Page 28 of When Two Worlds Collide (Fated Mates, Stubborn Hearts #1)

“Impossible,” he sputters. “No Haven’s Heart diplomat would?—”

“Would what?” I interrupt, straightening to my full height. “Would form an alliance that saves lives? Would bridge two communities that need each other? Would honor a legitimate mate bond?”

Through our connection, Zane sends a wave of strength. I draw on it, letting some of my diplomatic mask fall away.

“Yes,” I continue, my voice gaining force. “Alpha Blackthorn and I have completed a traditional bonding ritual. It changes nothing about my commitment to protecting all shifters—wild or civilized. If anything, it strengthens my ability to facilitate cooperation.”

Fletcher seems momentarily speechless. The vampire and dragon exchange significant glances.

“This... complicates matters,” the vampire finally says. “The Alliance must reconsider its position if a formal bond exists between Haven’s Heart leadership and wild clan authority. ”

“Exactly what we hoped for,” Zane’s thought reaches me through our connection.

“I propose a compromise,” I say, stepping forward.

“The Shadow Wolves withdraw to their recognized territory, except for joint patrols established under our treaty. Haven’s Heart guards supplement settlement defenses.

When the council verifies the legitimacy of our alliance, we formalize longer-term arrangements. ”

Fletcher opens his mouth to object, but the dragon raises a hand to silence him. “A reasonable interim solution. We will take this to the full Alliance council. In the meantime, a temporary truce stands.”

Relief washes through me—temporary, but better than immediate conflict. Zane’s satisfaction pulses through our bond, though I sense his underlying wariness. He doesn’t trust the council to honor even temporary agreements.

The meeting breaks apart, council representatives withdrawing to send messages to Haven’s Heart. As settlers return to evacuation preparations, Zane pulls me aside, into the shadow of the meetinghouse.

“They’ll never accept it,” he says quietly. “Not really. Fletcher’s face?—”

“Fletcher doesn’t speak for the whole council,” I remind him. “Kade will support us. Elena would too. We’ve bought time.”

“Time,” he echoes, reaching to touch my face. His fingers trace my cheekbone with unexpected gentleness. “Something our bond doesn’t have much of.”

The pain pulses between us—that hollow ache of connection interrupted. An incomplete claiming can’t simply be resumed later. The ritual has rules, and patterns laid down over centuries .

“How bad?” I ask, though I already know. I can feel the strain in him, the way the bond stretches thin between us.

“Bad enough,” he admits. “The fight accelerated the process. Using our abilities together, drawing on the bond for strength, it deepened the connection without properly stabilizing it.”

“Like building a house from the roof down,” I murmur.

“Yes.” His fingers thread through my hair, the simple contact sending relief through the bond. “It needs completion, Ember. Soon.”

“We need to get back to your territory,” I agree. “Properly finish what we started.”

His expression darkens. “That may be complicated. Marcus received word from the pack while you were tending the wounded. Darin and several young warriors have called for a formal challenge.”

Ice spreads through my veins. “Because of me. Because of us.”

“Because of the bond. Because of the alliance with settlements.” His jaw tightens. “They claim I’ve betrayed pack traditions. That I’m no longer fit to lead.”

“When?”

“Tonight. Moonrise.”

Through our connection, I feel his concern—not fear of the challenge itself, but worry about facing it with our bond unstable. An alpha draws strength from his mate during challenges, but an incomplete bond makes that harder, more painful for both.

“Then we need to go now,” I say, determination replacing exhaustion. “Get back to your territory. Prepare.”

He nods, but his eyes remain troubled. “The strain of travel on the bond?—”

“We’ll manage,” I insist, though privately I share his concern. Already, the interrupted claiming burns like acid in my veins.

We leave River’s Edge as the wounded are evacuated, Shadow Wolf warriors and Haven’s Heart guards maintaining an uneasy truce as they escort settlers toward the northern caves. The journey back to wolf territory passes in tense silence, every mile increasing the pressure of the incomplete bond.

By the time we reach the Shadow Wolf camp, the sun hangs low in the western sky. The pack gathers silently as we approach, their expressions ranging from reverence to open hostility. I feel Zane drawing himself up, projecting alpha authority despite the drain of our bond.

“Marcus,” he calls. “Report.”

