Victoria leaned forward as we ran, her weight shifting enough that I knew she was looking at the territory around us.
Acorn chittered.
“He says your forest sings with old magic,” Victoria said, her voice carrying easily despite the wind. “Deep roots and deeper stories, where ancient things still sleep.”
Warmth spread through my chest.
We approached a sunlit glade, one of my favorite spots in the entire territory. My wolf slowed, wanting her to see the way the light hit the small pond in the center. How moss covered the boulders in thick, velvety layers.
I picked up speed, irritated at myself for the impulse.
Eventually, I reached the northern tributary and dropped to my belly again.
Victoria slid off, and Acorn leaped into the grass, scooting into the underbrush.
Her legs buckled, a natural response after riding a wolf for the better part of an hour. I shifted fast and caught her, wrapping my arm around the back of her waist.
She grabbed my shoulder to steady herself.
I was much too aware of her leaning into my side, and I tried not to notice the curve of her waist under my palm or the way she fit so well tucked against me. As if she belonged.
My hand wanted to stay.
I stepped back the moment she found her footing.
“This is the area,” I said, my voice coming out like I’d been chewing on gravel. “I don’t know what you expect to find.”
She didn’t answer, only pulled vials from her pockets. Her notebook floated up, the pen poised and ready.
I crossed my arms on my chest and pretended to survey the perimeter. Guard duty. That’s what this was. Protecting my mate—mywife—while she worked.
I was not watching the efficient way she moved. Not noticing the small spells she used to draw samples. Creek water rose into vials without her touching the surface. A soil core extracted itself cleanly from the ground at a gesture. Bark samples peeled away in neat strips from a nearby tree.
I found my wife utterly fascinating.
I’d realized that at the wedding, and I’d assumed the feeling would fade once the novelty wore off.
It hadn’t. If anything, it had gotten worse. I found myself thinking about what it would be like if she truly was my wife. Not in the strategic sense, but in the way my wolf understood it. Coming home to her, her laboratory, and her hair messy. Taking her to my bed for real. Her squirrel stealing my food and her calm, analytical observations about everything.
She already is,my wolf said.
I blinked and stood with that for a second.
My wolf was right. In every sense that mattered to pack law and to the bond humming in my chest, she was my wife. The ceremony was done. The binding complete. The mate bond had recognized the truth when we spoke our vows.
I uncrossed my arms and walked over to join her.
She was juggling three vials and trying to cap a fourth while her notebook hovered at an awkward angle.
I held out my hand.
She glanced at me before passing over the vials without comment, and went back to her research.
We worked together. She collected samples. I held things. Occasionally she’d dictate observations to her pen, her voice steady and confident.
Above us, Acorn swung through the canopy, providing running commentary in Victoria’s mind.
“He says the trees here grow differently,” she said at one point. “Twisted roots, like they’re reaching for something beneath the soil instead of water.”
