My turn.
I did not hesitate with my own hand.
Drake did not protest.
My blood meant nothing compared to hers.
I cut my palm deeper than necessary, because apparently even during sacred rituals I was still a dramatic bastard, and let my blood fall into the chalice with hers.
The moment it touched, the bond between us surged.
Aria gasped softly.
I caught her waist with my free hand before I even understood moving.
Sparks flooded our joined hands, warm and golden beneath the red. Not visible to everyone, maybe. Maybe only to us. Maybe only to the parts of us that had already chosen each other in every way that mattered.
The elder lifted the chalice.
“Blood of the Alpha. Blood of the Luna. Heart of Greenwood. Will of the pack.”
His voice carried through the garden now, strong and ol
