“They shift.” His words take on rumbling intensity. “From that moment until completion, they remain in animal form. Human thoughts recede. Instinct dominates.”
“And hunting begins next?”
He nods. “The male leads the first hunt, demonstrating provision abilities. The female proves her hunting skills on the second day. Both demonstrate strength, speed, and endurance.”
“What about nights?” I ask softly.
He watches me in the darkness. “Nights focus on bonding. Running together. Sleeping curled against each other. Building physical familiarity.”
Heat spreads through my body at the image. My panther strains against my control, eager for this primal communion.
“And the final night?”
“Physical claiming occurs.” His gaze holds mine. “First as animals, then humans. The connection forms completely, linking minds and bodies.”
I move another step toward him, drawn by something beyond rational thought. “And afterward?”
“Afterward, no separation exists. Ever.” His expression reveals momentary pain. “That’s why modern shifters rarely complete wild bonding rituals. The sacrifice of individual identity proves too great.”
“But we’d remain ourselves,” I argue. “Simply connected.”
“Connected beyond what contemporary shifters comprehend.” He shakes his head. “Your society valuesindependence above all else. The bond eliminates that entirely.”
“You can’t know my values,” I challenge, continuing forward. The magnetic pull strengthens with proximity, creating tingling sensations across my skin. “Perhaps I’m less ‘conventional’ than you assume.”
“Prove it,” he murmurs.
His challenge hangs between us in the moonlit clearing. My control falters, my panther rising. Wild energy surrounds us in the living darkness.
“If we shifted now,” I wonder, “what would happen?”
“The bond would immediately strengthen.” His voice deepens, roughens. “Our animals already recognize each other. In shifted form, beneath moonlight, in wild territory... instinct would overwhelm us.”
“Would that initiate the ritual?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “The ritual requires conscious intention from both participants. But we would experience what could exist—what the bond offers.”
My heartbeat intensifies until I believe he must hear it. Part of me yearns to retreat to Haven’s Heart, to safety, rules, and clear boundaries. But another part—growing stronger since meeting Zane—wants to plunge into this unknown.
“Would shifting momentarily help us comprehend?” I whisper.
“It would complicate resistance.” His pupils expand, black nearly consuming silver. “Once our animals connect more deeply, the pull becomes virtually irresistible.”
I begin to comprehend his fear. Not of me, but what I represent—a fundamental challenge to everything he believes about strength and survival. Just as he challenges everything I believe about structure and cooperation.
“Tell me about pack laws,” I say, forcing myself to stepbackward, thinking rationally. “If I became your mate, what obligations would bind me?”
“Pack before self,” he recites immediately. “Alpha pair before pack. Cubs before all. The strong protect the weak. Territory must be defended to death.”
“What about my obligations to Haven’s Heart? To the settlements?”
“They would become secondary.” His honesty cuts sharply. “A mated pair’s primary loyalty belongs to each other and their pack. All other connections weaken.”
I imagine abandoning my duty, my brother, my people. The thought nauseates me. Yet the attraction toward Zane feels equally powerful—a biological imperative I struggle to contain.
“This creates an impossible situation,” I whisper.
“Yes.” His features harden. “Which necessitates continued resistance, regardless of consequences.”
