Page 4 of Dragon's Revenge

Oliver cringed. Fallon had instinctively chosen Oliver’s side, not knowing Oliver had been in the wrong. “I’m sorry.”

But Fallon shook his head. “That’s the one thing you don’t need to apologize for. I fucked up, not you. Well, not with me, anyway. That was all my doing, and it’s a reminder to get my facts straight before taking a stand. Duer was rather upset with me.”

Of course. Duer and Delton were close, so Fallon’s mate must not have been amused by Fallon’s attack on Delton. That, too, was Oliver’s fault to a degree. How much had he ruined by his stupid actions? “Please tell him how sorry I am.”

“He knows, but it’s hard for him to see Delton struggle.”

Oliver wanted to sink into a big hole in the ground. Just disappear from sight so no one would remember him and the pain he caused. But how selfish was it of him to feel that way, to focus on how awful he felt instead of on Adar and Delton? If only he could do something to make it better.

If only he could turn back time.

“Would it help if I offered to cook for them, you think?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Invited them for a meal?”

“It can’t hurt,” Yitro said kindly. “Talking is always good, or so Delton keeps telling us.”

Yeah, but that didn’t mean Delton wanted to talk about what had happened. He’d kept his distance from Oliver ever since they’d agreed to a trial. What if Delton didn’t want to come for dinner? What if he regretted saying yes to the trial?

Oliver’s chest grew tight and his throat closed again. If he’d stayed silent, none of this would’ve happened. Adar wouldn’t be upset with him, Delton wouldn’t be hurting, and Oliver himself wouldn’t feel like utter crap. It hurt ten times worse than any of the beatings from Dempsey or the others ever had.

“Oliver?” Fallon asked softly. “You okay?”

Oliver kept his head down as he shook it.

“You messed up, but they forgave you,” Yitro said. “It’s just gonna take time and patience.”

He couldn’t do this. They meant well, but they didn’t understand how badly he had fucked up, how disappointed his mates were in him. Because, if nothing else, the whole thing had only confirmed for Oliver that Adar and Delton were his mates. He might be the only one who felt it, but that didn’t make it any less true. And instead of starting his happily ever after with them, he’d destroyed their chance at happiness.

He pushed his chair back and got up, but when he opened his mouth to tell the others he was leaving, nothing came out. Maybe it was for the better. So he waved at them and hurried out, ignoring Fallon calling after him. Blinded by tears, he ran toward his cabin, only to smack straight into someone. Strong hands grabbed him and kept him upright. “What’s wrong, angel?”

Adar. Oliver shook his head, tears streaming down his face.

“You’re scaring me a little,” Adar said softly, still holding him, and Oliver stepped into his embrace and wrapped his arms around Adar’s waist.

Oliver knew damn well he didn’t have the right, but he needed Adar’s touch. He needed to be held for a moment and feel like they still had a chance.

Adar gathered him close and pressed a kiss into his hair. “It’ll be okay, angel. Whatever it is, we can fix it.”

Fix it? No, this couldn’t be fixed. Once broken, a vase would never be the same again. You could glue it back together, but it would always show the previous damage. Of course, that only made him cry even harder, and he blubbered all over poor Adar’s chest. The alpha was gently rubbing Oliver’s back, holding him almost tenderly. He wasn’t saying anything anymore, just hugging him, but it was enough.

Oliver had no idea how much time had passed before he finally let go and stepped back. He probably looked like a hot mess after that crying fit, with red-rimmed eyes and a snotty nose, but it couldn’t be helped. Adar pulled an old-fashioned handkerchief from one of the many pockets on his cargo pants and carefully cleaned Oliver’s face, then offered it to him to blow his nose. He used it, then stuffed it into his own pocket ‘cause he was not giving it back dirty and full of snot. But when he wanted to tell Adar he’d wash it for him, nothing came out.

The words were gone again—his punishment for using them so foolishly. The gods could give, but they could take away just as easily.

“Oliver?” Adar sounded alarmed now. “Can you please talk to me, angel?”

He shook his head, the tears burning behind his eyes all over again.

“You can’t?”

Another shake.

“Oh, angel…” Adar’s voice broke. “Let’s go see Delton together. Maybe he can help.”

Delton? No way. Oliver was not asking the very man he’d hurt so badly for help. When Adar gently tugged his arm, he dug his heels in and shook his head.

“You don’t want to talk to Delton?”

No. He mouthed the word.

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