Page 163 of Claimed

Rowan ignores everyone with professional grace. ‘Your mark changed. The countdown as it existed has stopped.’

The words enter the Vault and rearrange the air.

The countdown has stopped.

For a heartbeat, I can’t breathe again, but this time it has nothing to do with dying.

Valentin’s hand tightens at my waist.

I feel his reaction through the bond. A flash of disbelief so deep it nearly hurts. Hope he doesn’t trust yet. Victory he’s already suspicious of because old monsters know better than to accept gifts without inspecting the blade hidden inside.

‘Morrighan’s access?’ Rowan asks him.

Valentin’s expression hardens. ‘Sealed for now,’ he says. ‘Our blood altered the path. Morrighan cannot reach me through sleep as she did before.’

‘For now,’ Rowan repeats.

‘For now,’ he agrees.

My fingers curl against his chest.

Selphine and Morrighan are not done with us yet. Everyone in this room knows it.

Still.

Marek is dead. The fated mate bond is complete. Valentin is alive. And so am I.

That feels like enough to make the universe pause and let us have ten fucking minutes.

Rowan presses cool fingers to my wrist. ‘Your unconsciousness was the mortal body adapting to the completed bond, yes?’

Valentin answers before she finishes checking my pulse. ‘Yes. The first surge overwhelmed her heart and lungs. The bond pulled her soul-self into Netheris. Her body remained tethered because the vows were completed before collapse.’

Rowan glances up. ‘You’ve studied the mating rites extensively.’

‘I did not intend to die ignorant.’

‘Shocking. A man preparing for the woman he had not found.’

His gaze drops to me and the bond warms. ‘The woman my heart found twice,’ he says.

My chest does something inconvenient. ‘Careful,’ I whisper. ‘You’re becoming romantic in front of witnesses.’

‘I am mated now. They will endure it.’

Luca mutters, ‘We will require time to adjust.’

Gideon says, very softly, ‘Gladly.’

The room stills around that.

Gideon, Aaron and Iskander bow their heads, the motion solemn. And one by one, the Ten incline themselves, not with the wary respect, suspicion or strategy they’ve shown me before, but with recognition.

I am their sire’s mate. And something else, maybe. The woman who helped bring him back?

My throat tightens. ‘Don’t be weird,’ I say.

Luca’s grin flashes, ragged with relief. ‘Too late, little queen.’