Epilogue

Ten Months Later

February 13th

CHANNON

Channon had been run ragged by Valentine’s Day orders and a hot shower was just what he needed. While he normally showered alone to get rid of the stink of cooking oil and whatever he’d been cooking, Waylan had joined him today.

He’d had a harrowing ordeal at work, saving a child’s life in the parking lot because there were only minutes to spare on treatment. Channon could barely imagine the panic, stress, and heady weight of responsibility that put on Waylan, but Carole had called to ask Channon to drive him home because he was in no fit state to drive himself. With Adler needed to collect Eli from school and Tabitha on a weekend trip with her book club, Channon had been more than happy to bring Waylan home to be properly cared for.

The relief of his successful treatment hadn’t yet sunk in, and Channon imagined it could take hours for the trauma to fade into realising he’d done his job and saved a life. Until then, Channon had little choice but to distract him in any way possible, kneading at Waylan’s stiff shoulders as he basked under the hot water, occasionally and silently asking for kisses he was more than happy to supply.

Channon smiled at Waylan’s forgetfulness, wearing his glasses into the shower. He much preferred a partner who could see him to one that kissed Channon’s ear because he couldn’t find his mouth, but he still removed them and set them outside the enclosure for safe keeping. He’d wipe them clean later.

Waylan’s glasses were a constant source of enjoyment, from bittersweet, but pleasant, to funny memories. He’d never understood how blind Waylan was without his glasses until the first night he’d stayed over.

 

A smash woke him in the dead of night, startling Channon. He sat up, disappointed but not surprised the other side of the bed was empty. Waylan had never stayed the entire night, but that didn’t explain the distinctive grunt that echoed from the hallway. Slipping from bed, Channon reached for the bedside lamp and found Waylan’s glasses beside the base.

He walked to the living room, a lamp illuminating Waylan who groped his way along the sofa, limping. “What are you doing?” he asked, rushing to grab his hand and steady him.

Waylan gripped Channon’s hand. “I’m sorry I woke you. I tripped over your ridiculously large sofa,” he complained as if he hadn’t seen the sofa multiple times over the last two months of their relationship.

“The sofa?”

“Don’t laugh. I can’t find my glasses.”

Channon shook his head and propped the glasses onto Waylan’s face, tucking the frame legs behind his ears. “When you fell, I put the light on. They were on the table.” He wasn’t surprised Waylan blushed, as he must be realising if he’d switched the lamp on instead of sneaking around, he would have found his glasses. “I guess the old saying is true. You really can’t see what’s right under your nose. How did you survive Vihaan with such bad eyesight?”

Waylan huffed, clearly unimpressed with the teasing. “Why do you think I crossed the doorway?”

The cheeky answer had him laughing, then drawing Waylan closer for a kiss. “Honestly, how did you get by as a medic?”

Waylan squinted through his glasses. “I was young. My vision only started getting bad when I turned twenty-five. I needed glasses for reading, but by thirty I was on bifocals. Now I’m forty, my eyes are worse. I’m getting old,” he complained, clearly unhappy about the deterioration.

Channon kissed his nose in consolation. He was three years older than Waylan and starting to feel his age, despite Vihaans ageing much slower than Dnaran humans. By rights, neither were much different to a Dnaran in their early thirties. “At least you have a great ass.”

Waylan snuffed a laugh, pushing his glasses into place. “Sure. Who needs good eyesight when you have a good ass?”

“Not good,” he corrected with a wink. “You have a great ass.”

 

Channon still felt lucky to have him and would for a long time. Between the snarky attitude, Waylan’s ability to read his mind and argue without getting pissed off, his sweet parental nature with Eli, and the way he looked at Channon like he’d hung the moon, the Mother truly had blessed him.

Trailing his hand up Waylan’s chest, he let the water cascade over them and explored until Waylan told him otherwise. He wasn’t as skinny as he’d once been, thanks to Channon’s cooking, his stomach not concave but slightly rounded in a sign he was healthier than when they’d first met. A scar cut across Waylan’s stomach and the moment Channon traced the white line Waylan’s muscles clenched. He’d always wanted to ask the story behind the mark but hadn’t wanted to pry. Maybe tonight, when Waylan needed a distraction most, the timing was right.

