Damian's Wolf - 37. Respite

“Damian wants us to pick up more formula for Dylan,” Jordan said, staring at the phone in his lap.

“We can get that on the way back. I think he’d appreciate some more milk, and I don’t want to leave that in the car,” Lysander replied, pulling into a car park. “Hey Jordan, what’s up with the shop next door?”

The man frowned, looking up to see a large truck in front of the bookstore.

“I don’t know, maybe they finally decided to fix it up. That place has been empty for ages,” he shrugged.

Stepping out of the car, Jordan stretched briefly, flinching at a sudden crash.

“Aerael, I hope that wasn’t your back,” Lysander chuckled.

“No, that was someone breaking a wall,” Jordan scowled, hurrying toward the store.

He was met by a neko in a hi vis vest, stopping him at the entrance.

“Sir, I believe the bookstore is closed today,” she said.

“I know, I’m the owner. What’s going on here?” Jordan demanded.

“Oh, you’re the new owner? We heard about Miss Reyla. I’m sorry for your loss. But she paid to have the store remodelled, and… well, it would be kind of bad for our image if we just took the gold and split,” the neko frowned.

“Remodelled?”

“Yes, she asked that we make the shop next door suitable for a bakery and tear down the wall between the shops. I believe she wanted to make her store into something more of a cafe,” the neko nodded.

Jordan turned to Lysander, a stricken look on his face.

“She did this for Damian?”

“Why not? He’s a wonderful cook,” Lysander smiled.

“Oh… you’re friends with… with Damian?” the neko frowned, her tail twitching. “Um… excuse me…”

The neko hurried away, her fur puffed out in fear, and Jordan let out a groan.

“Gods bless it, I am so fucking done with nekos and their fucking racism. How does she even know who Damian is?”

“I told you, nekos are relentless gossips,” Lysander sighed. “Mating two werewolves probably didn’t help his image. Not that it matters; we can offer him all the love and support he needs. Just like you two did for me this morning.”

Jordan grunted, staring at the truck.

“Well… this is probably going to take all week,” he muttered. “I guess we should get some groceries. I can deal with… with the money stuff when I can get into the store.”

An arm wrapped around Jordan’s shoulder, pulling him close.

“If you need my help, just ask, okay?”

“Yeah… Anyway, we should probably get some practice done on the pitch later, right? Maybe this was a good thing.”

“Oh, definitely a good thing,” Lysander smiled. “Think of how happy Damian will be when he finds out.”

A small smile spread across Jordan’s face.

“Yeah. He’s going to love this.”

Buying groceries for the week didn’t take long, and soon the two were on their way home, the sounds of elven ballads serenading them as Lysander drove.

Jordan kept glancing at his mate, reassuring himself that the elf was okay. He hadn’t once said anything about his father, or his mother. Were they forgotten that easily, just brushed under the rug? Or had he somehow gotten his emotions out already, dealt with the loss in a day of mourning? It hadn’t taken that long for Lysander to get over Sara and Jacob either. Maybe he just handled his grief differently.

“I’m okay Aerael,” the elf said suddenly. “I can smell your worry.”

His hand fell on Jordan’s knee, squeezing gently.

“I’m sorry,” Jordan sighed quietly. “I’ll try to stop worrying about you.”

“If you can figure out how to stop worrying, let me know how,” Lysander chuckled. “I’ve been trying for years. But seriously, I’m not going to just fall apart, okay? I know how to deal with trauma. I’m not bottling it up, I’m not getting stuck in my grief. You and Damian helped a lot this morning, and I’m grateful for that.”

The car pulled into the pack house, and Lysander waved at the elf guard with a smile. Parking a moment later, he turned to Jordan, grabbing the man’s hand.

“Do you need some help yourself?” he asked quietly. “I know I’m not exactly Damian, but I have my own tricks to help people cheer up. If you need anything, you know all you have to do is ask.”

“That’s the Lysander I know and love,” Jordan sighed. “Always wanting to help.”

“Oh, like I was ever gone,” the elf laughed.

“You had us worried for a while. We’re not happy if you’re not happy.”

“Yeah…”

Lysander let out his own sigh, leaning in to kiss his mate gently.

“I’m sorry for worrying you. But perhaps we can forget about this for a bit and focus on Damian. His change is coming soon.”

“Don’t remind me,” Jordan grimaced.

“Do you not want to participate? He’s going to be turned. That’s been decided, as far as I know.”

