10. Caius #3
“Ensuring what, Elder?” Anouk steps forward, her new claiming mark gleaming in the settling light. “What exactly have you been ensuring?”
Cordelia’s mouth snaps shut.
The silence that follows is deafening.
“I think,” Anouk continues, her voice carrying the authority of someone who’s just had her world rearranged and emerged stronger for it, “that this gathering is concluded. Unless there are further accusations you’d like to make, Elder Cordelia?”
Cordelia stares at her. At me. At the claiming marks visible on both of us.
“This isn’t over.” The words come out barely above a whisper.
“No.” Anouk meets her gaze without flinching. “I don’t imagine it is.”
The crowd parts for us as we leave.
I fall into step beside Anouk without discussion, my hand finding the small of her back through her formal robes. She doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t stiffen. Just keeps walking, her spine straight and her expression composed, every inch the leader she’s always been.
But I feel her trembling. Feel the residual magic still humming through both of us, binding us in ways I’m only beginning to understand.
The claiming mark on my chest burns with pleasant heat. Not painful. Just present. A constant reminder of what just happened.
We make it outside. The evening air hits my face, cool and grounding after the chaos of the chamber. The mist swirls around us in golden spirals that draw attention from every passerby on the street.
“Well.” Anouk’s voice is remarkably composed. “That wasn’t how I expected this evening to go.”
“No.” I guide her toward a quieter side street, away from the watching eyes. “I don’t imagine it was.”
“The entire coven just watched us claim each other.” She says it like she’s testing the words. “Publicly. Irrevocably. In front of Cordelia and half the Elder Council.”
“They did.”
“This is going to have consequences.”
“Significant ones.” I stop walking, turning to face her in the shelter of an alcove. The golden mist blooms outward from where we stand, already thickening. “Does that concern you?”
“It should.” Her eyes find mine in the dim light. Those dark depths hold exhaustion, uncertainty, and beneath it all—heat. Wonder. The beginning of acceptance. “Everything about this should concern me. The politics. The timing. The way we just handed Cordelia exactly the ammunition she wanted.”
“But?”
“But.” She reaches up, her fingers brushing the mark visible at my collar. The touch sends sparks racing across my skin.
I catch her hand, pressing her palm flat against my chest where the mark burns warmest. “I’ve sensed you for so long. This just makes it… undeniable.”
“Undeniable.” Her laugh is soft, slightly brittle. “That’s one word for it.”
“Inevitable is another.” I pull her closer, her body fitting against mine like she was designed for this exact position. “Anouk. I’m not sorry. For any of it.”
“Neither am I.” The words come out barely above a whisper. “That’s what surprises me most. After everything—the politics, the scandal, the chaos we just caused—I’m not sorry.”
“Good.” I cup her face in my hands, tilting her gaze up to meet mine. “Because I’ve been wanting to do this for a very long time.”
“Do what?”
I answer by kissing her.
It’s not gentle. After years of restraint, gentle is impossible. The kiss is fierce and desperate and claiming in ways that have nothing to do with magic—just two people who’ve spent too long denying what they wanted finally giving in.
She responds with equal intensity, her hands fisting in my jacket, her body pressing against mine. The claiming marks on both of us pulse with heat—approving, celebrating, binding us closer with every heartbeat.
The golden mist around us has thickened, swirling in delighted patterns that probably confirm every suspicion Mistvale has ever had about us.
“The whole town is going to know by morning.” Anouk’s voice is rough, her lips swollen from our kiss.
“Let them know.” I press my forehead against hers. “I’m done keeping this quiet.”
I kiss her again—softer this time, a promise rather than a claim. “We should get somewhere private. There’s still a murderer to catch and a conspiracy to expose.”
“Very romantic of you.”
“I try.” But I can’t stop smiling. Can’t stop touching her—her face, her hair, the mark on her shoulder that matches the one on my chest. “Tomorrow, everything changes. The politics, the investigation, our lives. But tonight…”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight, you’re claimed.” I let the word settle between us, heavy with meaning. “And so am I. Whatever comes next, we face it as a matched pair.”
She studies me for a long moment. Then her lips curve into a smile—real and warm and more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen.
“As a matched pair.” She echoes the phrase like a vow. “I suppose I can work with that.”
We walk home through streets thick with golden mist, her hand in mine.
Somewhere behind us, the Elder Council Chamber sits empty, still echoing with the shock of what just happened.
Somewhere ahead, Cordelia is probably already planning her response.
But right now, in this moment, none of that matters.
The wolf has finally claimed his witch.
And against all odds, she’s claimed him back.