His voice dropped, heavy with old regret. “I slept with another woman, and as soon as the sun rose, I knew I’d done the wrong thing. It didn’t matter how I’d been brought into the maul, I couldn’t abandon my family. I belonged with them.”
My chest squeezed at his confession. He was obviously carrying so much guilt and shame—the weight of a betrayal that still mattered to him decades later. But I didn’t know what to make of it. Even though he’d been one of three husbands, he felt like he’d cheated on his wife.
Mauls weren’t just a trendy version of polycules, I realized then. They were something deeper. More binding… Sacred.
I couldn’t even imagine being a part of something so intimate and close—or why they would want me, of all people, to be.
“I came home,” Zion continued, drawing my attention back to him. “Ravik and I had a heart-to-heart—just the two of us. Then he went to Niska and declared, as her first maul, that she’d have to divorce Erik to restore peace to our family.”
“So, he’s pulled this first maul card before,” I said quietly, more to myself than to Zion.
“He didn’t pull a card, Bell. He forced her to choose between Erik and the two of us,” Zion corrected. “Between saving one person who did not wish to change his behavior or saving our family.”
Zion turned to fully face me, spreading his arm across the couch’s back. It was so long, it nearly reached me.
“She chose us. Exiled Erik. But it took her years to forgive Ravik for forcing her hand. Two years of complete silent treatment. She kept their bond on mute and wouldn’t let her first maul back into her head or her bed.”
On the mute screen, theBritain’s Got Bakerscontestant who was being sent home wiped his eyes as he gave his tearful final interview.
“Peace was restored for the rest of the maul with Erik gone,” Zion said quietly. “But Ravik paid the greatest price.”
Again, I wasn’t sure how to respond.
I didn’t want to feel sympathy for Ravik. Didn’t want my anger to soften. But I couldn’t help but compare him to Dennis, who wouldn’t have gone to bat for anyone but himself. He never would have let me get away with giving him the silent treatment for two hours, much less two years.
“And you’re just... okay with being in each other’s heads all the time?” I asked, needing to shift the conversation.
Zion considered my question, his head tilting in that professorial way. “It’s odd at first. Rather like having a radio playing in the background that you can’t quite turn off. But then you adjust to the frequency. Get used to it. Boone is…”
He winced. “A bit loud, I’ll confess. But Ravik is the best first maul anyone on Bear Mountain could ask for.”
His expression warmed. “Always willing to be of aid and assistance. Capable at everything. He truly cares, and he never mutes his side of the bond.”
“Never?”
“Never,” Zion confirmed. “So I’ve never had to suffer being unable to tell how he really felt underneath that stern exterior. There’s never any misunderstanding between us.”
Zion paused, as if considering another aspect of his first maul. “But I imagine it must have been hard for you during that row today. Not being inside his head.”
My throat felt tight. “I just don’t understand why he thinks it’s his job to protect me—or why he would even want me to be his mate.”
I shook my head. “The smell thing isn’t a good enough reason.”
“I had similar thoughts at the start of my first maulship.” An empathetic smile rose on Zion’s lips. “Niska was incredibly enamored with me from the beginning—wouldn’t leave me alone, kept finding excuses to touch me or talk to me. Once I bit her back, I understood why. The bond... it clarifies things.”
“So you loved her?”
“I did. Eventually.” His smile became soft with memory. “Though we weren’t an expressive maul. We never said those words to each other. But Niska challenged me, redirected me from a path of becoming a doctor—a job I would have disliked much more than teaching my ungrateful horde. She appreciated me for all the reasons my father did not. She liked the way I talked. Said I’d introduce necessary drama into what had been, until then, a mostly boring life.”
“So, she was bored with Ravik before she bit you?” I asked. “If that was the case, why did she agree to mate him in the first place?”
“For the same reason he agreed to marry her. The Ayaska’s concept of love isn’t quite as heart-based as ours. It’s practical, nearly to a fault.” Zion gestured like he was teaching a class. “If two people smell good together and aren’t too closely related, there’s no reason they shouldn’t be together. In the Ayaska definition of romance, Niska and Ravik were the most practical match—similar scents, no shared relatives. But Niska found that kind of compatibility boring. She couldn’t see the romance in marrying someone she’d known her whole life. However, their marriage was arranged from her birth.”
“And Ravik?” I found myself asking. “How did he feel about their arranged marriage?”
“I’m not certain Ravik ever assayed his feelings around what he considered his duty.” Zion tilted his head in that professorial way again. “If Ravik had been allowed to pick their maul, he would have chosen two other Ayaska who smelled and acted exactly like him. Practical, quiet, efficient.”
Zion’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “Niska used to joke that he was so dangerously close to basically duplicating himself and calling it a maul that she’d been forced to stall until she bit me.”
