Page 23 of When Two Worlds Collide (Fated Mates, Stubborn Hearts #1)

EMBER

T he meeting stone is cold beneath my palms as I wait in pre-dawn darkness. Frost clings to the grass, and my breath mists in the air. I’ve been here an hour already, running through arguments, marshaling logic for what I’m about to propose.

Insane. That’s what Kade called it when I told him. Maybe he’s right.

Zane emerges from the forest like a shadow becoming flesh. Even at a distance, I feel the mate bond flare—stronger now, painful. We haven’t been alone since our kiss in my office two days ago. Two days of careful distance during council meetings. Two days of the bond eating at us both.

He stops ten feet away. Close enough to see the hollow exhaustion in his eyes that mirrors mine.

“You said it was urgent.” His voice carries the same ragged edge I’ve been fighting.

“The Alliance mobilizes at dawn.” I force the words past the tightness in my throat. “Forty-eight hours to surround all wild territories. Unless we present a united alternative today.”

“There is no alternative. Your council made that clear.”

“There’s one.” My hands shake as I pull out the rolled parchment. “A formal treaty. Full recognition of Shadow Wolf territorial rights. Joint governance of disputed regions. Haven’s Heart’s protection against the bears.”

He doesn’t move to take it. “In exchange for what?”

This is the moment. The cliff’s edge. Once I speak these words, there’s no retreat.

“Complete the mating ritual with me.”

Silence stretches between us. Even the forest seems to hold its breath.

“What?” The word comes out cracked.

“Three days. The wild claiming. I’ll submit to the pack law.” My voice sounds steadier than I feel. “In exchange, you sign the treaty. Help broker peace with other emerging clans. Give my people a reason to see wild shifters as allies, not enemies.”

Zane crosses the distance between us in two strides, gripping my shoulders. “Do you understand what you’re saying?”

“Yes.”

“No.” His hands tighten. “You don’t. The ritual isn’t something you can undo. It’s permanent. Absolute. You’d have to leave everything?—”

“I know.”

“Your position. Your brother. Your entire life?—”

“I know!” The words rip from my throat. “You think I haven’t spent every hour since we met thinking about this? Fighting it? Looking for another way?”

His grip becomes gentle, thumbs brushing over my shoulders. “Why? ”

“Because the bond is killing us both.” I meet his silver eyes. “Because war means hundreds dead on both sides. Because maybe the Moon Goddess knew what she was doing when she paired a wild alpha with a civilized diplomat.”

“Ember—”

“Because I’m tired.” The admission breaks something in me. “Tired of pretending I don’t want you. Tired of ignoring what my panther screams every time you’re near. Tired of being torn between two worlds when maybe the answer is creating a bridge.”

His hands slide up to frame my face. “You’d give up everything you’ve worked for?”

“I’d trade one purpose for another.” I lean into his touch, so tired of fighting. “But only if you meet my terms.”

A ghost of a smile crosses his lips. “Terms. Of course, you have terms.”

“The treaty will be signed before the ritual begins. Non-negotiable.”

“What else?”

“I maintain communication with Haven’s Heart. Not as an ambassador, but as a liaison. Someone who understands both worlds.”

He considers this. “The pack might accept that. Continue.”

“Any cubs we have”—I falter at the reality of those words—”learn both ways. Wild and civilized. They choose their path when they’re grown.”

“Bold assumption there will be cubs.”

Heat flares in my cheeks, but I hold his gaze. “The bond will demand it eventually.”

“True.” His thumb traces my cheekbone. “Other terms?”

“If something happens to you, I don’t automatically become some other wolf’s mate. I remain autonomous within pack law.”

His expression hardens. “You think I’d allow another to claim you?”

“I think alphas die.” The brutal truth hangs between us. “Sometimes in a challenge. Sometimes in battle. I won’t be passed around like property.”

“No one would dare.” The growl beneath his words makes me shiver. “But I accept. What else?”

“That’s all.”

He pulls back slightly, studying me. “No. There’s something more.”

I close my eyes. “Promise me we’ll find a way to make this work. That you won’t expect me to become someone I’m not.”

“Open your eyes.” When I do, his expression is fierce. “I don’t want you tamed, wildfire. I want you as you are—diplomat and warrior, civilized and wild. That’s who the Moon Goddess chose for me.”

