Chapter 26 #2
Acorn’s fur flattened against his body from the wind. His eyes were wide, but he wasn’t chittering in panic. He was actually grinning, his small paws gripping Feral’s fur.
I was grinning too.
We cleared the halfway marker, a large blue torch set at the base of an ancient tree. I leaned forward, expecting Feral to push hard toward the bonfire.
He slowed instead and turned.
“That’s the wrong direction,” I said, pointing the other way.
He kept going.
We broke through the tree line into a moonlit meadow. Silver grass swayed in the breeze. The quiet was a stark contrast after the noise of the compound.
Feral stopped and dropped to his belly.
I slid off, my shoes sinking into soft grass.
He shifted.
Acorn hopped to the ground and scampered toward the tree line. A squirrel knows when to become a tree. He hurried into the woods and disappeared.
I turned to ask Feral what we were doing here only to find him down on one bended knee, looking up at me with so much hope it made my chest ache.
My brain stuttered to a halt.
“Marry me,” he croaked.
“We’re already married.”
“Yes.” He took my hand. “But that was arranged.”
I waited, my heartbeat loud in my ears.
“This is real.” He stroked my knuckles. “I want to do it again. Properly this time. With words I chose instead of words someone handed me.”
All logic fled my mind. We were legally bound. The ceremony had been completed. There was no practical reason to repeat it.
Except there was.
I looked at him for a long moment. He didn’t rush me, just stayed on one knee in the moonlit grass with my hand in his.
“You picked flowers,” I said.
“I forgot to add water the first time.”
“You learned.”
“I’ll keep learning.” He paused. “If you’ll have me.”
“Yes.”
He stood, sweeping me up and spinning me around while I laughed into his shoulder. When he set me down, we were both grinning.
“Vows,” he said. “Real ones this time.”
I nodded.
I went first because I was a researcher and I’d been collecting evidence for weeks and I was prepared.
“I vow to investigate you as thoroughly as I investigate everything else.” My voice came out steady. “To share what I find. To tell you when your plans have variable errors and when they’re sound. To be the other anchor when the structure requires more than one.”
I paused, a smile pulling at my mouth. “And to always add water to the flowers.”
His expression softened in a way that made my heart spasm.
“I vow to hunt beside you,” he said. “To carry you up stairs you’re perfectly capable of climbing yourself.
To learn what you like before you have to ask.
To be the male who runs to you when his wolf won’t settle.
To always pick the right bread and ensure your tea is at the right temperature.
And to choose you again every day regardless of what a ceremony says. ”
He paused, his mouth curving. “And to occasionally ride the mop without complaint.”
“Occasionally is acceptable.”
We spoke the binding words from the original ceremony together. This time, both of us knew what they meant. The bond flared between us again, recognizing truth the same way it had on our wedding day.
But this felt different. Chosen instead of arranged. Built through breakfast trays and arguments about research protocol.
He kissed me, and I forgot we were standing in an open meadow where anyone could see.
When he pulled back, I swayed. He steadied me with both hands on my waist, grinning in a way I’d never seen before. So beautiful and rare.
He swept me up and spun me around again. I laughed, the sound echoing in the small meadow.
He laid me down in the cool grass, with silver light filtering through the canopy. His expression held everything I’d been too careful to name until now.
I touched his jaw. He turned his face into my hand, his stubble rough against my palm.
“I love you,” I said.
“I love you,” he said. “I have for a while now.”
“I know. I’ve been collecting evidence.”
His laugh came soft. “Of course you have.”
He kissed me again, slower this time. His hands moved to the laces of my dress with the same careful attention he’d given them before, working each one loose while his mouth traced my collarbone.
The grass felt soft beneath my back and the night air cool on my skin as he eased my dress off my shoulders. I helped him with his tunic, my fingers finding scars I’d traced before and new ones I hadn’t noticed yet.
“Tell me about this one,” I said, stroking a mark on his ribs.
“Border dispute. Three years ago.” He kissed my throat. “I’ll tell you the whole story later.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
His hands moved lower, finding the hem of my undergarments. I lifted my hips so he could slide them off, the motion somehow more intimate than anything we’d done before.
He settled between my thighs, his weight familiar now. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him close.
“Still yes?” he asked against my mouth.
“Always yes.”
He entered me slowly, giving my body time to adjust. The stretch felt different here, in the open air with moonlight on our skin. More ours.
He moved faster, finding the rhythm we’d learned together.
I could feel him in ways that had nothing to do with physical sensation. His wolf’s satisfaction. His heart’s certainty.
Mine.
The orgasm built fast, pleasure coiling tight in my belly before releasing in waves that made me cry out. He followed after, his body shuddering as he came.
We lay tangled together in the grass with our breathing slowly returning to normal.
“We lost the race,” I said.
His laugh rumbled through his chest. “I think it was worth it.”
I couldn’t argue with that assessment.
Above us, stars appeared through gaps in the canopy. I started to catalog the constellations before stopping myself. Some moments didn’t need documentation.
“We should probably go back,” I said without moving.
“Probably.”
Neither of us made any effort to get up.
Acorn’s chittering reached us from somewhere in the woods.
We dressed and made our way back through the forest. Slower than the race, with Feral in human form and my hand in his.
The bonfire still flickered in the darkness when we emerged at the clearing’s edge.
The celebration had drifted into smaller groups, people talking and laughing while someone played a flute near the flames.
Bastian looked up when we approached. “The race finished an hour ago.”
“We got distracted,” Feral said.
“I’m sure you did.” Bastian gestured to the remaining food. “There’s still some left if you’re hungry.”
We settled at one of the tables, accepting plates from staff who grinned but didn’t comment. Acorn materialized from somewhere and claimed his position beside my plate.
Arana joined us after a few minutes, sliding onto the bench across from me. “I assume you found something more interesting than a race.”
“You could say that,” I said.
“Good. You both looked like you needed it.”
Bastian sat beside her, their shoulders touching. She didn’t move away.
I filed that observation alongside all the others I’d been collecting about them.
We ate and talked while the bonfire burned down to embers.
Plans for tomorrow’s ritual. Logistics of getting all the alphas to the primary seal site.
Technical details about duskburst placement that Arana had thoughts about.
Normal conversation between people who’d decided to work together instead of against each other.
Later, Bastian showed us to guest quarters in one of the smaller residence trees. The room was simple but comfortable, with a bed large enough for two and a window that looked out over the forest.
“We’ll leave after breakfast,” he said from the doorway. “The primary seal site is an hour’s walk.”
“We’ll be ready,” Feral said.
Bastian nodded and left, closing the door behind him.
I set my field kit on the small table beneath the window, already mentally organizing what I’d need.
Feral’s arms came around me from behind, pulling me back against his chest.
“Tomorrow,” he said against my hair. “Tonight you sleep.”
“I was just planning—”
“Tomorrow.”
I relaxed into him, letting my planning brain quiet. He was right. Tomorrow would come whether I organized for it now or not.
We climbed into bed together, his arm settling around my waist in the position we’d found without discussion. Acorn curled up in a basket someone had left near the hearth, already snoring softly.
“Sleep love,” Feral said into the dark. “I’ll keep you safe.”
I drifted off to the sound of his breathing and the knowledge that tomorrow we’d fix what had been broken for thirteen years.