Page 73 of When Two Worlds Collide

The new moon rises invisible above us, darkness absolute except for the ring of torches surrounding the ceremonial ground. Representatives from three worlds stand witness: my diminished pack, a delegation from Haven’s Heart, and most surprisingly, emissaries from two other wild clans drawn by rumors of an impossible alliance.

Ember stands across from me in the circle’s heart, wearing white leather that makes her skin glow bronze in the firelight. Neither traditional Shadow Wolf attire nor Haven’s Heart formal robes—something entirely new. Her hair falls loose around her shoulders, and the incomplete bond between us pulses with anticipation.

“We gather beneath the dark moon,” Elder Riva intones, “to witness something without precedent. A joining that bridges worlds. A claiming that honors both tradition and evolution.”

I feel the weight of every gaze—my pack wondering if I’ve lost my way, the Haven’s Heart delegation questioning Ember’s sanity, the wild clan emissaries searching forweakness to exploit. But mostly I feel her, the hollow ache of our interrupted bond demanding completion.

Kade steps forward from the Haven’s Heart group, his formal uniform incongruous among the torchlight and ancient stones. But his expression holds only warm solemnity as he approaches his sister.

“The Steelclaw line has served Haven’s Heart for five generations,” he says, voice carrying across the clearing. “Today, that service takes a new form.” He takes Ember’s hand, placing it in mine. “I give my sister not to the Shadow Wolf clan alone, but to the future she and her mate will build between all our peoples.”

His acceptance means more than any political alliance. Through our bond, I feel Ember’s throat tighten with emotion.

“The words,” Elder Riva prompts gently.

I’ve memorized traditional claiming vows, but looking at Ember—fierce and vulnerable, wild and wise—ancient words feel insufficient.

“You are not what I expected,” I begin, departing from the script. “I thought civilized shifters were weak, domesticated, lost. You proved me wrong with every breath. You fought for cubs not your own. Bled for my pack before they accepted you. Showed me strength exists in forms I never imagined.”

Her eyes shine in the torchlight, and I feel her emotions through our damaged bond—love, fear, and determination mixed.

“I claim you not to tame you but to run beside you. Not to own you but to share the hunt. You are my mate, my match, my mirror showing me what I was too proud to see alone.”

“Zane,” she breathes, and her voice cracks slightly. “Youdemanded I see truth beneath comfortable lies. Made me confront the wildness I’d buried under diplomatic words. You saw the fire in me when I’d nearly forgotten it existed.”

She steps closer, our joined hands the only point of contact as the ceremony demands.

“I choose you not despite our differences but because of them. I am your mate, your challenge, your bridge to possibilities neither of us imagined alone. I claim you as my wolf, my anchor, my proof that strength and wisdom can share the same heart.”

“The blood seal,” Elder Riva says.

Marcus should perform this duty—it’s the beta’s role to bind his alpha’s claiming. Instead, Kade steps forward with a ceremonial blade, Haven’s Heart steel rather than Shadow Wolf bronze. Another break with tradition that speaks louder than words.

He cuts shallow across our joined palms, letting blood mingle as it did during our first oath. But this time, the watching crowd gasps as power visibly ripples where our blood meets—the incomplete bond recognizing its moment.

“By blood and choice,” we say together. “By moon and flame. By hunt and hearth. We are one.”

The formal ceremony ends, but the true claiming has barely begun.

“The alpha and his mate retire to complete their bond,” Elder Riva announces. “May the moon bless their joining.”

We leave the circle hand in hand, but I feel the weight of unspoken questions. Everyone knows what completion requires—the final physical claiming that will either stabilize our connection or shatter us both.

The ceremonial den waits a mile from camp—far enough for privacy, close enough for protection. Someonehas prepared it with care: fresh furs, spring water, enough food for three days, though we only have until dawn.

The moment we’re alone, the pretense of control evaporates.

“Finally,” Ember breathes, already pulling at her ceremonial leathers. “I can’t—the bond—it hurts, Zane.”

“I know.” I help her with the laces, hands shaking with need. “We’ll fix it. Tonight we fix everything.”

When her clothes fall away, revealing skin marked by battles fought for my pack, something primal rises in me. Mine. Truly mine.

But she’s already shifting, her panther emerging in a blaze of golden fur and barely contained fire. The challenge in her eyes is unmistakable—catch me if you can.

I shift and pursue.

This hunt differs from our ritual’s first nights. We know each other’s patterns now, and predict each other’s moves. When she darts left, I’m already there. When I leap for her, she’s rolling beneath me, claws raking playfully across my flank.

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