Fury of Affliction (Dragonfury 2.0)

2

He’d always been a male with secrets. So many, he didn’t know where to start. Or how to share all of it without scaring her.

Planting his fist on the desktop, Sloan bowed his head. Goddess help him. The push-pull was tearing him apart. He wanted to tell her. Theodora needed to know, but every time he veered toward honesty his throat closed. Not that his dragon half cared about his struggle.

His beast adored Theodora, opening wide, inviting her in, allowing her to burrow in and settle deep. The idea made him tense. Self-preservation clung to independence and the old ways. His love for Theodora, however, demanded something else. Something new. Something different. Something, if he allowed the vulnerability, would feed her while devouring him.

His dragon embraced the idea.

His human half railed against it.

The dichotomy confused him. Hard lines he never crossed had begun to blur, blending his past with the present, dragging his history into the open, letting the pain he carried out of its cage. Now he didn’t feel like himself anymore. He was drowning. Slowly losing himself along with the grip on his volatile nature. Things that never bothered him before, irritated the hell out of him now.

He’d never paid attention to what others thought of him. He was self-contained. A hard shell. An unbreachable castle with a moat full of sharks. Needing another’s approval never factored into the equation…until recently. Until Theodora forced him to face an unforgiving truth. One that began and ended with the fact he counted on his packmates. Loved his brothers. Enjoyed being a part of the pack no matter how idiotic the members’ antics, leading him to acknowledge an inescapable fact—his packmates’ opinion of him mattered.

Which made his withdrawal all the more startling…and insulting.

Like Theodora, his brothers needed him to share. To be honest about his past. To be upfront about the depth of his loss. To allow the pack to carry him through the bad times and encourage him through the good. Which, crazy as it seemed, brought him back to the chair.

His chair.

The purple monstrosity everyone hated, and he refused to let go.

His packmates asked about it all the time. So often, Sloan knew he needed to explain, but…fuck. Telling them the truth meant reliving the nightmare. Something he didn’t want to do. The reason he kept his chair wasn’t anyone’s business but his own, and yet the constant questioning bothered him.

He heard the grumbles. Clocked the continued curiosity. Stuffed the hurt down deep every time one of his brothers muttered something derogatory under his breath.

Staring at a gash in the seat cushion, Sloan flexed his hand on the back of his chair. Leather groaned. Frayed stitching popped. He ran his fingertip over a well-worn groove. A scar. One of many his chair had suffered over the years. The familiar feel made bad memories resurface.

His chest tightened.

Deploying an emotional tourniquet, Sloan stemmed the flow and fought through the pain. So his chair was ugly. An eyesore held together by duct tape, mismatched bolts, and cans of WD-40. The wide, bucket seat wasn’t even comfortable anymore, but tossing it in a dumpster would mean throwing away the only thing he had left of?—

“Sloan?”

A soft inquiry. Sweet undertones. Her voice. The voice. The only one capable of blunting the jagged teeth of his turmoil.

“Honey?”

Prickles ghosted down his spine.

Standing with is back to the door, Sloan closed his eyes. “Theodora. Baby?—”

“Why are you here?”

Blanking his expression, he glanced over his shoulder.

Sleepy green eyes met his.

Longing tightened his gut. Pleasure at the sight of her tugged at his heart. Fuck. His female. No one better in the world. No one more adorable either. He would never tire of looking at her. Especially now with a crease from one of his pillows imprinted on her cheek and her long legs on display beneath the hem an oversized t-shirt. His t-shirt , the one she slept in when he didn’t have her naked above or beneath him.

Concern in her gaze, she stopped on the threshold. “Sloan?—”

“You should be sleeping.”

“I’m restless without you.”

“I’m—”

“Don’t apologize.”

“ Mazleiha— ”

“You need to give it to me.”

“Theo—”

“You’re losing sleep, honey. Now, with everything going on, when you need to stay focused. You can’t afford to be tired. It’s too dangerous.”

She wasn’t wrong.

With Rodin and the Archguard gearing up to take down the Nightfury pack—and pack commanders picking sides—Sloan needed to stay sharp. Mistakes cost lives, and unfocused meant dead. Bastian and his brothers were counting on him to sort out the details in order to build a strong coalition of like-minded Dragonkind warriors.

Theodora uncrossed her arms. “Sloan.”

“That’s off limits.”

“Not to me, it isn’t.” Leveling her chin, she took another step into the room. “I get it all, Sloan. All of it. All of you, just like you get all of me. So, the whole silent thing you’ve got going on is done. No more ignoring the elephant in the room. It’s clear you need to talk about it, so you’re going to give it to me, and I’m going to take it. Help carry it. Bring you some relief while you face the hard part of healing.”