The pet name breaks my last defense. “Then we have a deal?”

“Show me the treaty.”

We spread the parchment on the stone between us. Zane reads every line, asks pointed questions about enforcement, about protections for his pack. An hour passes before he nods.

“I’ll sign. But the ritual begins immediately after.”

“Now?”

“The blood oath must be sworn under the moon.” He glances at the lightening sky. “Dawn approaches.”

My heart pounds as he pulls out his ceremonial blade. This is happening. I’m really doing this.

“Your hand,” he says .

I extend my left palm. He makes a swift and shallow cut across the lifeline. Does the same to his own. Our blood mingles as we clasp hands.

“Beneath the Moon Goddess’s fading light,” he begins, voice formal, “I swear to honor this treaty between our peoples. To defend the peace it creates. To accept Ember Steelclaw as my mate, with all the bonds that claiming brings.”

My turn. “Beneath the Moon Goddess’s fading light, I swear to bridge two worlds through this union. To honor pack law while maintaining my oaths to protect all shifters. To accept Zane Blackthorn as my mate, surrendering to the wild claiming.”

Power shivers through our joined hands—the moon’s blessing on our oath. The mate bond pulses stronger, recognizing what we’ve promised.

“It’s done,” Zane says. “Sign the treaty.”

We use quills he brought, signing our names in still-wet blood. The symbolism isn’t lost on either of us.

“I need to file this with the council,” I say. “They meet in three hours.”

“You have one hour. Then we leave for sacred territory.”

“My brother?—”

“One hour, Ember. The ritual must begin before the moon fully sets.”

I run. Through the forest, into Haven’s Heart, up to the council chambers. I file the treaty with the night clerk, and send a rushed message to Kade explaining what I’ve done. He’ll be furious. They all will.

But the treaty is legal. Binding. And in forty minutes, I’ll be beyond their reach.

I return to find Zane waiting with two horses. “We’ll ride to the border of sacred territory. From there, we go on foot. ”

“In what form?”

“As our true forms. The ritual demands it.”

We ride in silence, the mate bond humming between us. My panther paces restlessly, knowing what comes. When we reach a grove of ancient pines, Zane dismounts.

“From here, no human words. No human thoughts. For three days, we exist as predator and prey, hunter and mate.”

“I understand.”

He strips without ceremony, folding his clothes into saddlebags. I do the same, trying not to think about how vulnerable this makes me. Not just physically—I’m about to spend three days in a form I usually hold for hours at most.

“Ready?” he asks.

I nod.

He shifts first—that fluid transformation into a massive black wolf. Then it’s my turn. The change comes easier than usual, my panther eager to be free. When I open my eyes, the world is sharper, clearer, reduced to essential elements.

Scent hits me first. Pine and earth and wolf—but underneath, the intoxicating pull of mate. My mate. The recognition is absolute in this form, no human rationalization to complicate it.

Zane approaches, larger even than I remembered. We circle each other, learning scent and movement. When he nips at my shoulder, challenge and invitation combined, my panther responds with a playful swipe of claws.

He bounds into the forest. I follow.

The hunt begins awkwardly. I’m used to hunting alone, striking from trees with fire and fang. Pack hunting requires different instincts—coordination, communication through body language, and shared purpose.

Zane is patient. He shows me through movement how to read wind patterns, how to use his strength to drive prey toward me. When I miss an easy kill by attacking too early, he doesn’t judge, just circles back, allowing me to try again.

By the time we bring down a young deer, the sun is high. We feast together, and something primal settles in my chest. This is what I’ve been missing in my civilized life—the simple satisfaction of hunt and kill, of providing and sharing.

As the afternoon fades, exhaustion hits. I’ve never held my form this long. My muscles ache, my control wavers. Zane notices, leading me to a sheltered grove where soft moss makes a natural bed.

I collapse, sides heaving. He curls around me, his larger body protecting and warming. His scent envelops me—safety, strength, and home.

No human thoughts, he said. But as sleep takes me, one very human realization surfaces: I’ve never felt more myself than in this moment, wild and free and claimed.

The ritual has only begun, but already I understand why there’s no return from this. Not because the pack law demands it, but because something in my soul has finally found where it belongs.