Page 55 of When Two Worlds Collide

“Show me the treaty.”

We spread the parchment on the stone between us. Zane reads every line, asks pointed questions about enforcement, about protections for his pack. An hour passes before he nods.

“I’ll sign. But the ritual begins immediately after.”

“Now?”

“The blood oath must be sworn under the moon.” He glances at the lightening sky. “Dawn approaches.”

My heart pounds as he pulls out his ceremonial blade. This is happening. I’m really doing this.

“Your hand,” he says.

I extend my left palm. He makes a swift and shallow cut across the lifeline. Does the same to his own. Our blood mingles as we clasp hands.

“Beneath the Moon Goddess’s fading light,” he begins, voice formal, “I swear to honor this treaty between our peoples. To defend the peace it creates. To accept Ember Steelclaw as my mate, with all the bonds that claiming brings.”

My turn. “Beneath the Moon Goddess’s fading light, I swear to bridge two worlds through this union. To honor pack law while maintaining my oaths to protect all shifters. To accept Zane Blackthorn as my mate, surrendering to the wild claiming.”

Power shivers through our joined hands—the moon’s blessing on our oath. The mate bond pulses stronger, recognizing what we’ve promised.

“It’s done,” Zane says. “Sign the treaty.”

We use quills he brought, signing our names in still-wet blood. The symbolism isn’t lost on either of us.

“I need to file this with the council,” I say. “They meet in three hours.”

“You have one hour. Then we leave for sacred territory.”

“My brother?—”

“One hour, Ember. The ritual must begin before the moon fully sets.”

I run. Through the forest, into Haven’s Heart, up to the council chambers. I file the treaty with the night clerk, and send a rushed message to Kade explaining what I’ve done. He’ll be furious. They all will.

But the treaty is legal. Binding. And in forty minutes, I’ll be beyond their reach.

I return to find Zane waiting with two horses. “We’ll ride to the border of sacred territory. From there, we go on foot.”

“In what form?”

“As our true forms. The ritual demands it.”

We ride in silence, the mate bond humming between us. My panther paces restlessly, knowing what comes. When we reach a grove of ancient pines, Zane dismounts.

“From here, no human words. No human thoughts. For three days, we exist as predator and prey, hunter and mate.”

“I understand.”

He strips without ceremony, folding his clothes into saddlebags. I do the same, trying not to think about how vulnerable this makes me. Not just physically—I’m about to spend three days in a form I usually hold for hours at most.

“Ready?” he asks.

I nod.

He shifts first—that fluid transformation into a massive black wolf. Then it’s my turn. The change comes easier than usual, my panther eager to be free. When I open my eyes, the world is sharper, clearer, reduced to essential elements.

Scent hits me first. Pine and earth and wolf—but underneath, the intoxicating pull of mate. My mate. The recognition is absolute in this form, no human rationalization to complicate it.

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