He shook his head. “I’ll never heal, baby. Not from a wound like this.”

“Okay. Fair enough,” she whispered. “But that doesn’t mean you need to suffer alone. I can help carry the load, honey. But more, I need you to let me.”

“Playing dirty.”

“No other way with you,” she said. “I’d do anything for you, Sloan. Give anything. My beating heart, if necessary.”

Fighting the pain, he shook his head.

She gave him a warning look.

He tried to explain. “I don’t talk about it, Theo. With anyone.”

“I’m not anyone .”

He frowned. Well, she had him there. Then again, his mate usually did. The bond he shared with her was strong. Unbreakable. So intense, she read him right every single time.

“I’m yours—yeah?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“And you’re mine. What would you do if I was struggling…suffering…and I refused to share the reason with you?”

“Wear you down. Make you talk to me by fucking you into exhaustion.”

“Well, I’ve been doing that all week?—”

“Thank the goddess.”

“—and you still haven’t shared, so now I’m tackling the problem from a different angle,” she said, digging in the way she always did when he fell into old patterns. “It’s time to tell me, Sloan.”

“Don’t know if I can.”

“You can.”

His lips twitched.

Her eyes narrowed.

A standoff. One he was unlikely to win given his mate’s stubbornness. Since arriving at Black Diamond, she’d come into her own, personality shining bright, becoming the female she was meant to be, not the one her uncle had forced her to become.

“Sloan.”

Unable to find the words, he clenched his teeth.

“His birthday was this week?”

The ball of pain sitting like a bomb in the center of his chest throbbed, threatening to detonate.

“Simeon would be what—twelve now?”

Sloan nodded.

“What day was he born?”

Recall hammered him. The vault he kept locked cracked open, allowing the memory to spill out. Devastation a living, breathing thing, he forced out, “On a Thursday. Full moon. Bright stars in a black sky, twelve years ago yesterday.”

“I know how much losing him hurts?—”

“It kills, Theo,” he rasped. “ Kills. ”

“I see it. I feel it. I hurt when you hurt, but honey, you’re already halfway there. You told me his name. You shared that much, so now, take the last step. Let me in on the memory. Give me the rest.”

Heart thumping, Sloan drew a ragged breath.

Theodora made a pained sound. “Hope shared something interesting with me the other day. I think it might help.”

“What?”

“When Forge gets mired in the past. In the pain, he shares the memory with her without speaking. He downloads the experience like a video file through mind-meld. If it’s too much…if you can’t find the words…then show me, Sloan. Use our bond to connect and show me. Nothing you do or say will shock me. I know you. I know your heart. I know I can help you find a way through the grief.”

So earnest. So understanding. One hundred percent right.

His mate knew how to smooth the way. How to help him even when he didn’t know how to help himself. Seeing him suffer hurt her. Instead of turning away, she’d dug in and thrown down by giving him an ultimatum. One that made sense. One his dragon half needed him to honor, so…

Time to decide.

Either he nurtured the bond he shared with Theodora, or he didn’t. No middle ground existed. He couldn’t have it both ways—sharing when he wanted to, shutting her out when he didn’t. Energy-fuse demanded respect. His dragon half was dialed in, waiting for him to pull his head out of his ass and trust Theodora with the truth. With all of him, not just what he felt comfortable giving her. His beast already knew what he kept resisting. In order to do right by her, he must shed old habits and create healthier ones.

Feeling inadequate, not knowing how to meet the moment, he cleared his throat, then raise his hand, palm up, asking her to come to him. “Need you here, mazleiha .”

An order. Firm. Determined. Even though, gently said.

Theodora didn’t resist. She moved, closing the distance without hesitation.

He sighed in relief as she walked into his arms. Smoothing her hands over his chest, his shoulders and down his back, she pulled him together with her touch, providing what he needed by pressing her cheek to his heart.

Playing with the ends of her hair, he set his mouth against the top of her head. “I don’t want to show you.”

“Too bad,” she whispered, prompting him with a squeeze.

“It isn’t pretty.”

“And my past is?”

“It’s different.”

“Why?”

“You’re you—brilliant, tenacious and strong. Your heart’s aways in the right place.”

“And you’re you —fierce, protective, so smart, sometimes you’re stupid…with your heart in the right place.”

“Not then.” An admission. A difficult one to make given the fallout…and his son’s death. Guilt rose bright and blinding. Grief and self-loathing lashed him like a long-tailed whip. “I fucked up, Theo.”

