Soon, he’d force me away from Orion. His impatience would prompt him to quench the last hint of light out of Orion’s eyes even faster than it was already fading.
I couldn’t let that happen. But what could I do to prevent it? The endless yodeling of Orion’s pack mates was making it impossible to think. And I’d run out of options…
Bellwether acted before I expected him to. Just like twice before, he landed on top of me. Just like twice before, I wasn’t prepared. And this time, the heavy weight of the older man’s body folded my torso down onto Orion, crushing the wolf who couldn’t afford further injury.
I didn’t think. Just lashed out. Shoved the dead weight of my attacker away from me…
And it worked. Bellwether tumbled sideways, not even trying to maintain his advantage. He thudded onto the bloody sand beside me, face staring directly into the sun.
His lack of a flinch at being blinded helped me understand why it had been so easy to dislodge him. My counter-offensive wasn’t what had twisted Bellwether’s head at an unnatural angle to his body. My counter-offensive wasn’t what had killed the man who had tried to kill my mate.
No, the responsible party was Prince. Orion’s friend stood tall above me, taking a step sideways to block the glaring sunlight as he spoke not to me but to the assembled watchers. “Orion’s pack is under my protection,” he intoned, voice redolent with alpha power. And despite his relatively tender age, I doubted anyone would argue, especially after he’d just snapped Bellwether’s neck.
Vaguely, I noted that I’d prompted yet another transfer of power within the Bellwether pack, something I should have felt guilty about. But there was no room for guilt to gain a toehold. Instead, I was fiercely glad that Prince was taking charge of one set of potential problems. I was glad not to have to deal with Bellwether while trying to cram the life back into Orion.
Because I wasn’t giving up. Even though there were more flies landing on him now. Even though I’d let up pressure on his wound when Bellwether fell atop me and it was now hard to decide where to press to stem the gushing flow of blood.
“We should leave.” That was Vega, helping in the only way she could—by drawing unaffiliated wolves away from here. Because even though the immediate threat of Bellwether had been neutralized, Orion still lay unable to defend himself. Blood I couldn’t seem to hold in seeped out from between my fingers. It scared me that thrusting the heel of my hand into his wound with all my strength didn’t evoke even the hint of a reaction to what should have been excruciating pain.
“Can’t see why we’d do that.” This new voice belonged to the other alpha. “Just wish I’d brought popcorn. Most entertainment this desert has offered in months.”
His less-than-helpful commentary was interrupted by a rustle of movement behind me, as if the crowd surrounding us was turning or parting. But I didn’t glance over to see what was happening. Didn’t do anything other than beg the outpack to save Orion, making promises I couldn’t keep.
“Let him live and we’ll become matebranded,” I whispered even though Orion had refused my most recent offer of that renewed connection. “Let him live and I’ll welcome you inside me. I won’t argue. I’ll be grateful for your presence.”
The sand didn’t even skitter in a slight breeze this time. There was no electricity, no firefly-like sparks of light.
Vaguely, I noted the presence of signature aromas I hadn’t caught in days—those belonging to Gabi and Maya. Vaguely, I heard my ex-mentor complaining. “I don’t see Celeste and Finnegan.”
“They’re coming.” That was Donovan, the whir of his all-terrain wheelchair advancing along with his voice as he traveled across the sand toward us. He must not have known Orion was wounded because he called ahead, speaking directly to his alpha. “I didn’t tell you, Orion, because I knew you’d pass the information along to your mate and she’d confront her sister. But we’ve been aware of Celeste sneaking out to meet Finnegan for days now. Both of them will be along momentarily.”
“Let me through.” That was Maya, who must have either seen Orion or felt his pain down the pack bond. Because her voice, unlike her mate’s, was higher pitched than usual. And when her knees thudded onto the sand beside me, she tried to remove Orion from my grip.
I knew it was wise to let a healer look the patient over. But I couldn’t force my fingers to release him. I only realized I was growling when Maya’s voice turned soft.
