Page 29

R owan

Everything hurts.

Not in the normal way, either. It’s not the kind of pain I can grit my teeth through and keep moving with. It’s not a sore muscle or random scrape.

This is the kind of pain that pins me down, saps my strength, and makes the world blurry at the edges. The kind of pain that has settled into my bones and is now howling throughout my bloodstream.

Honestly, I’d like to think I’m no stranger to suffering.

I’ve taken claws to the ribs before. Teeth to the throat.

I’ve broken bones as a kid and later in training, and had them re-broken and splinted without medication.

I’ve rejected the Mating bond and felt the agony of my own heart being torn straight from my chest.

But this pain is worse, mostly because I’m not supposed to be feeling it this acutely. My body should be healing by now. Shifters bounce back fast, and especially Alphas.

But something has stalled, according to Nora, the head healer, and we all know what it is.

Alina.

There’s still one final piece of our bond that lies in tatters.

I didn’t know it either until right now, when I can feel those jagged tendrils brushing against my wounds with all the careless pressure of a bull in a china shop.

We’ve made our promises, made love on the bed of those promises, and gone to war at each other’s sides…

and yet, the bond still thirsts for more.

While I do my best not to let the pain pummel me into complete submission, Alina sits beside my bed, her fingers twisted together in her lap.

The room is quiet except for the occasional creak of the old wood floors and the hushed murmur of Nora preparing her various salves and concoctions in the next room.

My parents are also here, quiet and watchful.

Even Cal and Noah sit across the room, the elder talking to the boy in low tones. I can hear Noah’s heartbeat skip every time he glances my way.

He’s still not sure what to make of me, even now. I don’t blame him. He all but watched me kill someone. Even if it was necessary, I know that’s not an easy thing to know your own father is capable of.

My son.

And my Mate.

I almost lost both of them.

“Rowan,” Alina whispers, squeezing my hand.

I look at her. Just the act of turning my head sends a flare of agony down my neck and into my chest. But I do it anyway, because looking at her is worth the torture. It’s the first day that I’ve been able to keep myself conscious for longer than a few minutes.

She meets my gaze. Her eyes are dark with worry, but there’s something stronger underneath. There’s a glimmer of resolve in those big, brown eyes of hers. Something that tells me that she can, in fact, feel what still lies broken between us.

“I have an idea. It’s an old tradition,” she murmurs. “If we complete the official Mating ritual, it will help you heal faster.”

I stare at her. Not because I didn’t think of it myself, but because it’s her saying it. Alina, who has spent a decade of her life hiding from me. My love, who once denied the very bond that still pulses between us like a second heartbeat.

“Are you sure?” I ask, voice searing up my throat like a razor blade. “ Feels a little sudden, baby, considering you were still slamming door in my face a week ago.”

Her lips twitch into an almost-smile. I can tell she really wants to roll her eyes right now. “Well, you did drive across my flowerbeds.”

“Fair.”

“I don’t want to rush this,” she says, more quietly now. “But you’re not healing. And that’s not okay with me. I need to do this. I need to help you, Rowan.”

I study her for a moment. There’s a soft glow on her cheeks.

Embarrassment at her own vulnerability, maybe, or the warmth of all her leashed love blooming beneath the surface.

She’s nervous, and it’s not because she’s afraid of me.

It’s because this is real now. There’s no undoing it. No going back.

“Just a small ritual,” she murmurs, brushing a strand of sweat-dampened hair off my face. I’ve had a fever since they carried me off the battlefield. “A binding touch, and then my strength will be your strength. My health will be your health. Our bodies will be as bound as our hearts and souls.”

“Sounds rather dramatic.”

Alina sighs. “Your jokes don’t land when you’re this helpless.”

“All right,” I rasp. “What do we do?”

She shifts forward in the chair, lifting a small clay bowl from the bedside table.

I didn’t even notice her preparing it. Inside, there’s a mix of herbs—lavender and sage and something sharp, like pine resin.

