165: Will You Take This?

Will You Take This?

RETH2

The world around them, the people, the music, everything disappeared.

He'd never imagined—never even dreamed…

"Elia," he asked hoarsely, "Do you know what you do?"

As she nodded, he swallowed and swallowed, hope warring with fear, warring with pure joy.

"Aymora taught me. It's… I understand. I wanted to, Reth. I wanted to show you—and everyone else—what you mean to me."

His breath stopped. Just stopped. His heart pounded in his ears, and his fingers shook as he reached for the soft fabric in her hand, and wrapped it around his palm so his fingers were still free. Then he met her eyes and knew his own were glowing.

"Don't. Move," he rasped.

She blinked, but did as he said and stayed perfectly still.

Heart pounding and fingers shaking so badly he feared he would tangle her hair, Reth reached up to pull the pins and spines from her hair, one by one, letting the tiny pieces of wood and bone slide from his grasp and clatter to the dirt.

She stood, wide-eyed, watching his face as he searched her hair, pulling every tiny sliver from it, until it tumbled in pieces, one-by-one around her shoulders. And when the last piece came down, he could finally sigh his relief that her neck was hidden.

Then, with a growl that would warn any male in earshot, so low he felt it in his belly, she plunged his fingers into her hair, taking it by handfuls and gently tugging her head back and down.

"I love you, Elia," he rasped. "I cannot believe you honor me like this," he croaked, his voice breaking, but he did not let himself hesitate.

With her head tilted back like that, he could look her straight in the eyes. So he locked in on her and growled, "In this life and the next," he vowed. Then opened his mouth against the point of her throat and, with a snarl that had those around them stepping back, he took her in his teeth and latched on.

She gasped and gripped his shoulders as he began to suck, the growl puttering against her skin anytime someone moved nearby, though he was barely aware of it.

His mind swam with everything he'd ever asked of her, everything she'd been through—the time and energy she'd put into this night, the exhaustion she'd had even before they began to train. And yet… and yet… she thought of him. She offered herself. Before the people.

Before the Pride.

Creator's Light, he didn't deserve her.

He didn't.

She gasped as his teeth pressed against her skin, either side of her throat, but he held her by her hair and silently reassured her he wouldn't break it.

This was no claiming.

This was no Rite.

This was the ultimate act of trust between Mates, and she'd honored him. And he would honor her in return.

Tears sprang into his eyes at her courage, at the reverence she both offered and demanded. At the sacrifice she gave…

He had to let her go. He couldn't do everything in his heart here, before all the people. But he would give her everything possible.

When he came off her neck, his vision was blurred. As he relaxed his grip in her hair, combing his fingers through it until they were free, then slowly unwrapping the scarf from his hand, he laid it at her throat, to cover the mark he'd left, pulled it around her slim neck, and began to tie it at the back.

"Elia, I…" he trailed off, then cleared his throat. "You honor me," he whispered, then caught her eyes again, surprised by how difficult it was. He felt as if his chest had been cut open and his ribs cracked for the world to see his frantically beating heart. "I cannot show you everything I would, here, before the people, but know… know that I am on my knees before you," he breathed.

She put a hand to his face and smiled through tears. "I never need you on your knees, Reth," she whispered back. "Only at my side."

The call erupted from him then, not the mating call, but a declaration, a booming resonance that travelled throughout the WildWood, and was heard by every Leonine for miles. It demanded their full attention on their King and Clan Leader, their submission, and their response.

And, one by one, respond they did.

Elia's eyes flew wide as, behind her, a deep, rolling call began in the throats of Brant and the other elders and wise-women, in the ancient tongue.

As Reth called again, the response came this time not just from the elders and their mates, but also the Leonine of high status—the masters, the coaches, the watchers. He called again, and now the parents and clan watchers joined the chorus. And so on. And so on.

With each wave of Reth's booming call, more of the Leonine stood tall and responded.

The hair on the back of Reth's neck stood up as something within him rose to the call—the unity of his people, the unity of mind and heart that he only found in the Pride and when the Creator was pleased.

Elia didn't take her eyes off him, but he knew if she'd had moveable ears, they would have been twitching back and forth, as she listened to him call, then heard them respond. Voices rose across the WildWood, echoing over the canopy, and throughout the Tree City, until finally, every Leonine in earshot, even the young, called response to their Leader, and to his mate in a harmony of respect.

The other tribes circled, listening, nodding, some moved, others simply intrigued. But every Leonine stood that evening in honor of their Queen, and Reth's heart sang with it.

Then it was done and he kissed her, his eyes squeezed shut against the torrent of emotion that threatened to wash him away. He kissed her, and stroked her hair, and let his fingers brush against the scarf she now wore as a mark of her belonging—of her giving of herself.

He didn't deserve her. He knew that.

But he was so damn grateful that she was his.

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