He looked powerful. Grounded. He looked like home, and he was staring at me like I'd stolen the breath from his lungs, like he couldn't believe I was real. I saw him blink rapidly, his eyes shining.
He's holding back tears.
The realization hit me like a physical blow.
This wasn't duty. This wasn't protection.
Hewantedthis. Wantedme.
Kessa's hand pressed gently against my back, urging me forward, and my legs remembered how to move. I walked slowly around the fire, each step feeling monumental, the pack silent now except for the drums and the crackle of flames.
When I reached him, Daska's reached up and his fingers brushed the side of my face. His touch was feather-light, reverent, and he leaned in close enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath against my temple.
"You honour me," he whispered, his voice rough and low. "More than I... more than I have words for."
My throat closed. I couldn't speak, couldn't do anything but nod, and Daska's hand slid down to close gently around mine.
Rivik stepped forward. Hi face was impassive, like it was carved from stone, and he barely looked at me. I have to admit, it hurt a little, after the way he’d kissed me last night. The way he’d… I pushed the thought a way. I was mating Daska, I needed to focus on that, and if Rivik didn’t give a shit, that was his business.
His voice was low and resonant as he began to speak, carrying across the space with the weight of ritual. I understood most of it; the invocations to the spirits of earth and sky, to the ancestors who watched over the pack, to the bonds that held them together against the long dark of winter. Lastly, and with honour and reverence, he called on the Great Mother and her Lover, to witness our mating.
He gestured to the sky, to the earth, to the fire, the river far below in the valley. He spoke Daska's name, then mine, and the way he said them, linked together, made my chest tighten.
"Daska, hearth son of Rokan and Jalar, healer of the Hanging Rock, who spirit is shared by the Cave Bear," Rivik intoned. "Ellie, woman of the—" He used a phrase I didn't quite catch, something that meantfar placeorbeyond the edge. "You come together before the pack. Before the spirits. Before the Great Mother and her own Lover."
I swallowed hard. Daska's fingers tightened around mine.
Rivik lifted our joined hands high so the pack could see. "The bond pulls them. The spirits have chosen. Do any speak against this joining?"
Silence. I held my breath, half-expecting someone to object, to call out that I didn't belong, that this was wrong—
But no one spoke.
Rivik lowered our hands and fixed his gaze on Daska. "You take this woman as mate? You swear to protect her, provide for her, honour her as equal?"
"I swear," Daska said, his voice strong and clear.
Rivik turned to me. "You take this man as mate? You swear to stand with him, walk beside him, build hearth and home together?"
My heart hammered. My mouth was dry.
This is it. This is the moment. Say yes or walk away.
"I swear," I whispered.
The words felt enormous. Final.
Rivik nodded gravely, then gestured to a young woman standing nearby. She came forward carrying a small leather pouch and a piece of flint, her movements careful and deliberate.
The drums intensified.
Daska turned to face me fully, his expression solemn, and held out his hand palm-up. The young woman placed the flint in his fingers, then stepped back.
He looked at me, his gaze steady and questioning, and I understood.
Blood.
I nodded, my throat dry, and offered my hand.