She dips her fingers in water and presses them to the dried herbs, murmuring something under her breath in the old Celtic tongue of our ancestors.

I recall the words from weddings I’ve attended over the years.

Kseniya or one of the elders must have taught the words to Alina while I was lost to pain-induced delirium.

“Give me both of your hands,” she says softly.

I grit my teeth and push through the pain, lifting both hands. One is bruised from a couple of crushed bones, and one is still crusted with dried blood under the nails. She takes them gently, reverently, and starts to trace the herbal paste along my skin, down my knuckles, and across my wrists.

Her touch is tender and sure. I am the one who trembles .

I am vaguely aware of our audience, but the others are so still and silent that we might as well be ensconced in our own bubble.

“I bind my strength to yours,” she says, voice low yet clear. “I offer you the gift of my healing, and receive yours in return.”

The shimmering magic of our tethered souls responds immediately. It sings between us, electric and ancient. The bond, half-shattered and frayed at the edges for so long, flares bright and golden.

Complete, at last.

I gasp. My chest seizes up. Not in pain, but in awe. My wolf pushes forward to the surface, desperate to howl and claim, although I’m in no state to do so.

Alina doesn’t look away. Her eyes are locked on mine.

“You’ll heal faster now,” she whispers.

She presses my hands between hers and leans forward, brushing her lips lightly against my brow.

The touch scorches through me, a blessing and a promise from my beloved mate.

And just like that, the pain dulls.

I exhale slowly, my body finally relaxing. The weight of the agony lifts, just a little. My heartbeat steadies. My eyelids droop as a blissful sleep seeks to pull me away into a healing current.

“I…love you…” I manage to get out before being dragged under.

A week later, and my tattered body no longer needs to be held together with bandages and stitches.

It’s been a long, seemingly endless week of waking to the soft cadence of Alina’s breathing as she dozes in the chair beside my bed.

A week of whispered conversations, half-smiles, and her warm fingers brushing mine when she thinks I’m asleep.

A week of strength returning to my bones like roots burrowing deep into the earth, all thanks to the Mating bond being strengthened to the highest level by the ancient Greenbriar ceremony.

Alina didn’t just risk her life to avenge me after the Blackburn shot me down. She has offered me a piece of her soul, has bravely and lovingly twined her life with mine so that we will always have each other for strength.

She’s barely left my side.

Technically, though I can now hold myself upright and walk on my own, I’m still supposed to be resting. That’s what Nora keeps barking at me, usually while shaking her head and muttering something about stubborn Alpha blood.

But I can’t lie down any longer. It’s not in my nature. I’ve done enough lying still. I need to move. I need to feel the earth under my feet again.

And I also have something extremely important to do this evening.

Alina isn’t happy about it, though. She’s perched on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, brow furrowed in that way that makes her look like the world’s most beautiful storm cloud.

“You’re pushing it,” she says for the third time.

“Just a walk.”

“You’re not fully healed.”

“I’m not fully dead either,” I counter with a half-grin.

She rolls her eyes. “You’re not funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny,” I tell her, reaching for her hand. “I just need to breathe for a minute. Outside. With you.”

That softens her. She sighs, letting me lace my fingers with hers. “Fine. But the second you look like you’re about to pass out—”

“I’ll lean on you.”

Her mouth twitches. “All right.”

In any event, the river isn’t far, just a gentle slope down from my property. We used to come here as kids—me, Cal, and the rest of the boys our age—splashing in the shallows until someone skinned a knee or got scolded for soaking their clothes.

Now, in the first breaths of spring, it’s quiet. The only sound is the gurgle of water tumbling over smooth stones and the wind rustling in the tall grass. We haven’t had rain in a while, so the water level remains low and the ground is dry.

The most important detail, however, is that the bluebells are already in full bloom. It’s a small miracle, and one that makes me wonder if the very earth beneath our feet has conspired to help me with what I hope to accomplish this evening.

After all, bluebells are Alina’s favorite flower.

At least, they were in seventh grade when I once overheard her saying to the teacher that her favorite time of year is when the pretty blue flowers blossom to life and carpet the forest floor for as far as the eye can see.

