Page 87 of Arranged Wolf's Nanny
Silence stretched. The longest silence of his life.
Then Rosalia moved. Slowly at first, then with more surety, she crossed the final steps between them and sat gently on the edge of the bed. Her hand reached for his, tentative, trembling.
“Rick,” she whispered.
He caught her hand, held it tight.
Her eyes shone, bright with tears she refused to shed. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear those words.”
He bowed his head, pressing his forehead to her knuckles. The scent of her, smoke, blood, and the quiet sweetness that was purely her, filled him.
“Say yes,” he murmured.
Her laugh broke on a sob. “Yes. Gods, yes.”
Relief tore through him, fierce enough to leave him shaking. He pulled her into his arms, ignoring the pull of bandages, the ache of his wounds. She came willingly, folding against him, her arms circling his shoulders.
For the first time in longer than he could remember, Rick let himself breathe. Truly breathe.
They stayed like that, tangled together in silence, while the world outside began to stitch itself back together. The Iron Walkers would rebuild. The dead would be mourned. The scars would remain. But here, in this room, something new had begun.
A family.
His.
Chapter 21 - Rosalia
Six months later
The cries of the pack echoed through the Pine Shadow Grove, roaring triumph as Rick bent her by the waist and kissed her so soundly she thought she might faint. Their hands remained joined together, bound in woven flowers.
Of course, any mating ceremony Rick was involved in would be nothing but traditional. She wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Three cheers for the fuckin’ Clawslayer!” Dane hollered, running over to pick them both up and spin them around as soon as Felix stepped back. Rick growled in alarm, but Rosalia could only giggle.
Apparently, killing the Alpha of the Black Claws was enough to earn her her very own nickname.
Clawslayer.
She rather liked it.
“Put me down, you absolute oaf,” Rick snarled, shoving away, yanking Rosalia back into the safe circle of his arms. She stumbled slightly, dizzy with joy, relishing the strength of his arms around her.
Dane held his hands up in mock surrender, even as Lola stalked over to tell him off. “Couldn’t be sorrier,Johnslayer.”
“Imbecile,” Rick muttered, though Rosalia spied a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth.
“Congratulations,” Lola said, almost bowing slightly as she dragged her mate away.
“Thank you!” Rosalia called after her, wrapping her arms around her mate’s waist. He grumbled, nuzzling into the side of her neck, eyes flashing a warning at Dane’s retreating figure.
Rosalia didn’t mind. She liked him protective.
The others surrounded them, congratulating them with more celebration and ease than their first exchange of vows. Rick greeted them with all the haughtiness of a king holding court, but Rosalia had no such reservations. This was her pack. Her family. She was done hiding herself away. She hugged anyone and everyone, not even trying to temper her enormous grin, throwing herself into her community with joyous abandon.
He might have pretended to be sniffy, but Rosalia caught the satisfied gleam in Rick’s eye as he watched her. It warmed her to her core.
The fallout from the battle had been brutal. They had lost many young wolves, fighters who had given their lives defending Silvermist’s borders, and the mourning rites lasted the winter months, heavy and sick with grief.
