Chapter 4

Allison

"If I walk anywhere with you, it's with rules," I say.

"No surprise touches, even if Ruby pushes, no public claim until public respect and no telling me to trust you while you stand in a photo with someone who wants me gone."

He nods. He doesn't flinch at that last part, even though he knows I saw him at lunch with Alpha James, Luna Janet, and their daughter all arranged to look perfect. "Agreed."

I glance at him, and the air warms enough that the chill from the stone loses ground. His eyes darken and clear, and the pitch of his voice shifts on the next words showing that his wolf is close to the surface. It should be funny but it lands as gentle.

"Loki wants to meet Ruby," he admits. "He's been loud about it. He asks if it's rude to ask. I don't know what to tell him."

"It isn't rude," I say, and Ruby leans close enough that my vision prickles. "But it's a bad idea. If they touch, they'll attach, and if I'm going to do what I came to do, I can't make that harder."

He studies my face, not to test the boundary but to memorize it. He nods. "Okay. Then we wait."

I expect an argument about goddesses or fate or patience. He doesn't go there. He lets me hold the ground I marked, and that unlocks something I didn't know I'd braced.

"Allison," he says, and he says my name with care. "I'm not letting you reject us without saying this where it counts."

I still, and he speaks in the tone I've only heard when a patrol comes in hot.

"I, Alpha Elijah Blue, accept you, Allison Grey, as my mate and Luna."

The line under my sternum goes taut. Heat moves through me, steady rather than sudden, and Ruby makes a sound I've only heard when the moon clears the trees. It doesn't shout. It holds.

Breath leaves and returns. "Why say that here?" I ask, because I need the math.

"Because I was always going to say it somewhere," he answers. "And because even if you tell me to walk back to that lawn and sit through every speech without you beside me, I'll do it, and I'll still be your mate when the cameras are off. You get to choose when the rest of the world hears it."

He looks like someone who decided to pay a price he already counted. My hands shake a little as I set the river stone down so I don't drop it.

"Then you get this," I say, and match his steadiness. "I'm not rejecting you today but I'm also not promising I can stand in your great room tomorrow and let your father call me anything but a name on a roster. I am promising I won't run without telling you first."

"That's enough," he says, and means it.

We sit with the sound of water filling in the empty corners. Damp air moves across my arms and raises gooseflesh that has more to do with the way his eyes keep darkening than the temperature. I pull my knees in for a moment, then make myself relax my shoulders again. I'm not hiding, I'm resting.

"Do I get to ask questions?" he says after a minute, playful enough to ease the edge, careful enough not to poke.

"You can ask three," I tell him, because if he asks more, I'll either climb into his lap or run, and neither ends well tonight.

He grins, then wipes it away like he knows what it does to me. "One; do your parents know you're here instead of on the lawn?"

"They know I come to the water to think," I say, and grimace because I didn't leave a note. "I'll text my mom before I head back."

"Two; does Daniel know about.." He gestures, inclusive and precise enough.

"Yes," I say. "He saw me shift when we were fourteen. He's kept it for seven years. He's family because he chose to be."

"Three; if I walk you back along the treeline, will you let me hold your hand where no one can see?" His voice dips at the end, not begging, just asking.

"Yes," I say. That's a rule I can live with.

His shoulders loosen as he stands and offers his hand up without touching. I take it and the contact is warm and sure, like a circuit closing. We end up closer than what is polite because anything else would be false.

"Before we go," he says, eyes darkening and clearing again, "one thing that isn't a question. If you need me to tell my family to sit down, I'll do it. If you need me to tell my father to stop, I'll say it in words people can't mistake."

"I don't want you to wreck your standing because I made you choose on my first day," I say, because even thinking about it makes me unsteady.

"I'm not wrecking it," he says. "I'm deciding how to use it."

I nod because anything else will turn into tears. He squeezes my fingers once and lets go. We step off the stone and onto the packed path, moving through ferns while the water keeps running behind us.

The woods sound different now. It starts subtle, like a breath caught wrong. Ruby lifts her head and goes still inside my mind, while Elijah tilts his ear toward the thicker brush and narrows his eyes. A south wind pushes a scent that doesn't belong to the pack or family.

"There," I say quietly, pointing through the trees to our left. "And there."

He doesn't argue. He flicks a message into the triplet channel, habit written into him, and keeps his voice steady.

"Rules?" he asks, not making it a joke.

"Rules," I say. "No grandstanding. No shifting unless we have to and no giving anyone the idea I'm soft because I didn't show up where a camera told me to."

He smiles sharply and rolls his shoulders as if he's ready to run. "Yes, Luna," he says, quiet enough that only I hear it.

We step to the edge of the clearing together. The trees move, and our plans collide with something else.