Page 137 of Alpha's Rejected Warrior
Thea told me that the mark is permanent. Irreversible. A bond sealed in flesh that brands you as belonging to another for the rest of your existence. Rhiannon’s teeth press against me on the exact threshold between primal urge and contemplative restraint, and she holds herself there, trembling. Her whole body shakes with the effort of not biting down.
“Claim me.”
She goes rigid under me.
“What?”
“Thea told me about marking.” I pull back just enough to look at her. “You want to claim me, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“Mark me. I’m yours. Do it.” I mean every syllable with the full weight of everything I’ve become in this place. Every scar earned in training. Every night spent learning the shape of her silence. Every moment I chose to stay when leaving would have been easier.
The boy from Creek Falls who never believed he was enough? He’s gone. My doubt has been burned away in a temple in the mountains, my fears smashed in a dungeon with a monster who turned out to be just as scared as I was. My insecurities were vaporized in that forest by a moonlit pond.
What’s left is the man who belongs here. Who belongs toher.
I’m yours. Forever.
Are you sure?
Yes.
She makes an inhuman sound. It’s not a growl and it’s not a cry, but it emerges from a place language hasn’t captured yet. Her wolf breaks through completely, and then her teeth break through my skin.
The pain is real: sharp and immediate, a bright searing point on my neck that I can feel all the way into my jaw.
Then, the pain is gone, and our bond implodes and expands like the creation of the universe.
Rhiannon floods in anew, filling every space I didn’t know was hollow. Her love, her fear, her relief, the burden on her of carrying a secret alone for weeks. Years of armor are stripped in a single breath, and underneath it all is this vast, aching gentleness she has never let anyone witness.
We shatter together.
I hold her through every wave with everything I have.
I’m crying. I don’t care. Through the bond, I can feel that she is too.
I love you, Ethan.
I know.
Chapter 48 — Ethan
The Great Hall blazes with torchlight, flames leaping in iron sconces along stone walls draped with ceremonial banners. Crescent Pack sigils alternate with Shaman symbols: moon phases intertwined with spiraling runes and stars that shimmer when the firelight catches them.
I’ve seen some impressive rooms in my life — granted, mostly in movies — but this place hits different when you’re actually sitting here. It’s the kind of room designed to remind the guests of honor that they’re important, and doing a hell of a job of it.
From my seat in the front row, wedged between Thea and Lady Gemma, I have a clear sightline to the raised platform at the far end. Rhiannon stands at attention at its base, flanked by Conan on her right and Jayme on her left. Akila and Branson hold the opposite end of the dais.
All five of them are in polished formal armor, looking like they could walk straight onto the set of some epic medieval war film. Except they’re real, and every single one of them could snapme in half without breaking a sweat. Fun thought. Glad I’m on their side.
The hall is packed. Every Crescent Pack member who could attend has crammed themselves onto the rows of wooden benches stretching toward the back. Twenty-five Shaman from Stasio’s clan sit clustered near the front, their pale robes in stark contrast against the darker furs and leathers surrounding them.
My eyes drift back to Rhiannon, because of course they do. Her armor catches the torchlight, polished to a mirror shine, and the formal cut of it traces every line of her with military precision. The firelight plays across her dark hair, her posture carved from stone and radiating authority.
You look beautiful.I slip the words into her mind.
Her shoulders pull tight for half a heartbeat before loosening again. Her head angles in my direction. Color rises along her throat, catching the firelight despite the distance.
