Dylan had never been vain.

As a young pup, he’d never been particularly focused on his body. He ran around with the other boys, covered in dirt and bruises, and got his fair share of scraped knees. He shoved the others off small hillocks and learned quickly how to throw punches, scrap with the best of them, and fight dirty. Shifter children tended to be rougher around the edges compared to human children and as a result, they were more prone to violence, displays of aggression, and dominant behavior. They had far too much energy, and their budding shifter instincts had no animal form to let all the aggression out. Their beast had yet to make its presence felt.

Dylan had grown up in a large pack with plenty of other shifter kids to play with without having to worry about holding back his instincts. Throughout most of his childhood, everyone assumed Dylan would present as an alpha. His stature may have been thin and lanky, but his independence, inherent aggression, and defiance marked him as a budding alpha. It came as a huge surprise to his family and the rest of the pack when he presented as an omega. When the time came, his first heat had been tough on him, and accepting himself for what he was had been even tougher. But he’d worked through it, accepted himself as an omega and was determined not to let the stereotypes associated with it confine or define him.

For a while, he was a wild omega, defiant and aggressive. He played rough with the alphas, and frightened the betas. For much of his teenage years he’d retained his small build, but his strength surprised most people. He was pursued by many, in no small part, due to the reputation he earned for being a wild ride. Everyone wanted to be the alpha that tamed the wild omega. He was in control, however, and it felt right.

Time passed, and it became clear that while he was comfortable with who he was, he wasn’t comfortable in his small-town pack. While the others thought conquering the wild omega was worth the fight and a little fun to be had, he wasn’t considered mating material. And Dylan realized...he didn’t actually want to be mating material. He’d rather be free, be himself and make a difference in the world.

As he grew older, he filled out. His gangly limbs grew strong and his chest and shoulders grew broad. He didn’t have the soft skin and smooth curves that were usually associated with an omega. He was all well-trained muscle built around a sturdy frame. Not mating material at all and certainly not family material. But he was definitely soldier material.

Once he left his pack, he never looked back. Not once.

Though not a vain person, he nevertheless found comfort in his own body. He didn’t mind that he wasn’t what omegas were supposed to be like. He never felt like he had to be soft and delicate. He had confidence in himself because truthfully, his appearance never really mattered to him.

But as he stood in front of the full-length mirror, Dylan felt a nauseating twist in his stomach. Unsettled nerves sparked across his skin, making his flesh feel too tight and uncomfortable. An itch set in, far too deep to scratch.

He hated his reflection. He hated the soft edges that now framed the normally hard angles of his face. He hated the way his jaw and neck had smoothed out, his cheeks were fuller, brighter, and his skin was practically glowing. He hated how his broad, flat torso now swelled in the middle. He hated how the body he had worked so hard to keep sculpted was now softening and rounding.

The once toned body of a soldier was now the soft body of an omega, and he hated it.

His hands instinctively went to his belly. He stood shirtless, glaring at what he saw in the mirror. It didn’t look real. It barely felt real, as his fingers and palms moved soothingly over his swollen midsection, he found it hard to believe the image he saw was really him.

He’d felt the same kind of dysphoria when he’d been pregnant with Lily. It was a strange thing, almost an out-of-body experience. He felt detached from himself, his mind numb, like he was staring down at himself from above. He felt like another person. But back then, his dysphoria had been manageable. He’d been so wrapped up in the thought that he’d never have children and suddenly, there he was, having one. He’d just come out of being imprisoned by Lyphnia, and he’d simply been grateful for what he had.

And most importantly, he’d had Blake. He’d had his alpha there to comfort him, to soothe his anxiety, to distract him from his changing body, to keep him grounded and especially, to make him feel loved.

This time, however, he had to deal with it on his own, and he didn’t like it one bit.

He glared down at his belly, hating the fact that he could barely see his toes.

“Glaring at it isn’t going to make your pregnancy go by any quicker.”

Dylan glanced up, making eye contact with Rajiah in the mirror. The dragon shifter sat cross-legged on his bed behind him, his back straight, hands resting idly in his lap. There was a teasing smirk playing across his lips. On the far side of the room, Lily and Remi played, paying the adults little mind.

“I know it can’t be easy...”

“It’s not.”