“Okay,” she soothed as if I was the wounded wolf. “I’ll examine him here. Your instincts were good. Maintain pressure. I just need to turn him a little to see…”
Her voice trailed off. Her scent turned as sour as the queasy insides of my stomach. Maya didn’t say anything further, but I knew her diagnosis.
Orion was dying. It was too late to save his life.
For one long moment, we sat there side by side, me and the woman who could have become my sister whether or not we shared genetic material. A sweet future that never would be unspooled in front of my eyes like a reversing memory. A new future took its place.
Without Orion, I’d leave here. I couldn’t stay and be reminded of his kindness, his patience, the green thumb he used to nurture not just his garden but everyone who came within arm’s reach.
I couldn’t stay here and remember the chances we’d been given, chances I’d tossed aside so carelessly. The moment of wonder in the outpack when Orion and I had first met. His sacrifice when he’d broken our bond to save my life.
Maya was still talking to me, but at first the sounds were mere syllables. Then, as words came into focus, they made no sense. I knew Orion’s sister enjoyed romance novels, but why was she talking about them at a time like this?
“…thought today was a double-date trope,” she murmured to me while stroking the fur of Orion’s ruff. He was only slightly bloody there. If I looked at him from the neck up, it was possible to imagine he was merely napping with his eyes open.
“But that’s not what this is,” Maya continued. “Elspeth, listen to me. It’s time for the grand gesture.”
The grand gesture? What was she talking about?
Static electricity from Orion’s fur cleared my brain just enough so I finally understood what Maya was saying. Our broken matebrand had been using romance-novel tropes against us for over a month now. What it wanted was for me and Orion to commit to each other, to admit that our feelings were greater than the fear holding us back.
In a rom-com, I’d find a way to have Orion’s name and mine splashed across the screen of a massive jumbotron. I’d race across a crowded airport bearing balloons spelling out my apology, stopping the man I loved before he boarded a flight.
I had neither jumbotron nor balloons now. But perhaps if I made as grand of a gesture as was possible under our current circumstances, the alien power of the matebrand might be tempted to save Orion’s life?
If so, I was all in. I’d try anything. It didn’t matter that I’d been raised to keep my emotions under wraps. It didn’t matter that my first impulse was always to speak like a human. I was glad to be a wolf now for the sake of Orion’s survival.
So I didn’t murmur this time. I let my voice ring out for all to hear, the words tumbling forth in ardent entreaty as I grasped for any shred of our tattered and broken mate bond.
“Orion, you told me that a relationship is like an apple tree. Sometimes you have to pinch off the first round of blooms to strengthen the roots. But our roots are strong. They’re so strong. And you don’t keep pinching off flowers every year. That’s not how fruit trees work. It’s not how mate bonds work either. At some point, you have to trust that I know my own mind. That I want you in my life forever.”
As I spoke, the bloody sand began creeping up the side of my naked thigh. Its advance was rough and damp and thoroughly unpleasant. I had to fight the instinct to flick it away as it traveled from me onto Orion, inching like a gruesome tongue across his body until it reached his wound.
There, it congealed like a bandage…or possibly like a leech sucking out the liquid we’d already learned granted power to the outpack. Was I feeding a hungry alien or was I helping Orion? Would this slow or accelerate his decline?
I couldn’t tell, so I kept talking. “You’re right that I wasn’t ready to become your mate when we first met. I didn’t even understand my own wolf, let alone your wolf. But you gave me the time I needed and I learned who I was. Who you are.”
I swallowed against dryness. The sun was unbearably hot. And the leech bandage seemed to be engorging. This wasn’t working.
Didn’t matter. Instinct told me to talk, so I kept talking. “I don’t just like who you are, I like who we are together. I like that the most, actually.
“No, I don’t like it. I”—my throat tried to close in self-preservation, but I forced out the words I’d never used around another human being—“I love it. I love you, Orion. Please become my mate. I need you. I can’t live without you. I”—
