The cheers of my pack swirled around me like wind through trees—wild, echoing, joyful. But all I could hear was the soft staccato of his breath.
Atlas still stood frozen, barely blinking, staring at the crowd like he might turn to stone at any moment. His fingers clutched the stem of his glass so tightly the tendons stood white beneath the skin of his knuckles.
His eyes—usually full of fire or that quiet, guarded softness he only showed when he thought no one was watching—were now wide with disbelief.
His gaze swept across the sea of celebrating wolves, then darted to me.
My smile tugged wider as I moved toward him, weaving through the crowd, never taking my eyes off Atlas. Wolves clapped my shoulder, called my name, raised their glasses—and I acknowledged none of it. The garden could have been empty for all I cared.
He looked like a creature caught between flight and collapse, utterly unaware that he had become the most important person here.
When I reached him, I cupped his jaw gently with one hand, letting my thumb brush the sharp edge of his cheekbone. His skin was warm, flushed beneath the lantern light, his lips parted in what I could only call stunned horror.
I could feel the rapid flutter of his pulse beneath my fingertips where they pressed against the hinge of his jaw—fast, erratic, alive.
"Draven—" he started, voice barely a whisper. "What did you—? I don't— did you mean—?"
And I didn't let him finish. I leaned in and kissed him. Right there, in front of the entire pack.
It wasn't slow or hesitant, it was grounding. Claiming. The kind of kiss that said: I've chosen you. I'll keep choosing you.
My hand slid from his jaw to the back of his neck, fingers threading into the silver-white hair at his nape, pulling him closer until his chest pressed flush against mine and there was nothing between us but heat and heartbeat.
He responded almost instantly, his body softening against me, his lips moving with mine like he'd been waiting for this moment without knowing it. His free hand came up and gripped the front of my shirt, fist closing around the fabric like he was anchoring himself to something solid.
When I finally pulled back, his face was flushed dark and he immediately dropped his forehead against my collarbone, hiding against me, shoulders drawn up tight.
A low chuckle rumbled through my chest, and I wrapped my arm around his shoulders, holding him close as the applause roared on.
Aaron raised an eyebrow from across the clearing, his flask lifted in a silent, sardonic toast. Ava looked like she might burst into delighted tears, and Levi and Kobe exchanged wide-eyed glances like they'd just witnessed the end of an age-old prophecy.
A few members of the pack approached to congratulate me—or more accurately, to poke and prod with curious smiles.
"When were you going to tell us?"
"How long has this been going on?"
"Is he moving into your wing now?"
I offered a few smirks and vague responses, but when Atlas's hand found mine and tugged hard, I followed without hesitation.
He led me through the garden, away from the lights, the whispers, the celebration—until we were alone again under the shadows of the pine trees, far from prying eyes.
The noise of the feast dimmed to a low hum behind us, replaced by the sound of wind through branches and the crunch of needles underfoot.
The moment we stopped, he turned. His eyes were wide, fierce, storming.
"Draven." His voice trembled—not with weakness, but with a mix of emotion I couldn't yet name. "What the hell just happened?"
I waited. Because I knew the rest was coming.
"You kissed me in front of everyone. You named me your mate. Publicly! Was that— Was that some kind of joke?! Because if it was, it wasn't funny at all!"
His hands gestured wildly as he paced, boots carving a tight line through the pine needles. "I don't understand—why would you do that? You didn't warn me. You didn't say anything. What if I wasn't ready? What if I made a fool of myself? What if— What if you regret it? Do you even realize what it would mean for me if you change your mind?"
I stepped in, catching both his hands, holding them steady between us. His fingers were trembling, his palms damp with sweat despite the cool night air.
"I'm not changing my mind, Atlas."
He shook his head, breathless. "You don't get it. I'm not the strongest. I'm not the most respected. I'm still learning to control my powers. I'm not—"
"You're exactly what I need," I cut in. "And what this pack needs."
"But if you—"
"No," I said again, firmer this time. "You don't get to doubt yourself like this. Not with me. You earned your place here. You earned me."
His voice cracked. "And if I'm not enough?"
I stepped closer, closing the final inches of space between us until his chest nearly touched mine. I could smell him—pine needles, sharp and clean, cut through with the salt of sweat and something darker, warmer, that was just him.
It made Sirius surge forward with a low, possessive growl that vibrated through my ribs.
"Then I'll spend the rest of my life proving you are."
My hands slipped to his waist, fingers pressing into the lean muscle above his hips as I leaned down, brushing my lips across his cheek, his jaw, the soft hollow just beneath his ear where his pulse hammered against the skin.
"Because I've already made my choice," I murmured against his throat. "You're not getting rid of me now."
He let out a shaky laugh. "That sounds more like a threat than a promise."
I smirked against his skin. "Then you'd better take it seriously. Because the Moon Goddess has rewarded you."
I let my lips trail lower, teasing the curve of his neck where it met his shoulder, feeling the shiver roll through his body like a wave.
"With me," I growled.
He gasped, eyes fluttering shut, his head tipping back involuntarily. "Draven…"
I kissed him again—deeply this time, one hand cradling the back of his skull, the other gripping his hip. He kissed me back with everything he had, his arms wrapping around my neck, his body arching into mine like he was trying to crawl under my skin.
When we finally came up for air, his eyes were glassy with tears—and something else.
Joy. Relief. Love.
"I still can't believe this is real," he whispered.
I grinned. "Then let me make it more real."
Before he could blink, I bent, wrapped my arms around his thighs, and hauled him over my shoulder.
"Draven!" he barked, half-laughing, half-outraged.
"No more interruptions tonight," I said, striding toward the packhouse with him slung across my back like he weighed nothing. "The next time I kiss you, it'll be in private—and longer."
He pounded his fist against my back, the hits more playful than forceful. "You're insufferable!"
"And you're mine."