“But your time is nearly here. After the...complications you suffered, we believe you could go into labor any time during the last month of your pregnancy.”

“Yeah, well, I wish it would hurry up,” he grumbled. His hands idly rubbing over his belly and guilt nagging at the edges of his mind. He frowned, hands stilling for a moment, fingers tightening protectively. “As long as he’s healthy.”

“Wouldn’t you rather wait until your mate returns?” Rajiah asked, hesitant and yet gentle.

Dylan stood still, eyes flickering back to his own in the mirror. That was the question, wasn’t it? Did he want his mate here for the birth of their son? The natural answer was yes, of course, but...now there were a lot of complications which made it a difficult question for him to answer.

“Does he even still count as my mate?” he found himself asking. He’d attempted to sound more lighthearted, crack a joke perhaps, to lighten the situation. It didn’t come out that way, however. It came out bitter and tasting sour on his tongue. In the mirror he noticed his lip curl.

“Dylan,” Rajiah said, brows furrowing as his lips pressed together hard. “You know very well he’s still your mate. No witch’s spell can change that.”

“He doesn’t remember me, Rajiah,” Dylan said softly, both because it pained him to say it aloud but more importantly, to keep his daughter from overhearing them.

Rajiah was already shaking his head. “He still has memories; the witches are certain of that. They’re just...veiled, suppressed. And besides, this isn’t a matter of memory or even a matter of legal matrimony. This goes down to our very biology. We are shifters, and when we mate, it goes much deeper than a wedding ring. You know that, and no amount of magic can change it.”

“I suppose we’ll see,” Dylan muttered, his shoulders sagging and a sigh escaping his lips as he turned back to the bed where his sweater waited. He pulled it on over his head, letting it settle loosely around him. It didn’t completely obscure his shape, but it was better than wearing anything too tight. It didn’t remove the problem or the dysphoria, but rather it put a small band-aid over it. “When is he due to arrive?”

“In two days time. He’ll be coming with three of the witches, who will stay here too. You remember Cynthia, Jesse, and Malcolm? We’re hoping to be able to foster better relations between pack and coven.”

Dylan nodded, running his fingers through his hair. It was getting long, curling at the ends over his forehead, around his ears, and at the nape of his neck. He desperately needed a haircut, but he hadn’t gotten around to it. When he looked in the mirror, it only added to his lost sense of self, but he couldn’t tell if the change was good or bad.

“And his memory is the same?”

Rajiah seemed reluctant to answer, his eyes shifting away toward the window, where the midday sun shone through the curtains, bathing the room in soft light. “There...hasn’t been any improvement. Magic doesn’t seem to be able to fix it. Abel’s spell still holds strong and he refuses to reverse it.”

Dylan grunted his acknowledgement. One hand fell to his stomach, and his fingers nervously played with the texture of his sweater. His eyes drifted to the two children playing across the room. They sat on the couch, a tablet between them as Lily showed Remi a game Blake had designed for her.

His chest squeezed tight, the air rushing out of his lungs in a defeated sigh. “I guess...I should tell her.”

Rajiah nodded, unfolding his legs as he stood silently. “I suppose you should.” He stepped over to Dylan, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “She’s a smart girl. She’ll understand.” His face scrunched up, brow furrowing. “She won’t like it, but I think she’ll understand.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like it either.”

Rajiah patted his shoulder lightly before stepping away. “We’ll figure it out, and we’ll get through this. You’ll see.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Rajiah walked across the room, arms open as a smile brightened his face. “Remi, my heart, it’s time to go.”

The boy looked up, a pout on his lips, defiance, albeit momentary, flashed in his eyes. “But we just got to the good part...”

Rajiah nodded, but scooped him up anyway. Remi struggled for a moment before giving in, pout still firmly in place. “I know, but Dylan and Lily need some father-daughter time.”

Dylan watched them go, his heart sinking to his stomach. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he grit his teeth and squared his shoulders. If he could charge onto a battlefield, he could do this. It was just his daughter.

Lily looked up at him as he sat on the couch next to her, her knees pulled up and tablet in her lap. Her hair was pulled into a haphazard bun. He’d tried to braid it earlier, but he’d never been any good at those kinds of things. Tasks like that were better suited to Blake’s dexterous, slender fingers.

“Hey, baby girl,” Dylan said gently, feeling his nerves buzzing just beneath his skin.

