Page 34 of Alpha's Promise

They left Cimarron Mesa and drove back to Copper Canyon, stopping along the way to have dinner and sleep.

Dakota toyed with the edge of her napkin, her fingers tracing the folds absently as she glanced across the small, dimly lit restaurant. The flicker of candlelight cast a warm glow on Landon’s face, softening the sharp lines of his jaw and the guarded intensity in his eyes. It was quiet here, the kind of place where conversations could linger without interruption, but Dakota’s nerves hummed with everything left unsaid.

She cleared her throat, her voice low. “Landon, can I ask you something?”

His gaze lifted from the longneck bottle of beer in front of him, his brow arching slightly. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

She hesitated, glancing around at the near-empty room as though someone might overhear her. Finally, she forced the words out. “What’s the deal with fated mates? And… the claiming?”

Landon leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. He didn’t speak right away, which only made Dakota’s pulse quicken. Finally, he exhaled, his lips quirking in a faint smile. “You don’t go for small talk, do you?”

Her cheeks flushed, but she held his gaze. “Not tonight.”

He nodded, leaning forward, his arms resting on the edge of the table. “All right. Fated mates are… they’re kind of the foundation of who we are. Two people bound by something ancient, something that goes beyond logic. It’s like finding the other half of your soul, even if you didn’t know it was missing. Some shifters don’t wait for their fated mates, and I didn’t believe in them for a long time, but then Briar came along, and I saw how she and Colt just fit together.”

The explanation landed heavily, and Dakota fiddled with the silverware, her thoughts racing. “So, it’s not really a choice then?”

Landon shook his head, his expression serious. “Depends on who you ask. The bond is there whether either mate choosesto acknowledge it, and more than one female has been claimed without her consent. Male shifters are notoriously dominant, but more and more female shifters are refusing to be chattel. The bond may connect two individuals, but it’s the claiming that seals it, makes it real. And once a female bears a claiming bite, most male shifters are reluctant to try to claim her, although it isn’t unheard of, especially if the original claim was not from a fated mate or the female was forced.”

Dakota’s chest tightened, her voice barely above a whisper. “And what happens if the female refuses or avoids being claimed?”

He hesitated, his gaze searching hers, as though deciding how much truth she could handle. “If she isn’t claimed, the bond will remain dormant. But you’ll always feel it, like a shadow. A reminder of what could’ve been.”

Her breath caught at the quiet weight of his words. “And if she’s claimed?”

He leaned closer, his voice low and steady. “It’s everything. The connection, the trust, the instincts—all of it. You become part of each other in a way that’s… permanent, fated.”

Dakota looked down at her untouched plate, her fingers tightening around the edge of the napkin. “And what if she’s not ready for something permanent?”

Landon’s voice softened, the sincerity in his tone catching her off guard. “Depends on the dominant part of the pair. Hopefully he’d be willing to wait, but I won’t tell you that is always what happens. I won’t lie to you. Sometimes primitive instinct takes over, and the bond is forced. But I can tell you that I would not be inclined to force it.”

“Because you’re all noble?” she teased.

“No, because I don’t want to be banished, and I don’t want every she-wolf in our pack coming after me. She-wolves are not, as a group, someone you want to mess with,” he chuckled.

She nodded slowly, her thoughts swirling. The quiet hum of the restaurant faded into the background as she tried to absorb everything he’d said. When she finally looked up, Landon was watching her, his expression calm but open, as though he understood the storm in her head better than she did.

“Thanks for explaining,” she said, her voice barely audible.

“Anytime,” he replied, leaning back again.

As the last light of day surrendered to the night, Dakota embraced her fate, ready to claim her place among the legends.

The following morning, they stepped out into the crisp morning air, and Landon's truck rumbled to life beside her, his presence a reassuring constant in the chaos of her newfound reality. He helped her into the truck, and they began the trip back to the ranch.

The drive back to the ranch was filled with silence that hummed with anticipation. The vast expanse of the open land stretched before them, shrouded in the early morning light. As they pulled up to the homestead, the silhouette of the ranch house loomed large against the darkening sky. It looked different now, not just a structure of wood and stone, but a symbol of her new life, intertwined with Landon and the pack.

Once they’d arrived, Landon said, "Let's get you settled in," the timbre of his voice wrapping around her like a warm blanket. "I think it’s about time your things found a new home...”

“You want me to move into the women’s dormitory?”

“Hardly. Your things belong in my room, our room."

The suggestion, delivered with casual confidence, sent a rush of heat to Dakota's cheeks. She knew what this meant—more than just boxes and suitcases, it was acceptance, belonging, a kind of claim that resonated in the depths of her soul.

"Are you sure?" she asked, uncertainty threading through her words. His gaze met hers, steady and unwavering.

"Sweetheart, I've never been more sure about anything."

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