Daniel
Being here with Matthew was pure magic.
There was a time he thought this moment would never come again. Not after the silence. Not after the heartbreak.
It had taken ten years of hoping, pining, and secretly wishing on every shooting star.
So many things had gotten in the way. So many forces trying to divert them from each other.
Through it all, the Hollow Moon Rite had been the tether—linking their love across time and distance.
Oh, he’d tried to stamp it down. Being rejected for a woman chosen by someone else will do that to you.
And for that to happen mere hours after committing to a soul bond?
Devastating.
But now, it felt like they’d come full circle.
They were standing again in the snow beneath the full moon, amidst frost-tipped fir trees. Only this time, they were in the ancestral bonding grove of the North Star lands—a sacred place reserved for the rarest of unions. Long forgotten by most, yet still claimed and held dear by Daniel’s lineage.
Matthew stood before him now, coat hanging open, breath hitching in the cold, amber eyes locked to Daniel’s like he hadn’t aged a day since their last vow.
But he had.
So had Daniel.
“I read the Bond Ledger,” Matthew whispered. “Keiran showed me what we did… and what we never finished.”
Daniel’s breath hitched—a sharp intake of air that rippled through his entire body.
His pulse shifted.
His bear stirred—not for a fight.
For claiming.
He stepped closer, pulling a flintstone from his pocket. Matthew held its twin.
Without a second’s pause, they struck the flints together.
The flame sparked—not brightly, but enough.
They laid offerings on the snow. Daniel’s fur braid and bear claw tooth. Burned. Fused. Gone.
“Do you still choose me?” he asked, voice trembling in a way he hadn’t allowed in years. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the desperate, primal need flooding him.
“Your heart already knows my answer; I will always choose you.”
Daniel pressed his forehead to Matthew’s as the bond mark ignited in golden fire across both their hearts.
The feeling spread beneath his skin, a tangible heat radiating from his chest outward, warming his limbs and prickling his senses. His muscles tensed, coiled with a mixture of joy, love, and possessive rage—the desire to protect what was his warring with the bliss of reunion.
Finally, they were whole.
Daniel’s hand ghosted up the side of his mate’s cheek, fingers tangling in Matthew’s soft hair. He tilted his head back and sealed their bond with a scorching kiss—achingly sweet, like a brand, leaving his lips tingling.
He pulled back slightly, looking deep into Matthew’s eyes, then touched their foreheads together again. Their hot breaths mingled in the chill night air while their hearts beat in time.
Then—
A savage scream shattered the silence.
Daniel jolted, adrenaline surging. His jaw clenched. His canines ached. A growl clawed at his throat—a raw, untamed reaction to the scent on the breeze.
Claudia.
She stumbled into the grove, eyes wild, hands shaking, hair and face streaked with mud and twigs.
“NO!” she shrieked. “You don’t get to be happy! I fought, I sacrificed, I lost everything! And for what?!”
A glimmer of silver flashed in her hand as she swung her arm wide, face contorted, eyes flashing red—almost feral.
Daniel lunged forward, placing his larger body in front of Matthew’s, shielding him.
But she didn’t strike him.
Instead, she turned the blade inward.
Her lips moved rapidly, speaking a twisted invocation—dark and warped through rage and hate. A ritual meant to sever their soul bond.
The blow turned on her.
A flash of ether cracked the air.
Claudia’s form collapsed mid-ritual.
Silence followed—shocking. Cold.
Her magic had backfired.
The Hollow Moon Rite, forged in love and silence, had protected itself—refusing to be broken by the vengeance of a nonbeliever.
Matthew shook beside him, pale and wide-eyed.
Daniel pulled him into his arms, heart thundering.
Time, which had seemed suspended just moments ago, suddenly sped up.
Grady and Aunt Rhona appeared out of nowhere, followed by a swarm of others checking them over before hurrying to where Claudia lay.
Council healers arrived minutes later—high-vis jackets, flashing lights—drawn to the site by the ether flare.
Claudia was gone.
Body intact.
Soul dissolved.
Cast out by her own ritual.
As the healer lifted Claudia’s body onto a stretcher, Aunt Rhona stepped forward, placed her gloved hand over Claudia’s heart, and declared quietly:
“Ancestral law defends what is true. And punishes what is twisted.”
There was no grieving her passing.
Just a deep sense of peace.
Long overdue.
Daniel stood in the grove, arms wrapped around Matthew, the bond mark still glowing faintly between them.
The snow fell softly now, quiet and unbothered.
And for the first time in years, Daniel felt the future open wide before him.
Not as a battlefield.
But as a home.