Lily’s nose wrinkled, eyes narrowing as she gazed up at him. “What’s wrong, Daddy?”

He blinked at her. “How’d you know something’s wrong?”

She shrugged. “I just do.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said, letting his arm sweep around her as he pulled her into his lap. “There’s just...something I have to talk to you about.”

She quirked her head. “Is this about Papa?”

“Yes,” he said, reluctantly.

Her face brightened slowly, like the dawn rising. A gap-toothed smile spread across her lips, pulling her cheeks up to crinkle her eyes. It made his heart ache. “Is he coming home?”

Dylan sighed. “Yes, but…” he added quickly, halting her whoop of excitement. She had begun to wriggle in his lap, but at his serious tone, she settled down. Her smile slowly faded, and he hated to see it go. “There’s something you need to know.”

She frowned, eyes searching his face. “Is...is Papa okay?”

“He’s fine, but...do you remember a few months ago when we had to go rescue Rajiah and Remi?” She nodded, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. He sighed heavily, but continued on. “One of the bad witches threw a spell at Uncle Arulean, and...Papa stepped in and saved him. But he got hit by the spell instead. Papa’s fine, he’s not hurt, but...but he doesn’t remember us.”

* * *

Blake and the witches were picked up by Arulean’s private jet. Dylan heard it circle once in a large lazy loop above the castle before heading off to the landing strip a mile or so away from the main compound. He exhaled slowly through his nose as he watched it go, one hand clutching tightly to the curtains.

Dylan wasn’t a stranger to being reunited with his mate. Given his job and his history of going off on missions, leaving his husband and daughter behind, he was used to the anticipation, trepidation, and anxiousness that came with the inevitable reunion upon his return.

This was the first time, however, that the nervousness wasn’t counterbalanced by a promise of sweet relief in the arms of his mate’s embrace.

Still, he’d never been one to shy away from the things he needed to do, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Taking Lily’s hand, they left their room and made their way through the castle to the front doors. Both father and daughter wore similar expressions: brows furrowed, lips set, and chins held high. Their steps were purposeful, and Lily walked with her chest puffed out just a fraction.

Telling her of Blake’s predicament had gone smoother than Dylan had anticipated, but that probably had a lot to do with Dylan having feared the worst. When it came down to it, Rajiah was right. Lily was smart, and Dylan and Blake had raised her with a foundation of truthfulness, rather than one of exaggeration and innocent lies just to extend her childhood.

It took a while for her to fully understand. She had kept asking questions about why Papa couldn’t remember her, but Dylan kept his answers simple. He painted Blake as the hero who had saved her Uncle Arulean, taking the evil witch’s spell on himself. The spell had made him forget his family. He kept repeating himself until she understood, and eventually she took it in her stride.

He didn’t quite understand the bitter taste that lingered in his mouth as he weaved the story of Blake’s sacrifice, but as he did with most things, he ignored it.

He was prepared for Lily to be saddened by the news, to cry, and perhaps draw into herself. He was prepared to console an aching child, his heartbroken daughter, and he had steeled himself for that eventuality. Instead, he had been faced with a child of steel and iron, fire blazing in her eyes. She declared that if Papa didn’t remember her, she would make him remember.

In that moment, Dylan saw himself reflected in her, and he was fueled by her determination.

Arulean and Rajiah were already waiting for them by the time they made it outside. They both stood facing the gravel drive, at the bottom of the steps leading up to the grand double doors. They turned as Dylan and Lily emerged from the castle, offering them reassuring smiles. But Dylan could see the worry in their eyes.

There were others waiting as well. Blake was a well-known figure amongst the Shadow Pack, and many had come out to welcome him back.

After all, he remembered them.

Bitterness swelled in Dylan’s gut, and he was forced to stamp it down.

Normally, he would wait at the front of the crowd, alongside Arulean and Rajiah to greet his husband’s return. As it was, however, he felt awkward standing there, like he didn’t quite belong. Blaming it on aching feet, he excused himself and went to stand further back in the crowd, leaning against the stone half-wall that led up the stairs. Lily stood at his side, practically bouncing on her toes.

Blake and the witches were picked up in all-terrain vehicles driven by a security squad, and soon they rode down the gravel drive without preamble.

