Page 150 of Blood Fist

He sighed, reminding himself how much he truly loved his children as he settled back into the nest. It was easier to share when they were smaller. As newborns they hardly moved, sleeping where their parents lay them. Now, they were wriggling monsters. Once, Aeson ended up upside down with his brother’s foot in his mouth. Ridan was just grateful they didn’t have his teeth yet.

Already the boys had outgrown all their clothes, Sehleh having to let seams out almost every week. Tufts of dark blonde hair were erupting on their heads, and their eyes were beginning to change from pup blue to something darker. It was hard to believe they once fit inside Ridan’s stomach.

Just when he was about to give up on sleep, the tent flap opened. Ridan and Brune jerked up, fangs dropping and hands grabbing for weapons. When Jonen’s black tea scent hit their nose, they settled. Brune snarled, still half asleep.

Jonen was bare chested and sweaty, curls plastered to his forehead. Despite the heat, his face was pale, eyes wide. He stunk of panic.

“Ridan,” his voice cracked as he wrung his hands. “It’s Corric he…” he didn’t seem able to finish.

He didn’t need to. Ridan already knew.

Untangling himself from his sons, he shared a glance with Brune. “Let me know if you need me.” Brune was pack, but he was an alpha. Corric wouldn’t want him around. He stayed behind, dragging both boys close so he could curl around his pups protectively.

Even if Ridan didn’t know the way to Corric and Jonen’s tent, he could have followed the acrid scent of despair. It set his omega on edge, teeth grit to keep from chattering in his mouth as he drew closer.

Several curious clan members stuck their heads out of flaps already open for airflow. When they smelled Corric’s scent and saw the look on Ridan’s face, they quickly closed them. The stifling heat was a better alternative.

Ridan left Jonen behind, shouldering through the closed flap of their tent. As soon as he stepped in, he could smell the stale scent of anguish. It was nauseating. His knees locked, body refusing to budge.

It was only when he saw Corric, blank faced and huddled in his nest, that he pushed through. He stepped over the icy floor to get to Corric’s side, shoving bloodied blankets out of the way so he could pull Corric to his chest.

The moment he touched Ridan, he wailed, arms limp at his sides as thick tears soaked through Ridan’s shirt.

“Why?” he sobbed, voice hitching.

Ridan couldn’t answer. He rubbed Corric’s back and tried not to look at the blood all over his packmate's legs. Corric’s shoulders shook as he cried, arms finally lifting to grab at Ridan. His blunt nails dragged across his skin.

“Corric,” Ridan sighed softly, nuzzling into his sweaty hair.

“It’s my fault,” he began again, breathing shallowly. “It’s this damn magic!” he shouted, more ice shooting from his fingers to crawl up the wall of the tent. It brought a pleasant reprieve from the heat.

“It’s not your fault,” Ridan said, the words feeling stale in his mouth.

“Then whose fault is it?” Corric demanded, turning his red eyes to Ridan. “It isn’t Jonen’s! He’s a good alpha. He’s a good alpha who has a broken omega.”

They’d had this conversation before. And like the last time Corric lost a pup, Ridan didn’t know what to say. Even if he did, how would it sound? Ridan had a healthy pregnancy withtwohealthy pups. Anything coming out of his mouth would be disingenuous.

He settled himself by pulling Corric into him, scenting him as heavily as he could as he stroked down his neck. They sat like that for a long time. Until Corric’s rage bled out to the numb horror he had grown familiar with.

“Jonen is worried,” Ridan said when Corric was quiet. “You should let him back in.”

Corric shook his head slowly. “I can’t. I don’t want to see the look in his eye when he realizes?—”

“Realizes what?” Ridan cut him off. “That his omega is hurting? Corric, do you think so little of yourself that you’d mate with an alpha that would blame you for this?”

Jonen would never. Not only because that’s not the kind of man he was, but because he loved Corric. He loved him with all his stupid, curly headed heart. Pups or no pups.

“I’m broken.”

“You’re not,” Ridan huffed.

And it was true. Iylah had looked him over. Halm had consulted her books. There was nothing wrongwith either of them. It was just one of those things no one could control. Like the wind or the rain, beholden to nothing but the whims of the earth and sky. There was nothing to fight against. No special tonic or potion to take.

“Is this my punishment for being a Tylock?” Corric asked listlessly, all emotion wrung from him.

“You’re not being punished,” Ridan said gruffly, unused to relying on his words. His sword arm, yes. But his words? Those flimsy intangible things that slip so easily from parted lips, capable of doing more damage than even the sharpest blade. Words have moved mountains and killed thousands. Words have stopped wars and mended broken hearts.

Words were something Ridan didn’t have. He didn’t know how to shape his lips to say the things that would console Corric.