“We all do, handsome. Can’t go back, gotta go forward. Part of that is sharing the pain and maybe, finally, being able to forgive yourself,” she said, relaxing him one caress at a time. “Newsflash, Sloan…you’re not perfect. Neither am I. No one is. We all mess up. The thing you need to get is, you’re no longer alone. We’re in this together. Start acting like it.”

“You like busting my balls?”

“Stop stalling.”

“You like busting my balls,” he muttered.

“If doing it gets you where you need to be, then, yeah, absolutely.”

Slipping his hand under the fall of her dark hair, he cupped the nape of her neck. The other dipped beneath the hem of her t-shirt. He palmed her bottom, drew her closer, then stroked up until his palm rested against her lower back.

The Meridian ignited.

Tingles swept over his skin.

With a groan, he nestled in, pressing his mouth to her temple. The connection he shared with her solidified. The electrostatic bands hummed. Magic burned through his veins as the floodgates opened, inundating him with pleasure.

Hands skating over his skin, she murmured his name.

He shivered in response. Goddess, she was glorious. So beautiful in her acceptance, she overwhelmed him every time he touched her.

“I love you, Theo.”

“I know, honey. I love you too.”

Absorbing her steadiness, Sloan drew her scent into his lungs. “Ready?”

“Sock it to me.”

A laugh escaped him. How? No clue.

He didn’t feel like laughing, but somehow her flippant comment lightened the load, coaxing him out of the darkness. Surprising in some ways. Completely expected in others. His mate excelled at settling him in ways he never would’ve thought possible before meeting her.

Step by step, Theodora moved him toward something better, until pitch black shifted to shades of gray, helping him navigate the devastation, making him realize she was right. It was time. His reckoning was long overdue. So instead of shying away, Sloan opened the door to his past, connecting with his mate in the way of his kind. Hiding nothing, he let the memory flow from him into her, sharing the night that had tormented him for over a decade.

Standing in the arms of the man she loved, Theodora shivered with longing. The dread arrived next, pushing calm out, dragging the sense of impending impact in. The doom-scape was real. Alive in the Hub, gathering in Sloan’s energy field, the harbinger that preceded emotional fallout. A detonation as devastating as the nuclear one everyone on earth feared as people continued to hate and countries continued to fight.

So many things about Sloan came easy.

The grief he carried wasn’t one of them.

But she’d asked for it. Begged him to let her all the way in. To trust her to be strong enough to take what he gave when he laid himself bare. His fear of vulnerability broke her heart. Someone had taught him to be that way. She’d been taught the same by her uncle. A man without conscience or honor. A man who relished hurting others almost as much as he liked enjoyed strong whiskey. A man so unlike Sloan, she wondered how her mate had survived inside the hideous distortion of self-imposed isolation for so long.

He kept a lot hidden. So much buried deep. Too much left unsaid, trying to protect himself from the truth.

But that was over now.

His wound needed lancing.

She’d taken her shot by asking Daimler to babysit Violet, then cornering Sloan in the Hub. But now, with his heart pounding and grip on her firming, nerves got the better of her. Was she being too pushy? Too aggressive? Not direct enough? Would saying the same thing a different way garner the results she wanted…and he needed?

Hard to know, but one thing for sure—now that she’d started, she couldn’t back down. She wanted to do right by her mate, which meant following through. No matter how painful the process or the wreckage in the aftermath, she was committed to the crash.

She sensed the spiral coming. Could feel the tidal wave of grief as recall forced him to relive that night.

“Sloan?”

He made a sound in the back of his throat. Agonizing. Awful. So stark, she pressed closer, fisting her hands in the back of his t-shirt.

“I’m here,” she whispered, holding him tight. “I’m not going anywhere. Take your time.”

“He was so tiny, Theo. So vulnerable without me and…” His voice broke as memory took over. His body stayed with her, in her arms, warming her through, but his mind… God . His mind went somewhere else. “I wasn’t there. I didn’t protect him.”

She murmured reassurances. Not enough. Barely anything. Feeling helpless as he traveled into a wasteland full of torment.

He swayed against her, anguish threatening to take his knees out.

Her arms tightened around him.

“I can’t. I can’t,” Sloan rasped, clinging to her like a drowning man would a life raft. “There are no words. No right ones.”

“Then don’t use them. Show me instead.”

“I don’t want you to have that image in your head.”

“I want to meet him,” she said, holding the line, refusing to back down. “Let me meet your son, honey.”

Another agonized sound.