Forlorn, Draco left the manor, not having any idea where he was going, letting instinct guide him.  When he came upon a small glen that overlooked the manor and the town below, he stopped and took in the beauty that surrounded him.  Except, he barely saw it.

Instead, he scented the one person he ached to hold and wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to – Ryland. His mate’s scent was faint, almost non-existent, but it was there, ingrained in the small glen as if Ryland spent time there.  Draco wasn’t sure how with those chains he’d been forced to wear, but he was glad his mate had at least some time to enjoy the peacefulness this spot emanated.

Just knowing Ryland had been there settled something within Draco.  Like he was able to share it with his mate, even if Ryland didn’t want anything to do with him.

The melancholy that had dissipated somewhat returned with enough force to bring him to his knees.  What was wrong with him that he couldn’t keep control of his anger?

He would have done anything to make his mate happy, yet it took less than a few minutes to destroy any future they may have had.  His father was right and Draco was a loser.

“No, you’re not.”

Draco whipped his head to the sound of the voice, not daring to let the hope that was trying to flare to life inside of him actually come to life when he saw Ryland walk into the clearing.  His gaze instantly landed on the scars that riddled Ryland’s body and the rage boiled up inside of him once more.

Calloused fingers touched his arm, soothing the beast that was threatening to take over.  “I’m sorry these scars repulse you, but I didn’t think to grab a shirt as I came out to find you.”  Ryland crossed his other hand over his body as if trying to hide some of them.  “I can go back and put one on if you prefer.”

Draco growled at the thought of covering up that perfect body.  He may hate to see the evidence of what others had done to his mate, but those scars spoke to Ryland’s courage and fortitude.  “No,” he bit out harshly when Ryland started to turn away dejectedly.  “Please, don’t go.”

Uncertainty clouded Ryland’s amber orbs as he blinked up at Draco.  He smiled down at his much shorter mate.  At five-nine, he wasn’t exactly short, but Ryland still only came to Draco’s shoulder.  “I don’t find the scars repulsive.  In fact,” he reached over to a vicious one on Ryland’s chest and traced it with his finger.  “I think they show just how amazing you are.”

Ryland gasped, his mouth gaping open as he stared at Draco as if he were crazy.  “Why?  Because I let all those men do this to me?  That I’m too weak to defend myself? That I’m nothing more than a pet to pass around when the guards have nothing better to do?”

The anger in Ryland’s voice was completely justified and showed Draco, once more, just how unbelievably strong his mate really was.  There weren’t too many people who could have survived what Ryland had been put through, much less still have the will to stand up for himself.

“No, gràdh, because they show your courage, your strength, and your will to survive no matter what others think they can do to you.”  Draco didn’t hold back.  His mate needed to hear the truth instead of the doubts that had obviously been plaguing him.

Ryland opened his mouth as if to refute something, but then closed it.  When he opened it again without saying anything, Draco took pity on him.  His fingers continued to trace each and every one of those scars.  “These scars are a testament to your character and, as much as I hate that you had to endure the pain and humiliation those guards put you through, you should never be ashamed.”

A lone tear leaked from Ryland’s right eye.  Before it made if halfway down his face, Draco leaned down and kissed it away.  “You inspire me to want to be a better person.  To be worthy of someone like you.”  He gazed into those amber eyes, wanting to do nothing more than drown in their depths.  “I pray you will give me the chance to prove myself to you, for I swear on my soul, I will do everything within my power to love you as you deserve.”

Ryland moved closer and tilted his head up as if waiting for a kiss.  Draco wasn’t about to deny the silent offer and sealed his lips over Ryland’s.  Sparks ignited between them as electricity flowed through that point of contact, causing Draco’s body to harden with lust.

He hoped the soft moan that escaped from Ryland meant he felt it, too.  But as much as he desperately wanted to lay his mate out on the ground and worship his body, Draco wasn’t going to do that without Ryland fully understanding what that meant.  Humans usually didn’t even realize shifters existed.  Thankfully, he didn’t have to explain that to Ryland, but that didn’t mean he knew what it meant to be mated to a shifter.

Plus, he would need to bite Ryland, and Draco absolutely refused to spring that on his mate.  Ryland would need to agree to that before Draco added another scar to that sweet body.

Reluctantly, he pulled back from the kiss and took a step back to give them some distance so they could talk.  It was like ripping off a part of his body.  His kind mated much more deeply than most shifters.  Any time apart from his mate would cause them both heartache.  Too much time and they would endure physical pain.  It was one of the things he needed to explain to Ryland, along with the type of shifter he was.  Draco’s kind had been hunted for centuries by shifters and humans alike.  Mating with Draco would put a price tag on Ryland’s head.

If he could walk away, Draco would to keep his mate safe.  But it was the curse of his kind.  Once a mate was found, there was no way to leave, even if that mate refused the mating.  Draco would respect Ryland’s wishes to not be together, but he would remain close, protecting what was his.

“We need to talk, gràdh,” he finally managed to say after he put another step between them and could once more think somewhat clearly.

“What does gràdh mean?” Ryland asked.

Draco had no idea he’d even said it.  Not that he was surprised either.  “It means love in my language.”

It was so cute when Ryland tucked his lower lip between his teeth and cocked his head to one side.  “English isn’t your language?  But you don’t have an accent.”

He couldn’t help it, Draco pulled Ryland back into his arms.  He smiled down at him and said, “That’s because I left my home nearly a thousand years ago and have been speaking English as well as several other languages since then.”

Ryland’s amber eyes were as large as saucers.  “Exactly how old are you?”

That was only one of the things he had to tell his mate, so Draco ripped off the bandage, so to speak. “One thousand four hundred and thirty-two.” Draco placed a kiss on the tip of a very stunned Ryland’s nose.  “Thirty-three next month.”

“Fuck,” Ryland breathed out.

At least he didn’t pull away, so Draco would consider that a good thing, especially since he had so much more to tell him that would be much harder to deal with than how old he was.