We stayed like that. Breathing hard, his fingers still inside me, my legs still wrapped around his waist. He was shaking.
"Rivik," I said. My voice came out wrecked.
He pulled back, lowering me to the ground and stepping back, refusing to meet my eyes, his expression shuttering so quickly it made my chest ache. The loss of contact was immediate and brutal. I stumbled slightly, my breath coming in short, uneven gasps.
"I apologize," he said quietly. "That was wrong of me."
I stared at him, stunned, my lips still tingling, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might break through my ribs.
"Rivik—"
"Prepare yourself," he said, cutting me off. "The ceremony will be at midday tomorrow. You will mate my brother."
And then he turned and walked away, leaving me standing alone in the firelight, shaking and breathless and utterly wrecked.
CHAPTER 22
ELLIE
Iwoke to the sound of women's voices, low and rhythmic, and for one disorienting heartbeat I thought I was back in the tent with Megan, that the last few weeks had been nothing but a strange delusion brought on by the act of time travel. I opened my eyes to Kessa's hearth, to the scent of woodsmoke and sweet fragrant herbs that I couldn't name, and reality settled over me like a stone.
Today was the day.
My stomach twisted. I gripped the thick fur beneath me, grounding myself in the texture, the warmth still clinging to the pelt from my body heat. The fire had burned low overnight. Dawn light filtered through the entrance, pale and cold, and I could see my breath misting in the air.
Today I bind myself to Daska. Today I become someone’s mate. Today everything changes.
I sat up slowly, my muscles protesting. I hadn't slept well, probably not more than a handful of hours strung together, mymind circling the same fears over and over. Had Nathan been right and this was only for protection of the pack? What if Daska didn't really want me? What if in a week’s time he realized he'd made a terrible mistake?
I shoved the thought down hard. Nathan didn't get to live in my head anymore. Not today.
Kessa appeared in the entrance, her broad face creased with warmth and something that looked almost like excitement. She carried a bundle wrapped in soft leather, and behind her came Sira and two other women I recognized from the communal meals.
"You’re awake," Kessa said, her voice warm. "Good. We have much to do, and the sun moves fast."
“We do? What do I need to do?”
“First you eat,” Sira said. She set down a wooden platter on the furs next to me and my mouth watered at the sight of the honey and berry cakes Sira was known for. Daunted as I was by the fierce old lady, my love for her cakes had emboldened me and several days ago I had begged Sira to teach me how to make them. They would be rare, grain was not grown and harvested yet, it had to be gathered from wild growing grasses. Agriculture wouldn’t be a thing for another twelve thousand years. Still, I had watched Sira carefully, and when she gave me the chance to recreate her recipe, I had taken the utmost care, and had even got a nod and a brief smile from the old wolf. Now, I looked up at her with a genuine smile.
“Thank you, Sira.”
As I nibbled on a cake and sipped at a cup of hot peppermint tea that Cera handed me, Kessa set the bundle down beside me with care. I watched as she unwrapped the leather with hands that were steady and sure and then my mouth fell open. Inside was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.
Pale cream leather, butter-soft and finely stitched with sinew, the seams so neat they looked almost invisible in the firelight. The tunic was sleeveless, cut to fit close at the shoulders and fall loose to mid-thigh, the hem decorated with tiny bone beads and coloured stones—turquoise, ochre, obsidian—that caught the light and shimmered. The leggings matched, fitted but flexible, with more beads trailing down the outer seams. There were soft fur-lined boots, a cloak lined with thick winter pelts, and a belt worked with intricate knotwork that must have taken hours to complete.
I stared. My throat closed up.
"Kessa," I managed. "This is... very beautiful. Too much."
"Not too much." Kessa's tone was firm. She touched the beads gently, then looked at me with something fierce in her eyes. "Daska gives his best blade. Three snow leopard furs. The white stones from—" She used a word I didn't know, something that sounded like a place name. "He trades all. He wants you to feel... as he sees you."
Sira stepped forward, her lined face solemn. "He wants pack to see. You are honoured. Not... not taken like—" She made a dismissive gesture that clearly meant something shameful.
"He traded so much for this?" I whispered, the words coming out rough.
Kessa nodded firmly. "His knife. The one from Rivik’s father." She pressed a hand to her heart. "From here."
He'd given up his best possessions. His adoptive father's hunting knife. Furs he'd been saving for winter. Things thatmattered.
