Page 63 of Wolf's Reckoning
The druid stepped between us, face carved from ancient stone, voice calm as a winter storm. “This is not a wedding.”
No shit.
“This is a pact. A bond not forged in love, but in necessity. In duty. In power.”
The gathered shifters were silent. Watching. Judging. Always fucking judging. Rowen stood to my left, still as a statue, jaw clenched so tight I could practically hear her teeth grinding.
“This is how peace is kept,” the druid continued. “Two leaders. One vow.”
I didn’t look at her. Her presence was a second skin—abrasive, electric, unavoidable.
The druid turned to me. “Wolfe, do you accept the bond offered, not in heart, but in loyalty? Will you protect this pack as your own, as a natural bornleader?” I saw the glint in their eye as they avoided sayingalpha.“Will youaccept its daughter as she stands beside you as your equal?”
I spoke without hesitation. “Sure.”
The druid glared a borehole in my head, no doubt displeased with the casualness of my answer, but what were they going to do? Ask me to leave? With a dissatisfied sniff, they turned to her.
“Rowen, daughter of the Hollow. Do you accept the bond offered, not in surrender, but in unity? Will you stand beside this leader and have this bond blessed by Luna?”
Her chin lifted. “I will stand beside him,” she said. “I willnotfollow behind him.”
I didn’t hide my smirk. Not a yes. Not a no.
The druid hesitated, frustration at our disobedience riding their scent, but they nodded once. “Accepted.”
I almost laughed. Of course it was.
We stepped forward—one pace, side by side. The druid raised a blade, ceremonial, curved like a fang. They sliced across both our palms, swift and shallow, and held them out.
Rowen didn’t hesitate. Neither did I. Our blood met in the bowl. Smoke curled from the surface like it recognized the storm brewing between us. The wind picked up and swept through the trees. A chorus of murmurs rose behind us—some in celebration, some in warning.
She still didn’t look at me.
I didn’t look away. “You can drop the scowl,” I muttered under the howl of the wind. “You survived it.”
“For now,” she replied, voice flat.
The druid lifted the bowl high. “It is done. Let Blueridge Hollow endure.”
I turned to face the crowd. My pack. My challenge. But my thoughts were already ahead—on the aftermath, the fallout, the fury still brewing in the woman beside me.
Because this Binding wasn’t over; it had only just begun.
Chapter 16
Rowen
I would’ve rather been bleedingin the woods than sitting here with a silver plate in front of me, flanked by shifters who now thought I belonged to him.
The feast wasn’t about food. It was about power plays. It was about who sat where, who chewed first, who lifted their cup, and who didn’t. Everything had meaning. Everything was performance.
And right now, I was the star of the show.
The roasted meat came from a kill made by Wolfe—out of respect, supposedly, for the “new bond.” But I knew better. It was a test. Another tradition the elders insisted on keeping.
The newly bonded pair eats first. Same plate. Same bite. To show the pack that trust existed. That unity was more than words.
I picked up the carved iron fork and felt Wolfe’s eyes on me. The silence was suffocating. It stretched too long, as if the entire hall was waiting for one of us to flinch.
