Page 20 of Dragon's Revenge

Delton had called him baby.

Not honey, but baby.

Oliver smiled. “I’d love some chocolate, please.”

ChapterEight

He hadn’t brought up Delton’s meltdown with him. Adar didn’t think it would be smart, seeing as how Delton never mentioned it or even referred to it. Apparently, he’d rather forget—and Adar could understand that. That had been more than having a good cry. That had been a world of pain releasing, so much that Adar had worried it was too much. It had taken forever for Delton to stop crying and then to calm down again, and when he finally had, he’d been exhausted. He’d barely been able to make it back to his cabin under his own power, and Adar had stayed until he was sure Delton was okay.

What had triggered it? That was what Adar kept pondering. Delton had mentioned feeling like he didn’t belong anywhere, like no one ever chose him. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride—but the male version. It had pierced Adar’s heart, and every time he thought about it, his heart squeezed painfully all over again.

He’d been careless with Delton’s heart, with his feelings. Oliver had been too, but that wasn’t Adar’s responsibility. His own actions were, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized that the reason Delton’s pain had been so intense was because he had been hurt so badly. By others too, probably, but especially by Adar.

Time and again, Adar had chosen Oliver over him—yet he’d expected Delton to accept that and be satisfied with forever being second choice, with only the sort-of promise of being fated mates as a Band-Aid on a deep wound. And Delton had been in love with him. The beta might’ve denied it, saying it was more the fated mates bond than love, but Adar wasn’t too sure about that.

But it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he wasn’t sure if Delton still felt the same way, if he was still thinking of Adar as his mate. And gods, that thought hurt. Knowing that he might’ve lost something so precious stabbed like a knife.

So he’d have to win him back. He’d made a great start by showing up with flowers and being willing to apologize. Delton’s emotional reaction had been the proof of that. But now he had to see it through, to show Delton he meant it, that it hadn’t been a one-time impulsive thing. And most of all, that he didn’t expect to be forgiven based on a bouquet of wildflowers and the offering of a shoulder to cry on. So he’d texted Delton to see if he wanted to go for an early morning hike, and much to his relief, Delton had agreed.

The cool morning air was always a refreshing start to the day, especially knowing that it would get so much hotter later on. Fall had started, but the summer weather hadn’t abated yet, having her final hurrah. A fragile layer of dew covered the grass and flowers, and wisps of clouds dotted the azure sky. Delton walked next to him on the narrow trail as they headed into the woods. Adar had suggested a lesser-known trail he had discovered that led to a brook where he’d caught a few deer drinking at the crack of dawn before.

“Are you a morning person?” Adar asked. He’d done some research on how to build a relationship, and asking questions was a good way to get to know each other. So he’d memorized a few and planned to ask whichever ones popped into his head.

“Mostly, yes. I can stay up late if there’s a good reason, but I prefer to be in bed on time and get up early.”

“Me too. I can’t even sleep in. Not even when I’m in bed late. I still wake up at six.”

“It’s not quite that early for me, but yeah, same. If I do manage to sleep in, I often wake up with a headache or feel groggy all day.”

“Oliver likes to sleep in,” Adar said, then winced. Shit, had he ruined it by mentioning Oliver’s name?

“I know. He sleeps a lot in general, right?”

Adar breathed out. Apparently, he was okay. “He does. He usually takes a nap in the afternoon.”

“He’s recovering from years and years of trauma. I think it’s his body’s way of shutting down for a bit.”

“You keep saying things like that, but I’m not sure I understand. It’s not a decision he makes himself, then?”

They both halted at the same time. A deer stood in the middle of the path, watching them wearily. When it sensed no immediate danger, it slowly trotted off, and seconds later, a faint rustling of the leaves was the only evidence it had ever been there.

“Beautiful,” Delton said softly.

“I often see them when I make my early morning rounds.”

They started walking again, and Delton cleared his throat. “Anyway, you asked about Oliver’s trauma recovery process.”

“If you want to talk about it. You don’t have to.”

Delton put a quick hand on his arm. “It’s fine. I appreciate it, but you don’t have to constantly walk on eggshells around me, afraid of saying something wrong.”

“I’m trying not to…hurt you again.”

“I know, and that means a lot to me. But despite what you may have concluded after my pity party the other?—”

“Don’t call it that.”

“Emotional breakdown?”

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