Page 71 of Collar Me Crazy
Tears slipped down her cheeks as she held him close. “Forever,” she echoed, her body still trembling with aftershocks.
Outside, the music played on, but inside their world had narrowed to this bed, this love, this moment. And Sonya knew, with absolute certainty, that nothing—not fate, not fear, not darkness—could ever take this from them.
42
SONYA
Three days after the wedding, Sonya stood on the sanctuary's front porch with a steaming mug of coffee, watching her husband tend to the animals that had become their extended family. The morning sun caught the auburn highlights in his hair, and every so often he'd look up and smile at her with an expression of contentment that made her heart skip.
"Hard to believe it's really over," she said as he approached, noting how Maple the dryad's grove practically glowed with health in the background.
"The crisis, maybe. But everything else is just beginning." Ryker settled beside her on the porch swing, his arm coming around her shoulders with natural ease. "Have I mentioned lately that I love waking up next to you?"
"Only about a dozen times since yesterday." She leaned into his warmth, marveling at how right this felt. A month ago, she'd been a lonely seer in Asheville, following cryptic visions across state lines. Now she was a wife, a community member, and apparently a permanent resident of the most magical town in existence.
"Any regrets about leaving your old life behind?" he asked, reading her thoughts with the accuracy that came from their completed bond.
"What old life?" She gestured toward the view of Hollow Oak spread below them, where wisps of protective magic danced visibly through the air. "I had an apartment and a job. Here I have a home and a family."
It was true. Over the past few days, she'd settled into the rhythm of sanctuary life with surprising ease. Her seer abilities proved invaluable for diagnosing magical ailments in the creatures Ryker treated, while her experience with herbal preparations made her a natural assistant for the more complex healing potions.
More importantly, she'd found her place in the intricate web of relationships that held Hollow Oak together. Morning coffee with Freya, research sessions with Moira and Lucien, tactical discussions with the other women about defensive improvements. She belonged here in ways she'd never belonged anywhere else.
"Twyla stopped by earlier while you were with the injured fox," Ryker said. "She wanted to know if we'd be interested in expanding the sanctuary to include a magical creature nursery."
"A nursery?"
"For young shifters who need safe space to learn control. Apparently, our success with the Void situation has made Hollow Oak's reputation spread in supernatural circles." His green eyes sparkled with excitement. "She thinks we could become a training center for the next generation."
Sonya felt her seer abilities stir, showing her flashes of possibility. Young wolves learning to shift under Ryker's patient guidance. Teenage witches practicing spells in Freya's garden. Children of all supernatural backgrounds growing up together, protected by the strongest magical barriers ever created.
"I love that idea," she said. "This place should be filled with hope for the future."
"Speaking of the future," Ryker's tone turned careful, "have you had any visions lately? About what comes next?"
"A few." She'd been reluctant to mention them, not wanting to worry him with glimpses of distant possibilities. "But they're different now. Gentler. More like dreams than warnings."
"Show me?"
Sonya closed her eyes and let the visions flow, sharing them through their bond. Images of Hollow Oak ten years from now, twenty, fifty. The town growing but never losing its essential character. New couples finding love, new families putting down roots, new generations carrying forward the legacy of protection and community.
"It's beautiful," Ryker said softly. "But I notice something missing from those visions."
"What?"
"Children. Specifically, our children."
A blush creeped into Sonya's cheeks. They'd talked about the future in abstract terms, but the idea of actually building a family together still felt almost too wonderful to voice.
"I haven't seen those visions yet," she admitted. "Maybe because they're too personal, too close to my heart."
"Or maybe because you're not ready to see them yet."
Before she could respond, another vision hit—this one so clear and immediate that it took her breath away.
A little girl with auburn curls and green eyes, maybe five years old, chasing fireflies through the sanctuary grounds while her laughter echoed across the evening air. A boy with dark hair and brown eyes, older, more serious, helping his father tend to an injured deer with gentle hands. Both children moving with the easy confidence of those who'd never known a world withoutmagic, without love, without the absolute certainty that they were cherished and protected.
"Did you see that?" Ryker asked, his voice tight with wonder.
