Chapter Thirty-Seven
Bast O’Connor
Beginning of Forever
Pine and rain cut through the window. But Bridget’s breathing drowns it all out.
She’s pressed against me, dark hair splayed across my chest. Sunlight hits the emerald marks on her throat—the ones that kept her alive.
The ones that bound us deeper than any Mathair could know.
The bond thrums between us like a war drum. Our hearts beat as one.
That knife wound’s almost gone. Nothing but a pale pink line on her side now. My wolf wants blood when I think about it. But seeing her here kills the rage—sleeping safe in our bed. Our territory. Where she should be.
Home.
My fingers trace idle patterns on her hip. She’s wearing one of my shirts again, the soft cotton riding up to reveal smooth skin. Mine. The word still sends a primal thrill through me, even after a week.
“You’re brooding again.” Her voice is sleep-rough, sexy as hell.
“Not brooding.” I nip at her shoulder, drawing a soft gasp. “Just thinking about how fucking lucky I am.”
She shifts against me, those incredible green eyes glowing as she meets my gaze. I feel her contentment and her absolute certainty that this is where she’s meant to be. No more shadows of duty or fear. Just us.
“Pretty sure I’m the lucky one,” she says, pressing closer. Her scent wraps around me like the best kind of drug. “Got my sister back. Gained a brother. And you.” Her fingers trace the marks on my collarbone that mirror hers. “You never gave up on me.”
My wolf rumbles with satisfaction. “Never will.” I roll us so she’s pinned beneath me, drinking in the way her breath catches. “Know what today is?”
“Besides the day you’re apparently determined to keep me in bed?” The sass in her voice makes me grin.
“One week since you chose us.” I brush my lips against that spot below her ear that makes her shiver. “Since you proved every one of their lies wrong.”
Her fingers thread through my hair as I trail kisses down her throat. “One week since you saved my life,” she murmurs. “Since you made me whole again.”
“Speaking of being whole…” The small box has been burning a hole in my nightstand drawer for several days. Waiting for the right moment. My wolf knows this is it. “There’s something I need to ask you.”
She tenses slightly, curiosity rippling through our bond. I kiss her once more, then force myself to pull away. The loss of contact makes my wolf whine, but I need to do this right.
“Bast?”
The confusion in her voice makes me smile as I reach for the drawer. The black velvet box feels heavy in my palm—not just the weight of the ring inside, but everything it represents. Everything I want to give her.
“I know we’re already mated.” My free hand finds hers, thumb brushing over the black marks on her wrist, the tattoos from our first bonding. “But I want to do this right. Want to give you everything—the ceremony, the party, the whole damn fairy tale if that’s what you want.”
Her eyes go wide as I open the box. The ring catches morning light—white-gold band wrapped in Celtic knots, emerald center stone the exact shade of her eyes when they glow. Had it custom ordered from a friend in Denver the day after we got back, while she was napping.
“Marry me?” The words come out rougher than I planned, my wolf’s need bleeding through. “Be mine in every way possible?”
Her emotions crash into me like a tidal wave—love and joy and a fierce possessiveness that matches my own. Tears spill down her cheeks, but her smile is radiant.
“Yes.” She surges up, claiming my mouth in a kiss that steals my breath. “Yes. Like there was ever the possibility of any other answer.”
The ring slides perfectly onto her finger—just like she fits perfectly in my life, in my soul. I kiss her again, pouring everything I feel into it. Her hands tug at my shirt, and for a moment I’m tempted to forget about everything else, to lose myself in her.
“We’re supposed to be at my mom’s for lunch,” I remind her, even as my hands slide under her borrowed shirt.
“We’ve got time.” She nips at my lower lip, sending heat racing through my blood. “Unless you’re in a hurry…”
The scent of her arousal makes my wolf growl. “Cruel woman.” But I’m already shifting over her, caging her body with mine. “Teasing your mate like that.”
“Not teasing if I follow through.” Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer. The bond pulses between us, amplifying every sensation until I can barely think straight.
A phone buzzes somewhere in the tangle of sheets. Then again. And again.
