"You don't know that."
"I know you." He reached for my hand again, and I let him take it. "I've known you for weeks, and I've never met anyone less broken. Guarded, sure. Scared to let people in, definitely. But broken?" He shook his head. "No. Whatever this is, whatever's happening—it's not because there's something wrong with you."
I didn't have words. The kindness of him, the acceptance—it was too much, too fast. I'd braced for rejection, for complications, for having to justify something I couldn't explain.
Instead, he was holding my hand and looking at me like I'd given him a gift instead of a burden.
"So there's another mate," he said. "On this mountain. Lost and feral and dying."
"Yes."
"And you're going to save him."
"I'm going to try."
"Then we're going to save him." He squeezed my hand. "Together."
"James—"
"I told you before. I'm not leaving this mountain without you." His jaw set in that stubborn way I'd come to recognize. "If he's your mate, then he matters to you. And anything that matters to you matters to me. That's how this works, right? The bond?"
"It's not that simple."
"Why not?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"Because he might not come back. Because even if I reach him, even if I do everything right, he might be too far gone. And if that happens—"
"Then we'll deal with it. Together." His voice was gentle but firm. "I'm not going anywhere, Lumi. I didn't follow you into the wilderness and turn into a wolf and almost die just to bail when things get complicated."
A laugh escaped me—half sob, half genuine amusement. "You're insane."
"Probably. But I'm also right." He shifted closer, and the bond sang at the proximity. "Whatever's up there, whatever we find—we face it together. That's the deal. Take it or leave it."
I looked at him. This impossible man who'd stumbled into my life and refused to leave, who'd accepted werewolves and mate bonds and multiple mates with the same stubborn calm he applied to everything.
"You really mean that."
"Every word."
"Even knowing he might be—that I might—"
"Even knowing." He cupped my face with his free hand, thumb brushing my cheekbone. "I don't understand all of this yet. The shifting, the bonds, the supernatural world—it's going to take time to process. But the one thing I'm sure of? You. Whatever else is true, whatever complications come up, I want to be with you. The rest we figure out as we go."
The bond flared between us—warm and bright and certain. I felt tears prick my eyes and blinked them back fiercely.
"I don't deserve you," I whispered.
"Maybe not." He smiled, soft and teasing. "But you're stuck with me anyway."
I kissed him.
It wasn't planned. I just leaned forward and pressed my lips to his, and he met me halfway like he'd been waiting. The kiss was gentle at first—tentative, questioning—and then deeper as the bond roared to life between us.
His hands slid into my hair. My fingers curled into his shirt. We pressed together in the narrow space of the sleeping bag, and everything else fell away—the mountain, the storm, the feral waiting somewhere in the white. There was only this. Only him. Only the warmth of his body and the certainty of the bond and the knowledge that I wasn't alone anymore.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.
