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Alina

I kiss him without hesitation.

I don’t mean to, really. What I mean to do is telling him yes, of course, you limping, beautiful idiot and then drag him back to the house where he can continue resting.

But the side of me that loves him so much it makes me sick wins.

Everything is so impossibly perfect. The flowers, pretty little bluebells bursting free from the damp earth, cushioning our steps and dancing in the breeze. The fireflies, too, which seem to be dancing around Rowan as if eager to offer my mate a crown of starlight.

Rowan’s hand is still cradling mine, wrapped around the carved cedar wolf he made for me. His expression is reverent and open, and I know that he’s never dared be so vulnerable with anyone else before. There’s no fear in his eyes, no hesitation. Only hope and love.

I know that’s exactly what this is.

He loves me.

He loves me more than he cares about the prophecy. More than he regrets the potential for ruin that’s always loomed like a shadow over his head.

I pull back just enough to see his face. His pupils are blown wide,his breath uneven. There’s a tremble in the hand still holding mine, like he can’t quite believe this is happening—both of us here in Greenbriar territory, back where it all began.

Honestly, I’m having a hard time maintaining my grip on reality, too.

Even when I hated him, I wanted this.

In my stupidest and wildest fantasies, I used to imagine this. That he’d show up one day, broken and sorry and wild with need, and he’d fall to his knees and beg me to take him back. To repair the bond we never got the chance to savor. To be his, truly and fully. I used to dream of this moment in the dark, in those long and aching nights when I was pregnant and alone and terrified. When I would curl around my growing belly and whisper promises to the child inside me.

Promises that I didn’t think I’d ever be strong enough to keep.

But maybe I am. Maybe I’ve always been stronger than I gave myself credit for. And maybe now, finally, it’s time to stop running.

“I always thought,” I murmur. “That if this ever happened, if you ever came back for me, I’d slam the door in your face. I’d curse you out and tell you that you were too late.”

“You did do that.”

“I tried.”

“I know.” Rowan frowns softly, recalling those rocky first few days between us when our paths unexpectedly crossed again.

“But when you say those words, Rowan, when you sit here and ask me to be your Luna, I feel like I’m standing in the middle of a dream I never let myself have.”

I let out a breath, shaky and raw.

“I’m scared,” I admit. “I’m still scared. Trusting doesn’t come easily to me.”

Rowan kisses my forehead lightly. “I know, baby.”

I reach out, cupping his cheek, running my thumb along the stubble at his jaw. “But love is scary, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that fear is sometimes the clearest sign you’re standing in front of something real.”

He turns his face into my palm, eyes closing, and I feel the warmth of his lips press gently against my skin.

I smile through the rush of tears. “So, of course I’ll be your wife. I’ll be your Luna. I’ll stand by your side, no matter what.”

The moment the words leave my mouth, the bond between us swells so suddenly and violently that I gasp. It feels like what I imagine being struck by lightning is like, but softer and sweeter. A thousand threads of golden light pull tight between us, snapping into place, forging something stronger than fate itself.

He rises to his feet then, pulling me gently up with him. His arms slide around me, one hand splayed against my lower back, the other tangling in the base of my braid.

He kisses me like it’s the first time. Like he’s been waiting a decade to taste me again. I know he has.

I melt into him, letting the bond settle into every aching, hollow space inside me. There’s no more room for doubt, not anymore.