“Krieg—John.” Damon cleared his throat, unsure what to say. “Thank you for saving me. And my mate.”
Krieger tensed for a microsecond, then slipped his pants on. “All in a day’s work then.”
When Damon came back to Blackstone after his discharge, he tracked down Krieger. The man had been an even bigger mess than he was, so Damon decided to bring him to Blackstone. Somehow, he convinced Krieger to take the ranger test and do the training with him. After that, then-Chief Simpson agreed to give Krieger the permanent position guarding the entrance to Contessa Peak; after all, most shifters were social, so no one wanted this particular duty. But for Krieger, being away from everything was salvation.
Damon had visited him often in the beginning, but the guilt of what happened in Kargan had eaten away at him each time he saw the former soldier. The man’s need for solitude reminded him that he was responsible for sending Krieger and his team into that market building, and led to the horror he endured.
“I’m sorry, John.” He didn’t know what else to say, but he knew he owed the other man his apology and much more. “If I haven’t said it before, I’m so sorry.”
He let out a chuff. “It was war, Sir—Chief,” he said. “We all knew what we signed up for. No need for apologies.”
“Not just that,” he said. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around to see you over the last couple of years. I should have visited more. I have no excuse. What you and I went through—no one else could ever understand.”
Krieger turned his massive body away from him. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, his tone laced with a dangerous edge.
“We don’t have to,” he said. “We can just talk.” He took a deep breath. “You know, forgiveness, it’s not just something another person has to ask for. Sometimes … sometimes we have to ask forgiveness of ourselves.” That had been what Anna Victoria had said that morning when they were sitting outside. His throat closed up at the revelation. After all these years, it finally clicked in his brain. He’d spent all this time torturing himself, hurting himself and his animal in the process. The guilt had been eating them up alive, turning them dark from the inside. “Anyway … I’ll be by next week.”
“I … I’d like that,” Krieger said, not turning around.
Damon blinked, but nodded and then headed out the door. The cool air cleared his head of the memories brought up seeing his former master sergeant, and by the time he returned back to the main road, he felt lighter. No, he wasn’t completely free of guilt, but now he knew what he had to do to fix himself and his animal. However, for now, all he wanted was to be with his mate. So, he tracked her back to where she was still sitting in the back of the ambulance, a blanket wrapped around her.
“Damon!” she called as he rushed toward her. “Where’d you—oh!”
He couldn’t help himself as he pulled her into a fierce hug. “I missed you.”
She chuckled. “You were gone like twenty minutes.” Her body sank into his. “I missed you too. Where did you go?”
“I’ll tell you more later,” he said. And he would tell her everything, and this could be the start of his journey to forgiving himself. The bond felt stronger now, like it was a physical thing between them, and he wondered if maybe it was because of this that he finally realized what it was his soul needed to heal. “You good to go?”
“Yup,” she nodded. “Ankle’s definitely sprained, but I can go home as long as I keep it iced and elevated, plus go for a follow-up with a doctor tomorrow.”
“Good.” Gently, he hauled her up and carried her, bridal style.
“Damon!” she giggled. “Where are we going?”
“Home,” he said, looking down at her pansy-blue eyes. “I need time alone with you, mate.”
“Hmm …” She traced a finger on his chest. “Sounds heavenly.”
“You’re heavenly,” he said. “And mine. All mine.” The Demon rumbled in agreement.
Her hands cradled his face gently, and she smiled up at him, lighting up all the dark places in his soul. “Take me home, Chief.”
Epilogue
“You look beautiful,” J.D. gasped as Anna Victoria stepped from behind the screen.
“Thanks—are you crying, J.D.?” she asked.
“No!” J.D. denied, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. “It’s dusty in here.”
“Sure,” she teased. “Well? What do you think?” She twirled around, sending wispy light fabric fluttering around her. “Not too much?”
“It’s perfect,” J.D. said. “Damon’s gonna love it.”
In all honesty, Anna Victoria never thought she’d wear a wedding gown ever again, much less plan a wedding. But here she was, two weeks away from the wedding date. The church and venue were booked, guests invited, tux rented, and the only thing left on her to-do list was the gown.
“This is amazing, Dutchy,” she said to the redhead, who was standing off to the side. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome,” Dutchy replied. “I told you I’d have something done for you that you’d like.”
Anna Victoria didn’t want a gown that was too over the top, like her last disaster of a gown had been, but she couldn’t find anything online or at The Foxy Bridal Boutique on Main Street. So, J.D. suggested she turn to Dutchy for help, since the fox shifter was a fashion designer and had even made many of the gowns for Blackstone’s elites.
It didn’t seem like the gown she wanted existed—she wanted something that wasn’t too bridal, but didn’t want to stray too much from tradition. So instead of white, Dutchy had suggested a peach and blush gown, which would fit a spring wedding theme, she sketched out a design—V-neck top with a tiered tulle skirt so she could move around easily.
And now, two weeks later, she was actually wearing it. “You’re a miracle worker, Dutchy. It’s so much better than I thought it
