. I feel you all flustered and shy but curious, and that you love it when I kiss you on the forehead.”
“My secret is out,” Jack hums.
In the stillness of the room, there's a dramatic change of pace. More of a calm between them, Jack nestles himself closer to Mark's side, as though they're not already connected, as though he could be any closer to him than he is. But Mark doesn't seem to mind, squeezing him.
There's still so much to talk about. They both know it. They have to talk about what this means for them, their clans, the rest of their lives. There's still so much to talk about but Jack really doesn't want to have that conversation now.
“There have been talks,” Mark murmurs, as though reading his thoughts. “Of establishing peace across clans. It's not a certainty, but...it's possible. Bob will be going as an ambassador, since he's the Chief's son. We've had tentative plans to meet with the alpha of the first division of the Wolves. It's been kept very quiet. I doubt anyone really knows about it at this point—more than likely no one you associate with. Perhaps Marzia, being an alpha. I'm only in on it because I know Bob. I'm not sure Wade even knows.”
Jack lets out a short breath. “It won't be that easy. You can't just claim peace and everyone will follow.”
“I'm not saying that,” Mark replies with such finality that it dampens his paranoia. “But it'll be a start. Perhaps the beginning of a new era.”
Marzia's words echo in his mind, and he wonders if this is what she alluded to, all that time ago. If she knew of this situation, and knew that something brighter could be on its way.
“I don't want to worry about that right now,” Jack finds himself saying. “I just want to worry about us. I want this to belong to us.”
He's not quite sure what he's referring to. Maybe their bond, their connection. It could very well belong to their clans, could define the rest of their futures, but he doesn't want that. Just them. Only them.
“It belongs to us,” Mark says quietly, tenderly, with ease. “Only us. Always.”
Jack gazes up at him, and when Mark smiles, it's brighter than the sun.