Seeing Blake after his months of absence felt like a punch to Dylan’s lungs. The air rushed out and his chest squeezed tight. He watched as Blake dismounted from the vehicle, straightening his clothes and hiking the bag he carried more firmly over his shoulder. He stood straight and tall, chin lifted and an easy smile graced his lips as he turned to face the small crowd gathered by the steps to the castle.

He was beautiful, just as Dylan remembered him. His white blond hair shone in the mid-afternoon sun. It was a little longer than when he’d last seen him and was pushed back smoothly from his forehead, falling fashionably to one side. His clothes were simple, but he wore them like spun gold. Jeans and a buttoned top clung to his form in all the right places, showing off his broad shoulders, narrow hips, and long, lean legs. A light coating of blond stubble coated his sharp jawline, giving him a rugged look that had heat coiling in Dylan’s gut.

But it was his smile that really got to him. It was an easy-going smile, just a quirk of the lips that Dylan was so, so familiar with. His bright blue eyes saw everything. Blue eyes that Dylan had seen darken with lust, haze over with worry, sparkle with mirth, and dance with mischief.

The Blake standing in front of him was every bit the man who’d stolen Dylan’s heart, the man he married, the father of his children, and the alpha he claimed as his mate.

And yet he felt like a stranger.

They had a bond. The kind of connection between two hearts and souls that joins them in body as well. It was a connection they could feel each other through, and use to always be able to find each other. They could feel emotions through it, and communicate in ways that were intimate and honest. There was no lying when a mateship bond existed.

However, that bond, no matter how strong it had once been, had shut down the day Blake lost his memory, and Dylan hadn’t been able to feel his mate since. He’d been hoping something might have changed in his months away, that the spell cinching it closed might have loosened, or that it had faded enough to let them feel each other again.

Just a small touch. Anything. But as Dylan reached across the invisible bond they once shared, it was as cold, dark, and empty as it had been for months.

A chill ran through him, and he pulled back immediately, shutting his mental doors on it and sealing away his heart before the ache became too much.

The man in front of him looked every bit like his mate, but he felt nothing like him.

The other vehicles pulled up, and three familiar witches dismounted followed by the rest of the security team who arrived with their bags. Blake was already stepping forward, clasping forearms with Arulean and pulling the taller dragon into a hug before moving on to do the same with Rajiah. They spoke, smiles on their faces, and while Dylan could easily hear them, he didn’t listen.

His mind was a mess, and his heart was worse. It was in the midst of a chaotic storm of pain and ache, of hurt and anger, of sorrow and loss. It threatened to lash out, and he had to rein it in tightly. Everything he’d been refusing to let himself feel, lest he be swept away, bubbled, writhed, and threatened to crawl to the surface. With the discipline gained from his years as a soldier, Dylan held the feelings down, forced a smile onto his face that felt too strained, and stepped forward.

Blake turned to him as he stepped away from Rajiah, something uncertain passing over his features before they settled back into a smile. His eyes, however, remained oddly guarded, and Dylan knew him well enough to know the smile was just a mask.

So he wasn’t the only one feeling awkward about this reunion. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

“Dylan,” Blake said as they stepped up to each other, stopping with a few feet still between them. Dylan could reach out and touch him, but the distance between them felt like a chasm.

Dylan felt a shudder run through him as Blake said his name. He’d heard his name roll off that tongue so many times. He’d heard it said in so many tones and so many contexts. It rolled through him with familiarity, but it was strangely not enough. It was a warm and friendly greeting, but not the warmth of a lover. It was familiar, but with an edge of uncertainty. It was said with recognition, but not the recognition of a mate.

It was the greeting of a friend or an acquaintance, not of one’s husband, mate, and lover.

Dylan forced his smile a fraction wider. “Blake,” he said, voice like a whisper rushing off his lips.

Blake’s smile softened, eyes losing some of their bright shine but holding something far more genuine instead. “It’s...good to see you.” And while it wasn’t said with the kind of reverence Dylan had been hoping for, it was honest enough to ignite a spark of hope deep in his chest.

His hands rested on his swollen belly protectively, out of habit, and also as a way to ground himself. His fingers curled into the fabric of his sweater. “It’s good to see you, too.” And despite the raging chaos he kept locked away, he found the statement felt surprisingly like the truth.

