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When my eyes opened, I saw the shift of light in the room—or lack thereof—and realised that we’d been out for some time.

I peeled myself off the bed, having no memory of moving from the chair to here, but several arms reached out and pulled me back down again.

It was then that I heard the groans and rustles of my men waking.

Jack woke first, looking up blearily, and took a moment to blink his vision clear before smiling when he saw me.

His eyes trailed down until they came to the bite mark he’d left on me, and there they stayed.

He tugged me down beside him until we were lying there face to face, his smile not faltering.

It felt sweet and close, like we were a couple of teenagers who’d just found love or something. Then we heard Hawk’s groan.

His head popped up over Jack’s shoulder, and his grin was a reflection of his lover’s when he saw us.

“Congratulations,” he said.

“To you too, love,” Jack said, and tugged his head down to kiss him.

My clit, the little fucking Trojan, twitched at that, but I told her in no uncertain terms that there would be no more playing today, and tomorrow also had a question mark against it.

I felt a deep, not entirely unpleasant ache up inside me that would need looking after in the next few days.

Surely the good women of Sanctuary would have some sort of recipe for this, an ointment or salve to ease the pain of being very well used by your harem.

And I was. I rolled onto my back on the bed, arms stretched out above me as I just relished that.

I’d never had a day where I’d lost count of the orgasms I’d had before I came to Sanctuary, and I definitely wanted to revisit that when we got home.

Shack up in our new place, lock the gate, and see just how far we could go…

“Someone’s looking pleased with themselves.” Slade looked down at me with a smile, his eyes still crusted with sleep. “What’s got you thinking happy thoughts, princess?”

I liked the way his hand slid across my abdomen possessively, like he had a right to it.

Consent was king in Sanctuary, something I was bloody happy about, but I liked that we could start making assumptions about each other—that we did want each other, that we would, for the most part, welcome each other’s touch.

But not right now.

I grabbed his hand before it slid any further.

“Sorry, but the vag is out of order until further notice.”

He grinned and then kissed my forehead. “S’OK, love. I dunno if I’ve got another one of them in me. What the fuck was that?”

“Good question,” Finn said, his voice scratchy. “That needs to be the first task on the list.” The others groaned at that, and it was now apparent everyone had woken up.

“Glad you broke that bond with that fucker, Sylvan,” Aaron said. “Only one seer for this pack.” I glanced back to see Brandon’s smile, which quickly turned into a kiss.

“So, who’s breaking the news to him?” Jack asked with a wicked grin.

Hands went up all over the bed.

“Well, while you guys are working out who gets to be arseholes to our only source of Volken intel, I’m having a bath. I saw some kind of bathroom back here,” I said, rolling off the bed.

There was a simple wooden tub already filled with water, stone cold now, so I shivered as I dropped into it. Everything hurt, but I felt a burning need to get clean. We were bonded now, I didn’t have to keep walking around like I’d been rolling on the floor in a porn theatre.

“You OK?”

Brandon moved over to the bath, grabbing a washcloth and cleaning the blood from his neck. I was momentarily distracted by the trail of a single drop of water wending its way down his chest, but recovered and answered, “Yes.”

It seemed like a manifestly inadequate word to use as a response, but I realised as I shivered, sluicing off the coarse lemon scented soap I’d lathered in, that all words were. How do you fucking describe metaphysical, sexual, bonding, giant wolf god experiences?

He seemed to understand, dropping the cloth back into the tub, his grey eyes warm. “C’mon, I’ll dry you off.”

And so, in the quiet of the late afternoon, my mate patted me dry with a towel worn soft with much use, and then we dressed, ready to face this feast the albino dudes wanted to hold for us and then Leifgart.

“Ah, our Tirian guests, I…” Ralnor’s voice trailed off as he inspected the lot of us with wide eyes, the very pale irises standing out clearly in the early evening sunlight. “You’ve become a pack.”

“Yes,” I said, feeling the guys move closely around me. It was as natural as breathing—this need to be close to each other.

“Well, this is auspicious! We celebrate the pursuit of Branwen by Lonan at this time every year. To have such a successful hunt and the creation of a Tirian pack within our village brings us much honour.” He gestured to some of the women bustling around, bringing dishes out to be placed on long trestle tables.

