Chapter 29
CRISS
They stood in the basin holding hands while the blue ward-light faded to a low, steady pulse and the morning settled into something that resembled quiet.
Criss could feel the magic still moving outward through the old ward lines, carrying its grief and its release toward town, but in the basin itself the air had gone calm.
Warm. Like a room after a long-held breath.
Steph's hand was small in his and gripped hard enough to whiten her knuckles. She was staring at the smooth stone where Rydan had been, her face wet, her breathing uneven.
"Tell me," she said, her eyes meeting his with intensity. "All of it. Now."
So he did.
He sat on the slab beside her and told her about the two weeks of surveillance.
The clay mask and the early mornings and the recordings gathered one by one, each one a piece of a case he'd been building while she thought he was keeping his distance out of indifference.
He played her the audio of Rydan discussing site destabilization.
Showed her the photographs. Walked her through the timeline, from the pride meeting where he'd challenged Rydan publicly to the quiet weeks of tracking that followed.
She listened without interrupting. Her hand stayed in his the entire time.
"I couldn't tell you," he said when he'd laid out everything.
"If you'd known what I was doing, Rydan would have seen it in your behavior.
He was watching you, Steph. The surveillance wards, the permit games, the supply disruptions.
He was tracking your every move. If you'd suddenly changed your patterns or started looking over your shoulder differently, he would have known someone tipped you off.
And he would have come for you before I had enough to stop him. Well, properly that is."
"So you kept me in the dark to keep me safe."
"Yes."
"And last time you did that, I told you it was the wrong call."
"I know."
"It was still the wrong call." She said it as a fact, not in anger. Then she squeezed his hand. "But I understand why you made it."
"I watched you these last two weeks," she said. "Through Twyla's gossip and through windows and across the square. You were different. Focused. Like you'd finally found something worth being serious about."
"I did."
"The truth?"
"You."
She looked at him. Morning light caught the gold flecks in her eyes and the dust still clinging to her lashes. She didn't flinch from the word or deflect it or armour up the way she had every other time he'd gotten close to something honest. She just looked at him and let it land.
"I'm tired of lying to myself," she said.
"I came here for the dig. That was true.
It's important and I'm going to finish it.
But somewhere in the middle of all this, it stopped being the only thing I cared about.
" Her jaw tightened. As if what she was about to say next could hurt her.
"You matter to me, Criss. More than I planned.
More than I wanted. And I'm done pretending that isn't real. "
His tiger went still in the way it only did for her. Cathedral quiet.
"There's something else I need to tell you," he said. "And I need you to let me get through it before you react."
"That's a terrifying opener."
"Yeah, well." He turned to face her fully.
Her hand was still in his and he held it with both of his now, her fingers threaded between his, her palm warm against his.
"You're my mate, Steph. Fated. My tiger recognized you the first night at the Griddle & Grind, before I even knew your name.
That's why I couldn't stay away. That's why I shifted to reach you when the ground collapsed.
That's why my body finds yours before my brain makes a decision.
It's not just attraction. It's a bond. Biological, magical, permanent if both people choose it. "
He watched her face, braced for the shock, the anger, the accusation of yet another thing he'd hidden from her.
"I know," she said.
He blinked. "You know."
"I've known for awhile. I went to the Book Nook after the first collapse at the site, after you held me in the dark and I felt you holding something back.
Lucien gave me three books on shifter bonding theory.
I read all of them in one afternoon." Her mouth curved, just barely. "The Ashworth text is very thorough."
"You read a textbook about mate bonds?"
"I'm an academic, Criss. When I don't understand something, I research it."
He stared at her. Then he laughed. It came out rough and unsteady and closer to breaking than he wanted to admit, but it was real, and her almost-smile widened into a full blown one.
"How long were you going to let me sweat?" he asked.
"As long as it took for you to say it out loud.
Or prove me wrong." Her expression sobered. "I knew something had happened. I’m naturally in tune with magic and yours was…loud.” She took a deep breath before continuing.
“The books explained the biology. They explained the recognition stages and the claiming process and the permanence of a mark.
What they didn't explain was why you were fighting it so hard. I needed to hear that from you."
"I was fighting it because claiming you means I can be broken by losing you. And I've spent my whole life making sure nothing mattered enough to break me."
"I know that too." She freed one hand and pressed it flat against his chest, over his heart. "That's the part I needed you to say."
They sat in the basin with the blue light humming under their feet and the open chamber behind them and the weight of everything that had happened pressing in from all sides. His heart hammered against her palm. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.
"I need to say something," she said. "About how this works. If this is what we're doing."
"I'm listening."
"I don't need a protector. I need a partner.
Someone who brings me information instead of filtering it.
Someone who trusts me to handle difficult things instead of deciding what I can take.
" She held his gaze. "I know that's hard for you.
Your instinct is to shield. Mine is to shut people out.
We're both going to be bad at this. But I need you to commit to trying. "
"I can do that."
"I'm not finished." Her voice was steady but her eyes were bright.
"I also need to admit something, and it's harder for me than anything you just said.
" She took another breath. "I struggle to accept help.
I default to handling things alone because that's been safer than trusting someone and being let down.
My ex reinforced that. My career reinforced it.
And when you tried to help at the dig site that first time, I punished you for something that wasn't really about you. "
"You had a point. I was being controlling."
"You were being protective, and I couldn't tell the difference because every man who's ever tried to help me had an agenda attached. You didn't. I know that now. And I'm committing to learning the difference." She pressed her hand harder against his chest. "Partnership. Not protection. Deal?"
"Deal."
"And if you ever hide something from me again because you think it's for my own good, I will end you. Mate bond or not."
"Noted."
She kissed him hard and slow, all at once. Her hand on his chest and his hands cupping her face, thumbs tracing the line of her jaw, and the taste of dust and salt and her. When she pulled back, her forehead rested against his as their breath mixed.
"We need to go to the council," she said quietly.
"I know."
"Emmett needs to see the recordings. He needs to know what happened here.
What Rydan did to those families, what he tried to do to me, all of it.
" She pulled back enough to look at him.
"And the chamber is fully open now. The inscriptions, the names, the full history.
It needs to be documented and presented formally before anyone can argue it should be sealed again. "
"We'll go together."
"Obviously." She stood, brushed the dust from her jeans, and extended her hand to him. "Come on. We've got a council meeting to crash."
He took her hand and let her pull him to his feet.
The basin was quiet around them, the blue ward-light steady in the carved channels, the chamber mouth open and waiting.
The magic that had been released was still moving through the land, carrying the grief and the truth of seventy years outward into a town that would have to reckon with it.
They walked down the eastern trail together, hand in hand, her field pack on her shoulders and his phone heavy in his pocket. The morning sun was warm through the canopy and the birds had come back, filling the forest with joyful noise.
"Criss."
"Yeah?"
She looked at him sideways, gold catching the light in her hazel eyes. "I want to know everything about the claiming. What it means. What it feels like. Everything. When we get done with the council."
"Everything," he promised.