Page 81 of The Fated Hunter Wolf
“No pressure there,” I muttered, earning a look from Sable that I chose to ignore.
The ceremony unfolded with the kind of ancient ritual that made my wolf pay attention even while my human brain listed off all the ways this could go wrong. Weapons were blessed with herbs and protection charms woven from the hair of every pack member. It was a process that looked a lot like organized superstition, but felt oddly reassuring.
Raina came forward—and everything changed.
The elderly Heraclid positioned herself beside the bonfire as the flames reached their peak, casting shadows that danced across her weathered face. When she opened her mouth, what emerged was language through music.
The melody rose and fell like wind through forests that existed before humans learned to make maps, carrying stories of hunts and loyalty and bonds that lasted beyond death. Other voices joined gradually—older pack members who remembered fragments, younger ones adding harmonies they felt rather than knew.
I found myself humming before I realized it, my wolf responding to rhythms buried in our DNA. Beside me, Sable had gone very still, her eyes wide as she listened to sounds that predated written history.
“It’s beautiful,” she said quietly.
“It’s goodbye,” I replied, and the reality hit me. When Wyatt and Nash went to the Southern Council, they didn’t come back. This might be the last time I stood in this circle, surroundedby my pack family, listening to songs that connected us to thousands of years of pack memory.
The thought should have been sobering. Instead, it made me hyperaware of Sable beside me, the way her breathing had matched mine, the warmth of her presence in the firelight.
As Raina’s song swelled to its peak, something in the crowd changed. What had started as a formal ceremony was becoming a celebration of unity that transcended old divisions between Orion and Heraclid blood.
Logan raised his voice over the dying notes. “My beta, Rhys, and our new arrival, Sable, represent what we’ve become—stronger together than we were apart.”
Pack members began approaching us with personal blessings, small tokens, weapons that had been in families for generations. Blair pressed a silver knife into my palm so tightly the grip left marks. “Blessed by three elders,” he said seriously. “Should cut through most supernatural vampire nonsense.”
“Thanks, friend,” I said—because what else do you say when someone hands you a vampire-killing knife heirloom at your farewell party?
My attention kept drifting to Sable, who was growing increasingly tense as the evening progressed. She accepted the blessings gracefully, smiled at the appropriate moments, even laughed at Killian’s terrible joke about council bureaucracy. I could feel undercurrents through our bond—a restlessness that couldn’t be explained as pre-travel nerves.
When Kenza approached with what looked suspiciously like a peace offering—a leather journal bound with protective charms—I thought I understood what was bothering her.
“Don’t look so surprised,” Kenza said, pressing the journal into Sable’s hands. “You’re stupidly dangerous, probably suicidal, but you’re in the pack, and I really fucking hope you keep our beta safe.”
The acceptance in Kenza’s voice was grudging but genuine, and something flickered across Sable’s expression that she quickly suppressed.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Don’t make me regret it,” Kenza replied. I was surprised at how little bite it had.
As the formal ceremonies shifted toward celebration, I studied Sable’s profile in the firelight. She was holding herself carefully, even though the atmosphere was peaceful and—dare I say it—fun.
“What’s wrong?” I caught her arm as she turned from another well-wisher.
“Nothing.”
“Try again. You’re broadcasting tension through our bond like a distress beacon.”
She was quiet for a long moment, staring into the flames. When she spoke, her voice was barely audible over the celebration around us.
“It’s going to take a while to get used to you feeling things I’m feeling and hearing things I think I’m keeping to myself.” She sighed. “I’ve never had this before. People who…” Her voice trailed off.
“Know how to have a good time? Are invested in our success? Think you’re awesome simply because you’re with me?” I offered her a wink.
“People who accept me, just because. They don’t even know all that I am. And now we’re leaving, and I keep thinking…” She pressed her lips together. “I keep thinking this might be all I get.” The words came out flat, matter-of-fact, like she was discussing the weather instead of confessing something that obviously terrified her.
“We’re coming back,” I said.
“You can’t promise that.”
“Watch me.” The words came out with more conviction than I felt, but seeing her uncertainty made something protective rise in my chest. “I’m not losing this either. The pack, the territory…” I paused, then decided,fuck it. “You. None of it.”