“I removed my appendix,” he said, his voice quiet and soft in respect for the private space.

Channon raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the phrasing and not surprised Waylan had read his mind. “Are you saying you operated on yourself?” he asked, quite sure that wasn’t safe or even physically possible.

Waylan’s lips twitched in amusement. “I sustained the injury before we left Vihaan, when Russe attacked me. I didn’t realise until a week later that there was an internal injury. I presume crossing the doorway and my transition to human exacerbated the issue,” he explained, while Channon trailed the scar with gentle fingertips, pleased he didn’t feel pain from the contact. “I got sick quickly, and we were living in a tiny apartment until the Meskli’s contact could find a safe place for us. I nearly died.”

He darted his gaze up in shock.

“Do you really want to hear this story now?” Waylan asked, covering Channon’s hand to show that he welcomed the touch.

“Yes.” This might be just the story Waylan needed to remind himself that even deadly wounds could heal and time could fade the pain of memories.

Waylan nodded and moved his hand from Channon’s to explore his chest. “I suspected I was close to blood poisoning and had to instruct Tabitha on what needed to be done. After midnight, finding a doctor or surgeon would have taken too long,” he said distantly as though he barely remembered those early days. “I was given a surgical kit by the Meskli before we left and guided Tabitha on what to do. She was a marvel. If I had ever felt an attraction to women, I might have fallen in love with her that night.”

Channon smiled, surprised he could be flippant, but he supposed a doctor wouldn’t see how brave he’d been to let someone without any medical training operate on him. A week through the doorway, they had barely had time to get used to their new human form and he was stunned Tabitha had agreed. Knowing her better after months of friendship, he imagined she would have done anything to save Waylan’s life.

“I’m glad you had her,” he said, having come to terms with their close friendship months ago. If Tabitha had been in love with Waylan, he would have struggled to accept their bond, but she was a lovely, kind woman who only ever wanted Waylan to be happy. Channon owed her for that and her steady encouragement for Waylan to live his life. Now he knew she’d saved Waylan’s life when he’d been on the brink of death he owed her a far greater debt.

Waylan hummed and brushed his thumb over Channon’s nipple. “Are we done talking now?” he asked, smiling wide, so calm he couldn’t argue.

“I guess we’ll have to make up for lost time,” he mused, the time they’d lost from not being honest and not confronting their feelings sooner weighing heavily as he realised there was still so much he didn’t know about Waylan.

His lips twitched with the beginning of a smile. “I guess so. We’ve got plenty of time,” Waylan said, his eyes hopeful but guarded.

He hadn’t said the words, but Channon was in this for the long haul. Maybe Waylan would figure that out tonight when Channon took him to the nature reserve to run as kalou together for the first time.

*

WAYLAN

Channon took Waylan’s hand to lead him off the path in the nature reserve. They had Tathe’s permission to stay the night and visiting hours had ended long ago, so Waylan didn’t protest taking a shortcut.

After a year of dating, blending their lives and becoming a family―with Eli and Channon bonding, Adler learning from Channon’s experiences of Dnara, and even Tabitha making Channon feel welcome and part of their family―they had come to celebrate two milestones: the first year of their relationship and unfiltered honesty, and Waylan’s agreement to move into Channon’s cabin.

Finally, everything was going right.

Channon released his hand at the clearing. “Ready?” He peeled off his jacket to lay on the ground beneath a boulder he’d found to weigh down the bag holding their clothes.

“I suppose.” Waylan sank to the ground to untie his boots. Unlike Channon, he liked to get his feet on bare soil before he undressed.

Waylan hadn’t shown his kalou to a person outside his family in almost a decade. Three months into their relationship and three days after Eli’s sixteenth birthday, he’d asked to experience his first shift, and they brought him to this safe haven for a family trip, to help him find his other self. Since then, Waylan had wanted to use the privacy of Channon’s cabin as a way to share their kalou, to utilise that glorious windowed room in his cabin when the weather wasn’t suitable, but time hadn’t been on their side.