He felt a lot of conflicting things at that moment, but he would rather have his mate here with him, even if he didn’t remember.

Blake’s smile quirked, his eyes giving it an apologetic edge as he tilted his head to one side, uncertainty creeping into the lines forming around his lips. Blake was a very charismatic man. One who never ran out of things to say and who could always find a way to speak. It was very rare Dylan saw him at a loss for words. And he’d certainly never seen it when Blake was around him.

Still, when Blake opened his arms, despite the hesitancy in the gesture and the dimmed light in his eyes, despite the lines around his lips and the rigidness of his posture, Dylan stepped into his embrace, wrapping his arms around Blake’s waist and burying his face in the crook of his shoulder.

And for one beautiful, brief moment, Dylan was able to ignore how tense the hug was, how Blake’s arms simply rested over his shoulders without truly holding them, and how the alpha seemed to be holding his breath. Instead, Dylan allowed himself to take a moment and lose himself in Blake’s familiar earthy and spicy alpha scent, the familiarity of his body and his warmth, and the familiar rise and fall of his chest against his own.

It was sweet, but it had a bitter aftertaste. It was only an illusion, and that illusion was shattered when Lily stepped forward.

“Papa.”

They stepped apart, their arms lingering for just a moment longer before drifting back down to their sides. They blinked and their eyes locked for a second, before they turned to look at the young girl who stood beside them. Her head was tilted back, lips pursed into a determined frown, small brows furrowed, and eyes sparking. He’d never seen a child look so serious. Her hand was holding onto Blake’s shirt, gripping tight.

He blinked for a moment, confusion coloring his features. In that moment, it occurred to Dylan that Blake had been carefully kept away from their daughter after he lost his memory, and he hadn’t seen her before leaving to stay with the witches. He bit his bottom lip, worry stirring sour in his gut.

“Daddy told me you don’t remember us,” she pushed on, voice hard and clipped for a child. She lifted her chin a fraction higher. “But you’re still my papa, and I’m gonna help you remember.”

Blake smiled. It was a far more gentle and genuine smile than the one he’d given Dylan, and he felt a twist of something ugly claw at the inside of his throat. Blake squatted down, resting his forearms on his bent knees as he balanced on the balls of his feet, putting him at her height. “You must be Lily.” His voice was soft and warm, making Dylan’s breath hitch.

Lily eyed Blake warily, looking him over like he was some kind of puzzle. Doubt started to pinch her face, and just for a moment a frown wavered on her brow. “Do you remember me, Papa?”

The smile he gave her was heartbreaking. “I’m afraid I don’t, sweetheart. But I’d like to get to know you, if you’d let me?”

He held out his arms, expression torn, and guilt in his eyes. It was a hesitancy that didn’t come from uncertainty but rather from the anticipation of rejection. Lily eyed him for a moment, face contorting with each thought she had, until finally she smiled, small and shy, and threw herself into his arms.

Their hug was far more genuine and warm than the one Dylan had received.

He turned his eyes away, fingers squeezing tight to the fabric of his sweater. He caught Rajiah’s gaze, seeing the sympathy in his amber eyes and the small, worried smile on his lips. Dylan frowned, looking away quickly.

When Blake and Lily separated, he stood and she took his hand. She was already talking, giving him the best description of the castle she could conjure. She was tugging him, leading him firmly up the stairs, toward the castle doors, determined to give him a tour of the castle and the grounds. No one had the heart to tell her that Blake remembered everything about the Shadow Pack and the grounds perfectly. The only gaps in his memory were Dylan and Lily themselves.

As they passed, Blake caught Dylan’s eye, offering a small, shy smile and a weak shrug as he gestured to Lily.

Dylan returned the smile, and had to swallow the bitterness as he silently waved them off.

Arulean turned to follow them, and the crowd started to disperse, silently deciding to leave their greetings until later, when Blake wasn’t with his daughter.

Dylan stared at the castle door long after the two of them disappeared inside, a frown on his lips and a pinch between his brows. His gaze was only torn away when a hand landed on his shoulder, and he turned to find Rajiah watching him carefully, a reassuring smile on his lips. “It’ll all work out. You’ll see.”

Dylan couldn’t bring himself to smile. “I hope you’re right.” He turned back to the castle, dread coiling and twisting in his gut. “I really hope you’re right.”