The last time I’d matebranded with Orion, I’d been using the connection as a hidden weapon. And still the process of bonding had been so profound it left me barely able to stand on my own two feet.
This time, I was all in as the desert winds whipped sand into a kaleidoscope of reds, golds and purples. The roaring vortex drowned out all other sounds, catching us up in the whirlwind. And yet, I could feel each tendril as matebrand ink once again pulsed intricate patterns into our skin.
I gasped, the sensation overwhelming. And I was glad when Orion’s arm settled around my waist to hold me upright. I was even more glad of the way, as the outpack whirlwind eased, he bent down until his breath feathered across my cheek.
“Elspeth,” he murmured, the word emerging from his mouth along with a breeze of cactus-scented perfection. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my mate?”
I didn’t answer him aloud. I didn’t have to. Not when his lips were so close to mine and were no longer forbidden.
Instead, I tilted up my chin, the tips of our noses brushing. His fingers grazed my neck, tentative at first before cupping my face with supreme confidence. The pads of his thumbs traced my cheekbones and I leaned into his touch, my eyelids fluttering shut.
In the ensuing darkness, I found a familiar door waiting for me. This door had been closed then opened then entirely absent. When it was present, it had been a conundrum. When it was gone, I missed it like a lost limb.
I was so grateful to have it back.
Now, reaching out with one invisible hand, I could feel Orion helping from the other side as I turned the knob to unlatch it. Together, we thrust the barrier out of the way and met in the middle.
“Mate,” he rumbled inside our minds.
“Mate,” I replied equally silently, equally fervently.
Then we were touching, both in our minds and with our bodies. My arms wrapped around his neck to hold him in place as our lips made contact. His mouth was at once firm and pliant, and I tasted starlight in the magic crackling through the air and across our skin.
The matebrand was sinking its roots deeper inside us and I didn’t care. No, that was wrong. I did care. But I wasn’t worried. Instead, I was thrilled. Ecstatic. So bubbly with joy that if Orion hadn’t been holding onto me I might have floated away into the clear blue sky.
But what passed between us was also so much more than matebrand magic. Our renewed connection was built upon moments we’d shared. Jokes cracked. Alliances forged. The pure pleasure we’d taken in each others’ company. The trust that our affections were reciprocated, would continue to grow and to bloom.
The heady brush of skin against skin matched the incredible oneness of our intangible connection. I closed my eyes and saw Orion. I opened my eyes and saw stars.
I wanted to linger in that kiss forever. But death lay at our feet and we had a lifetime of moments like this to look forward to.
Plus, we were both wolves, even if we currently stood in human skin. Wolves who looked out for our pack mates. Wolves who knew when to celebrate and when to hunt.
Now was a time for the latter. So I took one last look at the intricate tattoos curling around both of my forearms and around Orion’s neck where I’d clung to him. Then I released my mate and picked up the duty I knew Celeste was itching to address.
“We need to track down the stolen shifter children,” I told Orion.
A growl from our audience reminded me that we hadn’t been alone for our moment of intimacy, that we wouldn’t be alone in what lay ahead either. That knowledge didn’t embarrass me. Instead, it felt good.
In the end, it was portions of Vega’s pack and of Orion’s that traveled with us to Texas. Prince wanted to join in, but the Bellwethers had lost two alphas in less than a week—they needed their new leader to stay close even if they didn’t particularly want him there. And the popcorn-and-gambling alpha saw no reason to throw in his lot with us, even though I was pretty sure my grandfather was a member of his clan.
Orion and I didn’t argue either point even though we could have used extra paws on the ground. When Gabi escaped, we’d lost the element of surprise. But speed still felt more important than wasting what might have been days of negotiation building up our numbers.
Plus, it didn’t seem like a good idea to let the popcorn-and-gambling pack leader know that our greatest asset—our matebrand—perhaps wasn’t an asset after all.
Because although the complex swirls of tattoos were very much present on my skin and on Orion’s, they didn’t writhe the way they used to. Didn’t seem to offer a reservoir of magic to be tapped into at will.
“You probably just burnt them out temporarily,” Maya suggested from the seat behind me as we rode from the Houston airport to the Enclave in a rented minivan. “Orion was almost dead,” she pointed out. “It took a lot of energy to bring him back.”
“Is that your professional medical opinion?” I asked, swiveling around to face her. Doing so pressed my shoulder into Orion’s and he lifted his arm to make space for me then proceeded to rub the tension out of my neck. The contact of his fingers with my skin worked wonders to soothe my muscles but it didn’t do anything to slow my racing heart.
Unfortunately, Maya’s gentle headshake thrust tension right back into the recently loosened muscles. Meanwhile, the sight of Finnegan lounging on the seat beside Maya made me want to re-start the disagreement with Celeste that had ended when she played her new trump card.
I’d promised to treat my sister like an adult, which apparently meant respecting her declaration that Finnegan had never betrayed us. According to her, the well-dressed man had fled Orion’s pack to avoid becoming privy to information he’d feel the need to relay to the Council, information that might harm Celeste.
We were meant to accept Hailey as the most likely culprit for warning Gabi about the invasion of her apartment. And, sure, Celeste agreed it was messed up that Finnegan had tricked her into erasing Orion’s and my original matebrand. But he’d had a change of heart. He’d never do anything like that again.
Based on all this, we were to believe that Finnegan had every right to come along on this infiltration. We were supposed to understand he wanted to save children who’d been raised in captivity like he had.
I didn’t like any of it, but I’d promised not to argue the point. And now we’d run out of time to do so. Because our minivan was the final one in a line of five, brake lights from the fourth glaring in the darkness as Vega’s van slowed then stopped. That meant we had to stop also since the narrow lane winding toward the Enclave was only wide enough for one vehicle unless the others pulled over to let us pass.
They didn’t pull over, which suggested the outer gate I’d breezed through more times than I could count while working for the Council wasn’t open. Unusual, but not a deal-breaker since we’d come prepared with three possible ways to get through a locked gate.
Worse than the barrier presented by the gate itself was what it meant—that the Council had anticipated our presence. I glared at Finnegan, sent a request to Orion via the mate bond to keep an eye on the other man, then opened the door and stepped out into the night.
The scent of ozone hung heavy. As if a storm was gathering. Or—as I realized when hairs on my arms stood on end—as if the gate wasn’t merely locked.
Sure enough, a spark in the darkness suggested the perimeter fence was buzzing with electricity. It had never been turned on when I’d passed by here before.
We were definitely expected. And someone very much didn’t want us to get in.
So when a dark silhouette of a figure strode past the van in front of me, I instantly dropped into a fighter’s crouch. “Edgy?” Vega asked as she stepped out of the glare of headlights.
I straightened but didn’t stash my knife back into its hiding place as I answered her question with another question. “The gate’s locked?”
“Locked and unmanned.” She held out her hand to show me what she’d found there as she added, “But there was a note.”
The handwriting on the post-it was nearly as familiar as my own and so was the method of communication. Back when Celeste and I were kids, Gabi had relayed our homework assignments just like this. Numbers of sit-ups, impenetrable chapters to work through—she hadn’t gone easy on us even when our ages were numbered in single digits.
