Page 39

DELILAH

T he stars were kind tonight.

They blinked down over Celestial Pines like a string of lanterns hung just for them, suspended above the clearing behind the sanctuary where soft moss covered the earth like nature’s altar.

Moonlight spilled silver between the trees, quiet and clean, like a blessing only the forest could give.

Delilah stood still, heart thudding like a drum in her chest, one hand pressed flat over her ribs.

She wasn’t nervous.

Not exactly.

She just… felt everything. All at once.

The breeze whispering through her hair. The scent of lavender and moss from the garlands woven into her crown. The subtle shimmer of magic woven into her soft gray gown—courtesy of Missy and Junie, who had insisted a forest bride deserved a little sparkle.

And Rollo.

Standing at the end of the aisle. Looking at her like she was the moon come down from the sky.

His shirt was linen, simple, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His beard trimmed, his eyes warm. A circlet of pine rested atop his tousled hair, tucked with a single sprig of moonvine. He looked every bit the protector he’d always been—only now, the shadows were gone from his shoulders.

Delilah took one step forward.

Then another.

Hazel waited beneath the arch, flowers blooming from her shoulders like part of the earth itself. Wren stood beside her, healthy and glowing, her hand resting over her chest where life pulsed steady and strong.

The town had gathered, quiet but brimming. No fanfare. No spectacle.

Just love.

Dax offered her a thumbs-up and a cheeky grin. “About time you two stopped making us all dizzy.”

Delilah laughed.

But when she stepped beneath the arch, everything else faded.

Rollo took her hands, big and warm, scarred and sure.

Hazel’s voice floated above them, soft and grounding. “Tonight, under the moon and in the presence of root and wing, you bind not just fates—but choices.”

Delilah looked up at Rollo.

And he, at her.

Hazel continued, “This bond is not forged by prophecy or spell. It is strengthened by effort. By trust. By choosing each other again and again. ”

Rollo’s voice was low, trembling with emotion as he spoke his vow. “I spent too long thinking I had to stand alone. But you showed me strength isn’t being alone—it’s knowing who you’d walk through fire for. And I’d walk through anything, Delilah. So long as it brings me to you.”

Delilah blinked fast, lips trembling as she whispered, “You’ve been my roots when mine were gone. My compass when I lost the stars. You’re my anchor, Rollo. My home. And I choose you. Always.”

Hazel lifted her hands.

Magic shimmered between their palms—subtle but strong. A golden thread of light looping between them, twining around their fingers, their wrists, their hearts.

Wren stepped forward, her voice like wind through leaves.

“I bless this union with the forest’s breath. May it guide you, guard you, and grow with you. Together.”

The thread sank into their skin, disappearing—but the bond pulsed warm and real beneath it.

Hazel smiled, eyes soft. “You may seal your vows.”

Rollo didn’t wait.

He bent, catching Delilah’s lips with his, the kiss sure and sweet and entirely too long if not for the delighted cheer that rose from the town.

Delilah melted into him, laughter tumbling between them as he wrapped his arms around her and spun her once, boots kicking up soft moss.

They were met with embraces, cheers, flowers pressed into their hands—wild blossoms tied in ribbon, single sprigs of mint and rosemary tucked into buttonholes and curls. Laughter sparkled like sunlight off a stream.

Jace, the hardened and usually grumpy alpha of the shifter wolf pack, strode through the small crowd like a mountain wrapped in muscle.

He stopped before Rollo, studying him with a gaze sharp enough to slice bark.

Then, with a grunt, he clapped a heavy hand on Rollo’s shoulder. “You did good, Steele.”

Rollo smirked, one arm wrapped tight around Delilah’s waist. “You have no idea.”

Jace’s features softened just enough to reveal something like approval. His other arm curved around Lyra, who leaned in with the graceful ease of someone who could level a beast with a whisper or charm a storm into stillness.

Jace’s gaze landed on Delilah. He nodded once. “Glad you stayed.”

Delilah tilted her head, the weight of years behind her smile. “Me too.”

Lyra stepped forward, brushing Delilah’s arm with a friendly touch. “It’s nice having another woman here who knows how to balance fire and finesse,” she said, eyes twinkling. “Witch to witch, I look forward to sharing spells, tea, and maybe a little gossip.”

“Oh, especially the gossip,” Delilah whispered with a grin. “Rollo still thinks I don’t know he talks to the moon when he thinks I’m asleep.”

“I do not, ” Rollo muttered behind her, to a chorus of knowing laughter.

Dax, his long coat dusted in dried flower petals and what might’ve been flour, swaggered over and shoved a flask into Rollo’s chest with zero ceremony. “To not screwin’ it up.”

Delilah raised an eyebrow. “That’s the toast?”

“That’s the best toast,” Dax corrected with a wink.

She took a sip and immediately winced. “Burns.”

“Means it’s working,” Dax replied with a rumble of a laugh, tipping the flask back himself.

Behind him, Missy and Junie danced barefoot through the moss with string-lanterns hovering behind them, their dresses glowing faintly under a charm that made the colors shift with the music. They waved exaggeratedly when they caught Delilah’s eye.

“She cried, you know,” Junie mouthed dramatically, pointing at Missy.

“I did not! ” Missy yelled back across the field.

“You absolutely did,” Junie giggled, before spinning into a twirl that sent petals scattering.

Nerissa from The Spellbound Sip handed Delilah a small pouch of tea herbs. “For the honeymoon,” she said with a sly smile. “Helps with stamina. And other things.”

Delilah laughed so hard she had to lean on Rollo for balance. “We don’t need help.”

“Speak for yourself,” Rollo muttered, cheeks slightly red.

They moved through the crowd, stopping to hug elders, trade grins with kids, and soak in the kind of love that wrapped around their bones like old quilts—mended, warm, and full of memory.

When they finally reached the edge of the clearing, the music softening behind them, Delilah turned to face Rollo beneath the halo of moonlight. His eyes locked on hers like he could still hardly believe she was real.

“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” she teased, “and I’m gonna think you’re tryin’ to memorize me.”

“I already have,” he murmured. “But I like the view.”

She blushed, fingers twining with his. “I love you.”

His thumb brushed the back of her hand. “I know. I love you too. More than the woods, more than fate, more than breath.”

They stood there, quiet for a long beat, the forest behind them humming with life, the town before them full of joy.

And in that perfect in-between moment, Delilah finally understood what it meant to not be waiting anymore.

She was already where she belonged.

With him.

He slipped his arms around her waist from behind.

She leaned back into his chest. And sighed. Not from weariness. But from peace.

She had all of it.

Here.

With him.

Home.