The beta approaches, bowing his head respectfully, though I notice his gaze slide to me with lingering suspicion. “Eight warriors stand with Darin. They’ve invoked challenge rights by ancient law. At moonrise, in the sacred circle.”

“So be it,” Zane replies. “See that the wounded from River’s Edge are settled in the eastern caves. Post guards against bear scouts.”

Marcus hesitates. “The pack questions whether we should continue protecting settlers when our own need defending.”

“The pack will follow their alpha’s command,” Zane says, voice dropping to a dangerous register. “Or challenge that alpha directly. There is no middle ground.”

Through our bond, I feel the strain this confrontation places on him. The incomplete claiming saps energy we both desperately need.

“We need to rest before moonrise,” I say quietly. “Strengthen what we can of the bond. ”

Zane nods, dismissing Marcus with a gesture. We walk through the camp toward his tent, and I feel the weight of the pack’s stares. To them, I’m still the outsider who’s drawn their alpha away from tradition. Only victory in the challenge will begin to change that perception.

Inside his tent, privacy finally allows the mask to drop. Zane sways on his feet, exhaustion and bond-strain taking a visible toll. I’m no better—my muscles tremble with fatigue, my skin burns with the need for proper completion of our connection.

“How long until moonrise?” I ask, already unfastening the borrowed clothes.

“Two hours,” he replies, watching me with silver eyes gone dark with hunger. “Not enough time for what the bond needs.”

“Enough time for what we need,” I counter, stepping toward him. “I can feel you fading, Zane. The interrupted claiming, the battle, the journey—you’re running on empty.”

His hands find my waist, drawing me against him. “So are you.”

“Then we feed each other,” I whisper, reaching up to pull his mouth to mine.

The kiss ignites like dry tinder. One touch and we’re consumed, the bond flaring between us with desperate hunger. His hands strip away my clothes with urgency that borders on violence. Mine do the same to him, needing skin against skin like drowning lungs need air.

We don’t make it to the furs. The earthen floor of the tent becomes our bed as he presses me down, covering my body with his. There’s no gentleness now—we’re beyond that luxury. This is survival, pure and elemental.

I wrap my legs around him, urging him closer, deeper. He enters me in one powerful thrust that tears a cry from my throat. The sensation borders on pain—too much, too fast—but the bond sings with relief, with rightness.

“I need—” he groans against my throat.

“I know,” I gasp, arching beneath him. “Take it. Take what you need.”

He does.

There’s no ceremony in this coupling—just raw desperation as we chase something beyond pleasure. His teeth find the claiming mark at my throat, reopening it. The sharp pain sends lightning through my veins, the bond surging in response.

I sink my nails into his back, drawing blood, needing to mark him as thoroughly as he marks me. The bond demands symmetry, balance, and mutual claiming.

When climax takes us, it’s less about physical release than spiritual necessity. Power flows between us, healing the frayed edges of our connection. Not enough to complete what was interrupted, but enough to strengthen what exists.

We lie tangled together after, breath gradually slowing, the worst of the hollow ache temporarily soothed. I trace the lines of his face, memorizing the angles, the scars, the subtle softening around his eyes when he looks at me.

“It helped,” he murmurs, kissing my palm. “I can feel it.”

“Not enough,” I reply, feeling the truth of it in our still-unstable connection. “After the challenge?—”

“After,” he agrees, though concern shadows his expression. “If I?—”

I press my fingers to his lips. “Don’t. You’ll win. We’ll complete the bond properly. There is no other option.”

He smiles against my fingers, but the worry remains in his eyes. We both know the reality—an alpha facing a challenge with an incomplete mate bond fights at a disadvantage. The traditional source of strength remains partially blocked, accessible but unstable.

We dress in silence as twilight deepens outside. I borrow clothes from the pack stores—leather pants and a vest that mark me as Shadow Wolf by choice if not by birth. Zane watches me with appreciation as I braid my hair back, preparing for what comes.

“No matter what happens tonight,” he says as we prepare to leave the tent, “know that I chose this. Chose you. Even knowing the cost.”

“There won’t be a cost,” I reply fiercely. “Only victory.”

But as we step outside to face the gathering pack, the moon rising blood-red above the trees, I feel the truth resonate through our bond. I can no longer be two things—Haven’s Heart ambassador and Shadow Wolf mate. Tonight forces a choice.

And I’ve already made it.