“Fuck.” I drop my forehead to her shoulder. “That’s probably Liam. Or my mother.”
Bridget laughs, the sound pure joy against my skin. “We should go. I want to tell Brianna and Reid.”
Her siblings have been staying at my mother’s place this past week, since she had the extra rooms, both of them healing in their own ways. The change in Brianna especially has been remarkable—watching her discover who she is without the Mathairs’ constant threats.
“Fine.” I steal one more kiss before rolling away. “But we’re finishing this later.”
“Promise?” The sight of her in my bed, wearing my ring, sends another surge of possessive satisfaction through me.
“Count on it.”
The drive to my mother’s takes longer than usual—partly because I can’t stop stealing glances at Bridget, and partly because of all the construction vehicles heading up the mountain.
The rebuilding efforts are in full swing, both packs working together to get as many cabins up as possible before winter hits.
Mom’s house comes into view, and I catch the flash of Bridget’s excitement through our bond. Cars fill the driveway—Liam’s truck, Rachel’s SUV, Dave’s massive pickup. Looks like everyone had the same idea for Sunday lunch.
“Ready?” I kill the engine, already scenting fresh coffee and whatever my mother’s been baking all morning.
Bridget’s fingers lace through mine, her new ring catching sunlight. “More than ready.”
The scene that greets us inside is pure chaos—the good kind that comes with pack and family.
Reid and Brianna are helping my mother in the kitchen, while Liam and Gen argue playfully over the last cinnamon roll.
Rachel and Lila are deep in discussion with Dave and his wife about housing arrangements for the displaced families, maps spread across the coffee table.
“About time you two showed up,” Liam calls out, finally winning the cinnamon roll battle. Then he freezes, nose twitching. His eyes lock onto Bridget’s hand in mine. “Hey, congrats—”
“What?” Gen’s head snaps up, then her face splits into a massive grin. “Look at that ring! Bridget!”
The room erupts into chaos. My mother practically teleports from the kitchen, pulling Bridget into a crushing hug while simultaneously smacking my arm. “Why didn’t you tell me you were planning this?”
“Because you can’t keep a secret to save your life,” I shoot back, but I’m grinning too hard for it to have any bite.
Brianna crashes into her sister from the other side, tears already streaming down her face.
Reid follows more slowly, but his smile is just as bright.
The three of them are getting along so well, and my wolf rumbles with satisfaction.
Jackson would’ve loved Bridget and Reid.
Some days the grief still hits fresh, but watching our family grow helps ease that hollow ache.
He always said pack was about more than blood—it was about choice, about love.
About building something bigger than ourselves.
Standing here now, I finally understand what he meant.
“Dave says we’ll have at least six cabins up before the first snow,” Liam reports, clapping me on the shoulder. “Between those, the lodge, and Banfield Court putting up several families too, everyone will have somewhere warm for winter.”
“Good.” The relief in the room is palpable.
“Speaking of homes.” My mother finally releases Bridget, wiping tears from her eyes. “Have you two thought about whether you’re staying in Bast’s cabin or moving to town?”
Bridget’s eyes meet mine across the room. “The cabin,” we say in unison.
“It’s where everything changed. Where I found home,” she adds softly.
“Spring wedding then?” Rachel asks, already pulling out her phone. “The Faire grounds would be perfect. We could—”
“Let them eat first,” Lila interrupts, laughing. “They’ve got plenty of time to plan.”
“Fine. I’m just saying. We should think about reserving some spaces.”
“We will, Mom.”
My mother starts herding everyone toward the dining room, where enough food to feed three packs covers every surface. It’s chaos again as everyone finds seats, passes dishes, argues over the last biscuit.
Bridget’s hand finds mine under the table. “I love you,” she whispers, leaning into my side.
I press a kiss to her temple, drinking in her scent, her warmth, the perfect feel of her beside me. “Forever,” I promise.
Around us, our family laughs and talks, making plans for winter, for spring, for all the days stretching ahead. My wolf settles, content in a way I never thought possible.
We’re home. We’re together. And this is just the beginning.
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