Page 22 of Howling Love (Hunter’s Moon Ritual #1)

Ravik

Gracie’s crumpled expression held every ounce of my focused attention as I waited for color to fuse back into her cheeks.

Adrenaline surged through my veins, and my heart beat wildly as I tightened my grip on her, not truly hearing anything around me outside of her slowing breaths.

I would never forget the scene I’d just walked in on.

I’d been frustrated by my responsibilities every day since Gracie came home with us. But something about today made it worse. Knowing she’d eventually wake was one thing, but realizing she had woken up and was already moving through our city without me?

I trusted Thornar and Basir with my life—and now hers—but nothing would replace having her by my side, where I could ensure her safety myself.

After leaving a heated meeting with my captains about the Cold Moon Pack’s recent movement, I’d tracked Gracie across the city, following her vanilla and cinnamon scent—only to find her seizing on the ground.

Smoke had surrounded her, black but sparkling under the sun, and all I’d been able to do was pick her up as Thornar shouted for his sister to run into the temple to find help.

When Gracie’s seizures had stopped and her eyes opened, I felt relief—and fear. How could we predict something like that? What if one of us hadn’t been around to help? Although, if the look on Basir’s face told me anything, he blamed himself for what had happened, believing his touch had hurt her.

“I don’t understand what happened,” I said harshly. Thornar snapped his gaze back around, looking in the same direction as Gracie. I didn’t try to look for Basir.

When the bastard wanted to disappear, it was impossible to find him—or to see him coming. It was one of the many things that made him the best choice for Enforcer.

“I felt strange as we got close to the temple, but then when Basir touched me, it seemed to instigate something. The screams and pain were so horrible, and I felt like there was blood everywhere…” She didn’t quite finish the sentence, seemingly trapped and reliving the moment once again.

“Come on, let’s get you inside,” Thornar suggested as I strode into the Solspire with Gracie in my arms.

It was almost impossible not to be distracted by how beautiful she looked today, like there was a flame flickering just beneath her skin.

Those gold eyes were filled with caution, but also a life that had been dimmed at the trade conference.

The only thing that kept me focused on the task at hand and not absorbed by her presence was the knowledge that the sooner we got her inside, the sooner someone could assure me that she was okay.

Bringing her inside also satisfied my wolf, who was raging at the fact that so many people were looking at Gracie. It was my fault—it wasn’t every day that your future Alpha carried a collapsed woman through the street—but this wasn’t just any woman. This was lux mea .

“Basir will be back, little flame.” Thornar was staring at Gracie with concern, her gaze fixed over my shoulder. She gave a nod, but I could tell she didn’t believe him—not completely.

“What happened?” My sister rushed into the room, the door to her private shrine thrown open in her haste.

Solenne spent most of her days buried in work here at the temple, but her reasons were only partially related to duty.

It was the only place that she and her mate could be together all day without question.

The priestesses and priests of the Solspire were not supposed to take mates.

Their lives were supposed to be dedicated to worshipping Vorrakar.

The universe didn’t seem to agree, though, and had placed Solenne and Isara in the same profession so they could spend their days together without judgment.

“She passed out on the stairs, started to have seizures,” I answered as Solenne ushered us inside her shrine. Thornar shut the door behind us, Elowen staying on the other side. The shrine was barely large enough for two people, let alone five or six.

“But why? What happened?” my sister demanded. Solenne may have been my younger sister, but she’d always acted with a wisdom far beyond her years. And she was aware of who Gracie was to me—to us .

If I had it my way, everyone in our territory would know that as well.

The city was large, but news traveled fast. The Cold Moon raid and its fallout had spread quickly, and everyone wanted to know why we’d gone. My commanders—and even my father—might not like the truth, but it was simple: Gracie.

“Breathe, Sol. Let’s work backward and first see how she’s doing,” Isara said, motioning for Gracie’s hand. Lux mea offered it hesitantly, and I could see how fast her pulse was moving in her neck. Her body was clearly still reeling from what had happened.