Tonight, Waylan wouldn’t let anything ruin the moment. Sharing this with Channon was another progression in their relationship and held far more weight than any other shift he’d made in his life.

“Don’t laugh if I walk into something,” Waylan cautioned, not for the first time this week.

Channon stepped forward to crouch and kiss the tip of his nose. “I never do, do I?” he teased, causing a flush to climb Waylan’s neck, remembering the first night he exposed his biggest vulnerability to Channon.

As Channon stood to finish undressing, he took the liberty of watching. He appreciated the view of the tall, broad and muscled naked man in his early forties. His skin showed signs of life that younger men didn’t have: stretch marks around his hips and waist, his stomach slightly podgy from a love of food, the grey at his temples and streaked through his ponytail. Every part of what showed his age made Waylan smile because these wouldn’t be visible in Vihaan. Channon wore them like a badge of honour, accepting that his age offered more wisdom than any young pup.

Waylan took his time removing his clothes, putting them straight into the storage bag while Channon removed everything haphazardly, then gathered the pile to shove into the bag. He’d grown used to the chaos despite his preference for order.

Channon’s back curved and he hissed as he bent double. The shimmer of the shifting magic distorted most of what he saw though the gasps and grunts of a man morphed into the growls and burrs of a kalou. As soon as Channon stood tall and proud in his other form, the coat gleaming healthily, the ruff around his face slightly flattened, Waylan stood. He stopped a foot from Channon, aware a kalou could move swiftly and silently when they wanted to.

The human awareness of Channon’s gaze lay behind startlingly large eyes and Waylan had never felt safer than in his company, even when Channon was a two-hundred kilo kalou, sniffing at his offered hand. The rich, burnt orange fur with stripes of black were beautiful in the fading sun.

Waylan reclaimed his hand, then brought upon his own shift, aware he was a head shorter than Channon even as a kalou. As his bones reshaped and twisted to convert one form into the other, Waylan felt Channon’s careful gaze upon him. Kalou from two opposing villages would normally end in a fight for territory but not tonight. Tonight was about celebrating, bonding and entering a new phase of their lives.

*

CHANNON

He’d never felt more lucky.

Waylan’s kalou was stunning, varying shades of orange that tapered to pale white under his belly, his eyes wide and alert. He bounded through the forest at Channon’s side, and he almost wished he could kiss the man.

The last year had been a whirlwind of revelations but none as important as tonight, when Channon felt the bond between them, tangible, tying them together. The Mother had decided they belonged together as the heecha had predicted, and with everything from that blessing fulfilled Channon had nothing left to guide him in life except instinct and Waylan.

It would be a hell of a journey.

They spent most of the night running as kalou, butting heads affectionately and bounding through the trees. They caught prey to eat and let their kalou have free rein.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and a new day dawned, Channon sank to the ground and let the shift reverse, waiting for Waylan to join him in the flesh before he kissed him. “That’s the most fun I’ve had as a kalou,” he confessed, needing Waylan to know he’d never shared anything like that with another kalou, even before he left Vihaan.

Waylan laughed, carefree in a way that made his heart swell. “I feel the same. I’ve missed this.” His eyes sparkled in the fading light but Channon imagined how his joy might increase if they shared this with Eli, enjoying a run as a family, all five of them. He hadn’t had a family in so long that the thought of being part of one again made his heart ache.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Waylan blinked, probably confused by the change of topic. “Is it?”

Channon stole another quick kiss. “It’s a new morning.”

“I suppose that’s fitting,” Waylan whispered, with a reverence that made Channon’s heart swell with love. “We’re starting something new amongst the sprouting roots and blooms that herald a new beginning and hope for the future.”

He was always positive, so hopeful for the future that Channon didn’t resist the instinct to wrap his arms around Waylan and draw him close. He couldn’t believe he’d almost missed out on this.

Together they were stronger than they were alone. These moments―these tender moments of stillness as Waylan lay his head on Channon’s chest to listen to his heartbeat―would forever remind him he’d made the right decision.

One day, Channon might risk another venture into Vihaan, with Waylan by his side, to tell the heecha their prophesy had come true. He had found his soulmate at long last.