“Gitrud, Jana, bring our guests a drink immediately.”

Branwen. My jaw tightened at the name of the woman I’d seen in Sylvan’s dreams.

The women dropped down into neat curtseys and then rushed to do his bidding, coming back toting more tankards of the like given to Sylvan. Speaking of the Volken seer, where was the little bastard?

“Sylvan?” Finn said. That was interesting. We weren’t quite in each other’s mental space, but there seemed to be a degree of groupthink happening here. “Where did the Volken seer go?”

“Volken seer? The man with the blue eyes you left in the square?” If Ralnor looked chuffed before, now he was ecstatic.

“Elen, Cynar, Mael! Bring the rugs and the best pillows. Not the ones from the meeting hall! They stink of your worthless hides! Yes, the ones in storage.” He turned to us and gestured expansively at the table of food.

“I will have the seer brought before you forthwith. Please, come and eat! Formalising bonds can be exhausting, from what I’ve been told, and you plundered the old portal ruins. ”

“Thank fuck,” Slade murmured to me as we moved towards the table. “I’m about ready to eat the crotch out of a low-flying duck!”

So, with that, we piled our plates with food, having missed meals all day. As if summoned by the offer of sustenance, Aaron’s men returned and joined the line, and the chatter as everyone served themselves was upbeat.

“We’ve retrieved most of the important stuff, Moonie,” Johnno said, carefully forking food so as to not aggravate his injured side. “We’re bloody lucky these Uldareel--”

“Uldariel,” Aaron corrected.

“Whatever they are, they did us a good turn collecting our stuff. Sorted it all out, even picked up stray bullets and shit. We are short on food, though. We’ll need to see if we can buy something from them or start hunting.”

“Good to know. I’ll follow up with Ralnor later, once everyone’s fed.”

Ralnor buzzed around like a blur arsed fly, making sure the place of honour was set up just so, and then he ushered us over to what looked like a massive daybed, heaped with cushions.

The seven of us ended up reclining against them, eating with concentration at first, then slowing down to savour the complex and unusual tastes as our bellies filled.

“Ah,” Ralnor said as the sun began to set, his men now seated at the edges of the square, some eating with gusto, others toting tankards in one hand, yet more with arms wrapped around the waists of pretty girls.

“The time of Branwen ends, and the time of Lonan begins. We celebrate the coming of the Great Wolf on this night, the longest night in the year, marking the time when his eternal pursuit of white Branwen threatens to come to an end, when he closes down on her heels, cornering her in her den, approaching her with a low growl.”

Chuckles went around the square as Ralnor spoke the words with a theatrical flair. Some of his men growled as he spoke, their sounds muffled by the necks of their women.

“Is this the year when Lonan brings his mate to ground, swallowing the light forever?” Two youths came running up in answer, dipping sticks wadded with fabric in the fire so they caught alight, then bringing the flames to their lips before spitting what was apparently a flammable liquid into it, sending great plumes of fire into the night sky.

“We say no!”

Cheers went up at this, the youths now dancing with considerable grace, some of the other younger members of the village running to join them. They twisted and twined, looking for all the world like flames personified.

“Mead… mead… mead…!” cried the crowd as the dancers twirled, making circuit after circuit around the fire. Great brown bottles were handed out among those sitting down on chairs or cushions or even bare stone, and they took great swigs from the bottles before passing them on.

“For your pack’s strength,” Ralnor said, handing one to us. It was huge and heavy, several litres at least. “May it bring strength to Branwen and allow the sun to shine again.”

Hmm, I’d seen who they called Branwen—both in human and wolf form—and wasn’t entirely sure how the two meshed, as they seemed very different. I guess the same could be said for me and my Tirian, bossy bitch that she was.

I merely refuse to accept the stupidity you have been raised to believe.

Yeah, right.

“Who the hell is Branwen?” Finn asked.

I shared with my pack the vision I’d seen when in Sylvan’s head, which caused a shuffle of interest in the group.

The guys started passing the mead, Aaron’s men particularly pleased at this.

“Don’t go too hard,” Aaron warned. “We roll out at first light, with or without you.”