“Of course.” Solenne offered Gracie a small smile. “I wish we were meeting in better circumstances, Gracie. I’m Ravik’s sister, Solenne, and this is Isara.”

Gracie nodded, but I could tell she felt overwhelmed. Tipping her head up with my fingers beneath her chin, I saw the fear there—the confusion.

“How do you feel?” I asked, trying to distract her from the two women checking her vitals. I tried to tone down the forceful and demanding nature of my questions, feeling an aggressive, almost unbearable need to check over every inch of her myself.

“I don’t know. After the ritual, something similar happened, but this came out of nowhere. I’m scared, Ravik.”

Those words fractured my chest. I leaned down and pressed my forehead to hers, unable to stop the urge to get closer to her. “I vow to you, we will figure this out.”

I didn’t understand the nature of our bond, whether it was a mate bond or something more, but I did know that I was connected to Gracie more deeply than I’d ever been to anyone.

I could feel her fear.

I could sense her reaching for grounding.

Gracie was accepting my protection, but she needed more—she needed answers.

“I don’t see any external injuries, and her vitals seem okay,” Isara said.

“So why?” Solenne demanded, looking from me to Gracie. “You said something about a ritual and that it had happened before…”

“When we rescued Gracie, she was being sacrificed in a ritual to Nyxarra,” Thornar said.

“When we took her from the altar, something happened—it created a connection between the four of us,” I finished.

Gracie tensed in my arms. Was she surprised I spoke openly about the connection, or about what my statement meant? Surely she recognized this connection as a mating bond. Dread tightened in my chest as I looked down at her, but her eyes were locked on my sister and Isara.

Gracie was mine—but did she want to be? I hadn’t even questioned it until now.

No. I had to believe that she did. There was no way she reacted to me as she did—melting into my touch—without knowing something existed between us.

“Like a mating bond?” Isara asked, surprised.

“And something more,” Thornar confirmed.

“More?” my sister echoed. “The Eight offer mating bonds as a guiding suggestion, not a forceful action—it’s formed through the fulfillment of physical and emotional ties. What you’re suggesting is…something else. I don’t have a word for it.”

Of course, Solenne was right. Normally, mate bonds were formed by mating in the traditional, physical sense, and through a vow ceremony witnessed by loved ones.

It was only in the oldest texts—ancient tomes in our library—that other types of bonds were mentioned: mates tethered to one another by fate.

Was that what we had been gifted?

A possessive wave of relief washed over me as I looked down at Gracie, her cheeks flushed pink and her eyes filled with confusion. Not ideal, but it was better than the fearful look that had been there moments ago.

Thornar was surprisingly quiet as he smoothed a hand over Gracie’s shoulder, then gently ran his fingers through the ends of her braided hair. I could guess what he was thinking, and I had no doubt he’d make his feelings clear very soon. He wasn’t one to hold back.

“That wasn’t the only thing that happened.” Gracie’s voice was soft as she straightened, pulling on a strength that sent pride surging through me. There was no doubt Gracie was strong, but I knew it would take time for her to fully recognize it.

We would surround her with shields until she was ready to charge into battle herself.

“When I was laying on the altar, I had a vision,” she said, her gaze going distant.

“It was the goddess Nyxarra, but she was sobbing…begging. She screamed that this ritual wasn’t her will.

I don’t know why, and maybe I’m misinterpreting, but she felt…

trapped? As if she were being held captive or someone was forcing her hand.

I don’t know how that would even be possible, but I can still hear her cries. ”

Gracie’s words held both truth and a shocking amount of new information. I watched her in surprise as Solenne and Isara fell silent.

“That…that is quite the vision,” Isara finally said, frowning as she looked at my sister. “We should do a ritual blessing—but more like an analysis. I think it’ll give us better answers.”

“Are you okay with that?” I asked Gracie, and she nodded immediately.

I looked to Thornar, who seemed as conflicted as I felt. If simply walking into a temple had triggered that reaction, what would an analysis do?

