Because my mate is waiting for me.
Emma is barefoot in the grass, wearing a white sundress that Natalie produced from somewhere, her honey-blonde hair loose around her shoulders. She's smiling, and I can feel her joy through the bond, bright and fierce and directed entirely at me.
Mine. My mate. My wife.
My normally grumpy grizzly bear rumbles with satisfaction.
Mitch keeps the ceremony short, which I appreciate. A few words about bonds and commitment, a few promises I mean with every fiber of my being, and then a gold band slides onto her finger and she's looking up at me with wet eyes.
"You may kiss your bride," Mitch says, and I'm already moving.
I cup her face in my hands and kiss her like we're not surrounded by the entire clan. She tastes like happiness, like home, and when Mason wolf-whistles, I punch the air, triumphant, without breaking the kiss.
“You’re all mine, Emma Lennox. Officially.”
Emma laughs against my mouth, and the sound settles something in my chest that I didn't know was still restless. Initially, I was doing this for her, but having her choose to take my name has been more pleasing than I anticipated.
Then we're swarmed.
Natalie hugs Emma so tight I have to resist the urge to pry her off. Nobody knows she’s pregnant yet, and they’re all being too rough. But when my bear gives a little growl of displeasure, Emma’s warning look is enough to make me shove my hands into my pockets and let my sister continue to wrestle with my delicate mate.
I endure it because Emma is glowing, soaking up the attention and affection like she's never experienced anything like it. She probably hasn't. From what little she's told me about her childhood, family gatherings weren't exactly warm.
This is her family now. They'll treat her right or answer to me.
Ben and Zara arrived just in time for the service, which surprised me. My oldest brother doesn't leave his mountain for anything short of an emergency, but here he is, standing at the edge of the celebration with his mate tucked against his side.
He gives me a knowing smile, understanding just what it is to find the other half of your heart.
I'm refilling my drink at the bar when Zara appears beside me. Guilt sits heavy in my gut every time I think about how close I was to her sister, and how I messed up our chance to get information on her whereabouts.
"Congratulations," she says quietly. "Emma seems wonderful."
"She is."
Zara nods, watching Emma laugh at something Natalie said. Then her gaze shifts to me, more direct than I expected.
"I wanted to talk to you. About Amber."
My hand tightens on the glass. "Zara, I’m sorry."
"No, let me say this." She takes a breath. "Ben told me you've been tearing yourself up about it, thinking if you'd done some things differently, maybe you could have found her too."
I don't deny it. Can't. It’s the one thing that keeps me up at night.
"You didn't know." Her voice is steady despite the pain underneath. "And when you went after Emma, you had no way to know she had been moved too. You were trying to save your mate. That's not something to feel guilty about."
Sucking in a deep breath, I shake my head, not ready to accept her easy forgiveness.
"If I'd asked more questions, left Kozlov alive, maybe we’d know more."
"Maybe. Maybe not." Zara cuts me off, gentle but firm. "But the men who took Amber are responsible for what happened to her. Not you."
The words land somewhere deep, loosening a knot I didn't realize I'd been carrying.
"We're going to find her," I tell her.
“I know.”
