Page 34 of Fated to the Lone Shifter

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The forest is quiet again, but it feels changed. As am I.

I stare up at the sky, chest still heaving, heart thudding in my ears. “What have we done?” I whisper, more to the trees than to him.

He traces the glowing runes with his fingers. “What we had to,” he murmurs. “What we had no choice but do.”

I turn my head, meeting his gaze. “And now we’re bound to something we don’t fully understand.”

He leans in, kisses my lips softly. “Then we’ll figure it out. Together.”

Together.

The word tastes like a promise. Like destiny.

As I curl into him, the sigils still glowing beneath our joined bodies, I know this is more than magic. More than lust.

It’s the beginning of a war. And I’ve just chosen my side.

I wake up gasping.

My heart’s racing. Sweat clings to my skin. My body aches in places I didn’t know could ache from a dream. I reach for him without thinking, hand fumbling across the sheets—only to grab a pillow instead.

He’s not here.

Of course he’s not here.

But gods, it felt real.

More than real.

It felt inevitable.

I turn over and fall back into a very deep sleep.

I wake feeling well rested and grounded, the best I've felt since arriving in Lolo.

I sit up slowly and run a hand over my face. The shirt still smells like him. My head drops forward, chin brushing the collar.

That’s when I see it.

Burned into the pillowcase beneath me is a mark—delicate, swirling lines that shimmer faintly like cooled embers.

I reach out with shaking fingers, tracing the shape. It pulses beneath my touch.

A summoning sigil.

Not just any mark—themark. The one every young witch is warned about in training. The Witch’s Bond. A magical seal that signifies a connection deeper than instinct or emotion.

It’s a fated mate sigil.

Etched by dream-fire and blood magic.

I scramble back, goosebumps shivering up my arms. My fingers still tingle where they touched the symbol.

This isn’t just heat. Or lust. Or even primal pull.

A link.

A promise.

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