For the next ten minutes, my sister and her mate created a ritual circle around us.

They’d asked Thornar and me to move, but the panic that overtook Gracie’s face had us sitting on either side of her instead.

My hand wrapped around her waist while Thornar kept her distracted with light, relaxed conversation.

The bastard was far better at that than I was.

After what Gracie had undergone, rituals of any kind—any ceremony—understandably terrified her.

When Isara and Solenne began to speak soft words around us, our conversation stopped immediately. Gracie froze. My attention locked on her face, searching for any sign of pain, ready to stop the ritual the moment she showed distress. But instead, she just looked nervous.

When my sister approached, stepping into the circle, Gracie relaxed. “Your hands,” my sister said gently, motioning for Gracie to take hers. The air sparked once their fingers touched, the circle on the floor lighting up with a bright glow.

There was a magic that existed beyond shifting and our connection to The Eight—something older. Primordial. We didn’t have a name for it, but you could feel it pulsing through our territory, through the entire country. Some people could tap into it, and my sister was one of them.

White smoke began to roll over Gracie’s fingers and climb up her arms. If it scared lux mea , she didn’t show it. She just watched Solenne’s face with quiet curiosity.

After three painstakingly long minutes, Solenne stepped back and took a deep breath. The silence that followed was heavy as she and Isara began to clean up without saying anything.

Almost immediately, I gave in to the urge to run my hand up Gracie’s back and onto her neck, massaging the skin there lightly. When she tensed, I immediately stilled in confusion, meeting her wide-eyed gaze.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…nothing,” she murmured, breaking eye contact in a way that had a low rumble forming in my throat. I may have been an Alpha, but the last thing I wanted was for my mate to feel like she had to look away from me.

Thornar let out a low rumble, not satisfied with her answer either. “You’ve got to tell us when something bothers you, Gracie. Otherwise we won’t know to stop.”

Gracie blinked at his blunt honesty, and after a long moment she nodded in understanding before looking back at me. “I just wasn’t expecting your touch to be soft there. Ivan usually held me really hard on the back of my neck, and I was surprised that your touch felt different . ”

Her admission made my wolf growl deep in my chest, restrained but vicious. A flash of Ivan’s throat being torn out played through my mind. The bastard had escaped my wrath thus far, but every word Gracie said about him fueled the torture I planned to deliver.

“The minute you don’t want me to, just tell me,” I said, voice low and serious.

She nodded immediately, then melted between the two of us. I had so much to learn about Gracie, and last fucking thing I ever wanted was to scare her. Or worse, hurt her.

I had never walked on eggshells or lived cautiously. It wasn’t in my nature. But I found myself willing to do that and so much more just to ensure she was comfortable and happy.

“We need to talk,” Solenne said, drawing our attention back. Isara was sitting across the room, flipping through a large text with rapt attention, searching for something.

“Never a good thing to say,” Thornar muttered. “It might be better to tell us what’s going on.”

“The four of you are tethered,” Solenne confirmed, and Gracie nodded—her wordless agreement matching what we’d all felt.

“But you aren’t just tethered as mates. Your bond contains a god scar.”

“A god scar?” I had never heard the term.

“It’s a mark on your mating bond from one of The Eight—Nyxarra, specifically. It marks you as a champion of theirs. A chosen one,” Isara explained, carrying her book toward us and setting it on the table. “This book has a lot of information on the mythology behind it, but…”

“But what?” Thornar asked, reading the shift in her tone.

Solenne exhaled, finishing her mate’s thought. “Honestly? We’ve never actually heard of or met anyone who’s been a Vessel of The Eight. It makes sense, considering what you’ve told us, Gracie. But it’s still shocking.”

Isara’s expression was somber. “I wouldn’t tell others about it—at least not until you figure out why Nyxarra marked you.”

Gracie’s voice was quiet but certain. “I think her vision made it clear. I think she needs help. And I am—we are—supposed to help her.”

Thornar’s voice was low. “But who has the power to imprison a god?”

That was a damn good question.