I have kept that detail tucked away safely ever since then, even before I had any inkling that she was my Mate.

The fireflies are also out in full force, pulling their weight in adding to the ambience of the pleasant evening. They twinkle and flash like stars, darting lazily between the leaves.

Alina walks beside me, close enough that her shoulder brushes mine every few steps.

Her braid swings gently behind her, loose and golden in the late afternoon sun.

She’s let herself relax a little out here.

I can tell from the way her fingers aren’t clenched, and when I notice that the delicate creases at the corners of her eyes have softened.

“I didn’t know the bluebells started blooming,” Alina whispers, almost to herself. “They’re my favorite.”

Instead of murmuring I know, I pull her close and press a kiss to the top of her head.

I stop walking when we reach the bend where the river curls around a small outcrop of mossy boulders. This used to be the place I’d always come to when I need clarity. Or courage.

It’s the place where our Mating bond first snapped into place, all those years ago.

“Let’s sit,” I say.

She arches a brow. “You sure you don’t want me to carry you?”

I smirk and lower myself onto the ground anyway. “I’d rather die with dignity.”

She laughs. The sound of it is like sunlight. I could live off it like a yearning plant.

We sit in silence for a moment, side by side, letting the river speak for us. I can feel the bond humming gently between us now, no longer frayed or strained. It’s whole and undeniably alive.

Alina stares out at the water. “Noah asked me if we’re staying here.”

My heart skips. “And what did you tell him? ”

“I told him yes.” She glances sideways at me, shrugging as if it should’ve been obvious to me. “He seems happy. Your mother taught him how to make honey cakes yesterday, and Cal let him ride his back in wolf form around the yard.”

I snort at the image in my mind. “Bet he loved that.”

“He did. It’s strange. He fits in here so well, like he’s always belonged.” She pauses. “And maybe I do, too.”

I reach into my coat pocket. My fingers close around the object hidden there, small, carved, and familiar.

I worked on it every day this past week when she went to bathe or sleep.

As my body slowly repaired itself using the gift of her strength, I smoothed the edges, shaped the wolf from cedar, and burned the Greenbriar crest into the belly.

It takes a few grunts and some stiff maneuvering, but I manage to kneel.

She turns sharply toward me. “Rowan, what are you…?”

“I’m asking you,” I say, holding the token out between us. “To be my Mate.”

Her mouth opens, then closes again.

“You are my Mate, Rowan.”

“I know.”

“The ceremony…”

“I don’t just want to be bonded by instinct or in pain,” I forge ahead. “But fully and officially, as tradition demands. I want you to be my Luna. Rule beside me as my queen. You’re already everything to me, Alina. All I’m asking is for the chance to prove it out in the open in front of the pack.”

She stares at the carved wolf in my hand like it’s a shard of starlight I’ve stolen from the sky.

“And what about the prophecy?” she whispers.

I exhale, eyes never leaving hers. “Kseniya told me it has already come to pass.”

That makes her blink.

“She told me something I never thought I’d hear.” I smile faintly. “She said she was wrong. ”

“The wise woman is never wrong. ”

“She said the ruin she saw wasn’t the ruin of me.

It was the ruin of my heart and soul, the very ruination that I caused by rejecting you.

Not only that, but the ruination that came later when I fooled myself into believing that a Greenbriar Alpha must lead alone.

That strength can’t come from love, and that I’d be fine without you.

It was a twisted, tricky prophecy, and she apologized for not taking the time to understand it more deeply. ”

Alina’s lips tremble. Her eyes shine.

I take her hand and place the token in her palm, folding her fingers gently around it.

“Anyway, I don’t care what destiny says anymore. All I know is that I’m yours. And I want you to be mine, in every way.”

For a long moment, all I hear is the river, the wind, and the thud of my own heart.

And then she leans in.

She kisses me, soft and slow and sure. Her answer doesn’t come in words.

It doesn’t have to. I already know. She’s saying yes.