Chapter 66

Cora

The early morning was quiet—too quiet for what was about to happen.

The ritual circle was simple, drawn with Kingston’s fingers in salt across the wooden floor of his bedroom. A flickering candle sat in each corner of the room, casting golden halos against the walls.

Somewhere nearby, Riley slept soundly in the guest room, blissfully unaware that his mother was about to tie her soul to another during the early hours of morning.

“Usually another pack leader does this,” Kingston explained. “But since we can’t tell anyone…”

“There’s no one higher ranked than the Alpha King,” I said. “You’re doing a fine job regardless.”

He smirked at me. “It’s not going to be my prettiest work, but it will do what we need it to.” He went back to setting up the ceremony.

My hands trembled slightly as I stood barefoot in the center of the circle. Kingston was already there, eyes steady and warm, his aura thrumming with calm despite the enormity of what we were about to do.

“You sure about this?” he asked gently, his voice a balm against my nerves.

I swallowed, then nodded. “Yes. But I need your promise again. This stays between us, for now.”

His hand reached for me, fingers threading with mine as though anchoring me to something real, something safe.

“I swear it,” he said, his eyes glowing faintly gold. “No one will know until you’re ready.”

My wolf stirred at the words, comforted by the truth of them. She wanted this. She had wanted it from the start, even when I’d fought her, even when I’d run. Now, she waited just beneath my skin, ready to rise and meet her mate.

Kingston raised our joined hands between us and pressed his forehead to mine. “Then let’s begin.”

The ritual wasn’t complex, but it was deeply sacred. A bond like this wasn’t just physical; it was spiritual, emotional, and permanent. It tied our wolves together for life.

It was an anchor. A vow. A surrender.

He spoke the first words in an ancient language of werewolf kind, and though I didn’t know the meaning, I felt their weight. They echoed through my bones, vibrating like a drumbeat in my blood. My wolf rose in me, not in protest, but in reverence.

She was ready.

I followed, repeating the phrases as best I could. My voice shook, but Kingston didn’t flinch. He nodded with every word, guiding me through it.

Then came the exchange of blood.

He took a ceremonial blade from the nightstand—small, silver-edged—and gently cut his palm. The scent of his blood filled the room: rich, metallic, and familiar. He held out his hand, and I took it, slicing my own and ignoring the bright sting. It would all be worth it.

The moment our blood met, something snapped inside me.

Like a lock turning, or a dam breaking.

My knees buckled, and Kingston caught me. My wolf roared inside me, not in pain, but in joy. In recognition.

Mate. Ours. Bonded. She howled her delight.

The connection between us deepened so fast, it was dizzying. I could feel him—really feel him—through the bond now. Not just a pull, but a sensation. True, unfettered emotion. The beat of his heart. The steady grounding of his soul. The part of him that had been carved out and waiting for me all this time.

Kingston’s eyes met mine, glowing bright gold.

“You feel it?” he asked, voice low, reverent.

I nodded, too overwhelmed to speak.

And then the bond was sealed.

“We’re truly mates,” I said.

Just simple words spoken, but once said, they could never be returned. And I never wanted them back. It was like two pieces fitted together.

“She’s here,” I told Kingston. “I can feel my wolf. She’s awake and strong.”

I felt breathless by the intensity and rightness of her presence. It was as though I had been stumbling through life half aware until that moment.

He kissed me then—soft and indulgent, nothing like the desperation or hunger we’d shared before. This kiss was a promise. A sealing of something sacred. His lips pressed against mine with tenderness, but I could feel the passion burning just beneath the surface.

When he pulled back, his voice was husky. “Let me love you, Cora.”

I nodded again, whispering, “Please.”

Clothes fell away with reverence. There was no rush, only purpose. Kingston touched me like I was something precious, something holy. And I let myself be seen. Be known. Be loved—not for who I had to be, but for who I truly was.

We came together slowly, the bond wrapping around us like silk, threading our souls in ways I didn’t know were possible. Every movement was amplified, every breath shared. I could feel his need, his awe, his love, mirrored in my own heart.

And when it was over—when we lay tangled in sweat and warmth and heartbeat—I felt a peace I hadn’t known in years.

I curled into his side, my head on his chest. His fingers traced circles on my bare shoulder, and the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulled me.

“I love you,” he whispered.

I didn’t flinch this time. I didn’t question it.

“I love you too,” I murmured back, letting the words settle into the space between us.

My eyelids grew heavy. For the first time in weeks—maybe months—I wasn’t afraid. Not of being hunted. Not of what I was. Not of what was coming.

Because I wasn’t alone.

The last thing I felt before I slipped into sleep was Kingston’s lips on my forehead, and the bond humming between us like a lullaby.

I woke to cold sheets.

At first, I thought it was a dream. That the bond, the ritual, the touch—had all been some comfort fantasy conjured by my exhausted mind.

But the ache between my legs told me otherwise. And then there was the lingering warmth in my chest. The unmistakable bond still humming, even with indiscernible distance between us.

I sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around me. The room was quiet. Too quiet.

“Kingston?” I called softly.

No answer.

I padded across the room, grabbing one of his shirts to slip over my head. The scent of him wrapped around me, calming my rising anxiety.

I checked Riley’s room first. He was still sound asleep, one arm flung over his pillow, the other clutching his stuffed dragon. My heart squeezed at the sight of him. He was safe, whole, and here.

I returned to the master bedroom and found a note on the nightstand, scrawled in Kingston’s familiar handwriting.

Had to step out for an urgent meeting. Didn’t want to wake you. I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry—I’m not going anywhere.

I exhaled a shaky breath, pressing the note to my chest.

He wasn’t gone. Not really.

But still… the bed felt significantly colder without him.

I sank back onto the mattress, wrapping the blanket around me and staring at the ceiling. The bond was new. Raw. Beautiful. And I was already terrified of losing it.

Because nothing about my life had ever stayed good for long.

And now I had everything to lose.

But I also had something I never thought I’d find.

Hope.