CHAPTER 2
Nearly five hundred wolves gathered together on the floor of the hollow. The elder mystic looked down on them with watchful eyes, granting time for anyone still on the fence about joining the ceremony to make up their mind.
When it was clear that no one else would come forward, she lifted her skirts a few inches and took the narrow stairs down.
The shifters gathered inside the towering monoliths parted like a sea for her as she passed through them.
She climbed the dais and came to a stop at the plinth.
Her gaze rose, taking in the crowd seated around her.
“Goddess be with you,” she said, her voice magically enhanced.
“Goddess be with you,” we answered.
Those born with magic were rare among our kind, cherished, respected above all others.
The woman in front of us now might not come from my pack, or the person’s sitting next to me, but mystics were transcendent beings, blurring pack lines, sworn to aid all wolves when called to.
In a way, that meant she belonged to all of us, and many among our number would lay down our lives to keep her from coming to harm.
The lines around her eyes deepened when she smiled.
“For those of you who have never witnessed a bonding ceremony, welcome. There will be great power released here today. It is completely natural for that magic to bring on the shift. Feel free to give in to the urge at any time. I only ask that you rise from your seats and do so up in the field so as not to disturb the others in attendance.”
Several wolves near me chuckled, one father reaching out to ruffle the hair of his adolescent son. The boy grinned up at him with a bashful expression.
I looked back to the hollow and saw the mystic’s hands fall to the belt at her waist, coming to rest on a knife hilt secured there. I recognized the runes carved into the leather sheath. It was the same one I had seen all those years ago at my first bonding ritual.
When she spoke again, it was to address the wolves closest to her.
“This is among our most sacred of ceremonies. It asks the most of those who take part in it.” She pulled the sickle-shaped blade free and laid it on the stone plinth.
“It asks you to give yourselves up to the will of the Goddess. To accept that she knows you as no one else does. That she sees you down to the very core of your being. She has heard your every prayer. She knows your deepest desires. She loves your flaws even as She does your strengths. And because of this, she alone can find your true mate, the one wolf among all others able to love and accept you as she does.”
Her expression hardened. “But if you came here today harboring ill intentions in your hearts, know that the Goddess sees you and that she will likely reject and punish you for it. If you came here hoping for an easy match, be warned. Wolves taking part in the ceremony have found themselves bonded to blood enemies. The path that lies ahead of you is difficult. At times it may seem impossible to follow, the worst mistake you ever made. Look inward now, and ask yourselves if you are truly ready to face such a challenge.”
Several in the crowd below shifted uncomfortably. I couldn’t blame them. Good thing I’d shown Gia tough love earlier. It prepared her for the much tougher love of this mystic, who offered no words of comfort to soothe the sting.
Minutes passed before the elderly wolf spoke again.
“For anyone in doubt, now is your last chance to change your mind. There is no shame in doing so.” Her gaze rose to the crowd watching from above, and her tone turned commanding.
“The wolves here today will not judge you for your decision, but applaud your wisdom in delaying a lifelong commitment that you knew yourselves unprepared for. By the Goddess, they promise this.”
“By the Goddess, we promise this,” we answered as one.
Down below, the wolves who had doubts started filing out of the crowd. They were perhaps thirty in number. I searched them for Gia, who I’d lost in the sea of taller shifters. She wasn’t among them. I let out a heavy sigh and settled back into my seat.
Once they cleared out of the hollow, the mystic leaned forward and picked her knife up.
She placed the blade of it against the palm of her left hand, and, with surgical precision, sliced it across her skin.
A thin band of crimson appeared as her blood welled up to fill the wound.
She lifted her injured hand and turned it parallel to the dais, so her blood dripped down upon it as she paced slowly around the plinth that rested at its center.
When the circle was complete, she paused, lifting both hands into the air, elbows bent and palms up as she spoke an incantation in a language that caused the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end.
It was a guttural, lupine tongue filled with snarls and yips, punctuated by longer keening sounds.
Only our mystics spoke it, though the rest of us could feel its reverb in our very bones.
When she was finished, she made a circular motion with her still bleeding hand, ending it with a violent slashing gesture. Magic flared. My skin broke out in goose bumps as an invisible yet somehow still perceptible barrier rose between the monoliths, separating those within it from the rest of us.
The mystic returned her hands to her sides, her wound already healing with preternatural swiftness.
“The shield is in place. We can begin the ritual. I now ask those who remain within it to step forward one by one. You will take this knife as I did,” she said, holding it aloft, “and likewise open your palm. Press your bleeding hand to the plinth, and then file toward the back of the crowd. This may take some time. I welcome you to be seated when your turn has ended.”
A trim Black woman close to my age with thick, multicolored braids was the first brave soul to step forward.
The mystic smiled down at her and handed her the knife.
The young woman hissed in pain as she dragged it across her palm, but passed it swiftly to the next in line while she pressed her bleeding skin to the plinth.
The smear of red marred the granite for only a moment before slowly being absorbed into what should have been impenetrable stone.
Not a hint of it remained visible afterward.
I could tell from the gasps around me that there were wolves in the audience seeing this little bit of WTFery for the first time. A grin tugged at my lips. Gia and I had been so freaked out by this part of the ritual when we were kids that we had to be shushed by the adults around us.
You think it might get boring, sitting up here and waiting in silence while hundreds of shifters took turns cutting themselves open. It wasn’t. Between the continuous build of power and my anticipation of seeing Gia, I was locked in, my sole focus on the ceremony unfolding below.
A blond head moved forward to take the knife.
I sat up higher to get a better look. Gia?
The figure strode from the crowd, hair cropped short, wide shoulders draped in expensive fabric.
Ugh. Nathaniel. I deflated a little and turned my gaze toward where the Kolbecks had sat.
Michael was still there, spine ramrod straight, chin lifted as he stared intently at his younger brother.
His jaw clenched, and he nodded. I followed his gaze and saw Nathaniel, his hand bloody, nod back up at Michael before retreating to the back of the crowd.
Huh. They’d come to find Nathaniel a mate.
He must have been serious about it if he decided to remain even after the mystic’s warning.
I hoped that was it, and that they weren’t here for some other, nefarious reason.
It wouldn’t end well for them if they were.
The mystic wasn’t lying when she said the Goddess would find the wolves who harbored ill intentions and punish them for it.
A few minutes later, Gia stepped forward to mount the dais.
She moved with purpose, her motions swift and decisive as she added her blood to the plinth.
That composure cracked just a little as she turned, finding me in the audience.
She grinned wide and gave me a thumbs-up with her uninjured hand. I smiled back and returned the gesture.
It hit me then, that after this, everything could change. My parents once told me that the bond had been overwhelming for them at first, everyone else becoming secondary. They’d barely spoken to their families, briefly lost contact with friends.
I’d been so focused on helping Gia through this that I hadn’t thought about what it might mean for our relationship.
She was about to gain a life partner. Someone who might supplant me as her closest confidant, her secret-bearer.
I could be left alone, forced to slog my way through life without her playing the critical role in it that she had occupied since our first day of kindergarten.
The pain of that thought was like a visceral thing. Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes. I bowed my head and gave myself a minute to wallow in self-pity, and then to accept it all.
I took a deep breath, wiped my tears away, and lifted my gaze back to the ritual.
Whatever happened from here on out, I’d be here for Gia, just like I’d promised.
If that meant stepping back and allowing her the time she needed with her new mate, so be it.
When the bonding fog finally cleared and she had enough bandwidth to allow me back in, I’d be waiting.