“I’m going to do it. I just think… I mean… I’ve seen how he looked at you that day you took me as a wolf-”

“And he wants that,” Lysander finished quietly. “It’s not that uncommon of a position for werewolves. Having the wolf on the bottom in that form is… less common, but doable, and when he turns, I’m going to enjoy fully exploring both of our forms. You never have to take part if you don’t want. I love you, human form or not.”

“I just… I don’t think I can have sex with him like that,” Jordan muttered.

“Hey, Jordan, do you trust me?”

The werewolf frowned, staring at his lap.

“I… trust you,” he said quietly.

“I will work this out. You’ll be a part of his change. He is still your mate, and I want you to be a part of him always. And I promise, he will have his fun. You don’t have to have anything to do with that. But we will both properly mate him. And I’m definitely going to let him mate me,” Lysander smirked. “It’s going to take a little forethought, but we will work this out.”

He stepped out of the car, stepping around to grab the bags in the back. Jordan hurried after him, the man trying to pick up a larger weight. Lysander slipped an extra bag into the human’s hand with a chuckle, and the two headed back to their apartment.

A ball bounced off Lysander’s foot, arcing up until it dropped to his knee. The elf knocked it up to his chest, catching it precariously and letting it sit for a moment.

“Are you going to just show off or are we going to try to teach me how to actually block a few balls?” Jordan called, watching his mate juggle.

A glance confirmed that Damian was still happily walking with Dylan on a treadmill, the neko’s tail flicking back and forth. Jordan was happy Arisa had remembered the sling from her parents; it was helping so much. Everyone seemed calmer with Dylan around.

“Heads up!”

The call came an instant before a thump, and Jordan spun, yelping as the ball flew at him. He dove out of the way, and the ball struck the net behind him, dropping neatly to the ground.

“I hate to be a backseat keeper, but I think you’re supposed to stop the ball, not dodge it!” Arisa laughed, watching the two from the sideline.

Jordan groaned as he picked himself up. A scowl shot Arisa’s way as the werewolf walked into the net to collect the ball.

“Shouldn’t you be licking your mate’s boobs or something?”

“And miss this show? No way.”

The elf suddenly jogged onto the pitch, making her way to Jordan.

“You got to pay attention. Watch the ball. And stay out of the net; you’re way too close,” she said, grabbing the werewolf’s arm.

Dragging Jordan to the center of the six yard box, she grabbed the ball from his hands and tossed it back to Lysander.

“Like here. Be aggressive. You are the protector of your mates, and you need to take that mentality and apply it to the net. No harm can befall the net,” Arisa said.

She backed off quickly, leaving Jordan standing between Lysander and the net.

“Loosen up a bit.”

Jordan frowned, shaking out his arms and legs. He dropped into a half crouch, watching Lysander as the elf backed up.

The elf started forward, the ball bouncing a good three yards in front of him with every kick. Jordan let out a low growl, his eyes staring at the ball, and suddenly the werewolf darted forward, throwing himself in front of Lysander.

They both went down, a sharp pain exploding in Jordan’s back as his mate’s knee connected with him. Lysander rolled off Jordan quickly, jumping back to his feet as Jordan curled around the ball.

“Well… that was effective. But kind of dangerous.” The elf frowned, reaching down to help Jordan to his feet. “Are you okay?”

Jordan rubbed his back painfully, but nodded.

“Yeah… I’ve dealt with worse. Come on, let’s go again.”

Lysander shrugged, knocking the ball back. Jordan stepped back into position, trying to stay on the white dot outside the box.

“No, not there!”

His head whipped toward Arisa in confusion, right as the ball flew past his face.

“Fuck!”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Lysander said, jogging into the back of the net. “You’re a little too far out. There’s no one good position, you just want to make it harder for me to know where to shoot.”

Jordan growled quietly.

“And you want me to play against professionals? I have no idea what I’m doing!”

“Hey, most of us have no idea what we’re doing. You’re supposed to have fun, okay? The idea is to put on a good show for the people watching us so they’ll go watch more Wolf League games.”

The werewolf grunted, setting himself back into position.

“Fine. Whatever. Just go again.”

Lysander sighed quietly, shaking his head.

“You don’t have to do this Jordan. We can skip the Fox Invitational this year.”

“I’m going to do it. I don’t want to fuck up the entire game for you.”

“You won’t fuck anything up, mei areula,” Lysander promised. “We weren’t expecting to play anyway.”

“Lysander. I’m going to do this,” Jordan snapped. “Just kick the ball.”

The elf stared at his mate. Sighing quietly, he tossed the ball back, lining up to take another shot.