As I look at Cora, though, I’m shocked to see that she’s clearly uncomfortable. I frown, confused and a little frustrated. This was in no way out of her comfort zone, as far as I knew – all she had to do was carry a baby into the woods a little distance. What the hell was going on? When the priest
Sinclair I move quickly through the paperwork that the priestess gives us, half of my attention on Ella and Cora across the room. Rafe isn’t hungry yet – I know this for sure, and I know that Ella knows too. He ate on the way here, in the car. So, what he hell is she up to? I hand the paperwork b
“Exactly,” I respond, nodding. We’re silent for a moment, looking over at the girls, each thinking our private thoughts. But after a moment, Roger asks a question of his own. “Wait,” he says, frowning at me. I start out of my reverie, looking at him. “If we’re Codger,” he muses, “…what are you?”
Ella The morning of the moon ceremony finds me, unsurprisingly, in the kitchen. Eating. Rafe is with me this time, giggling happily as I dance happily around the room with him, singing about how delicious carrots are as I pour some baby carrots out from their bag onto a plate and begin to munch on
“No,” Henry says quickly, looking up at me. “I mean – if it’s all the same to you, I’ll hold him a little longer.” I nod eagerly, touched deeply to see the bond forming between them already. “He looks like you,” Henry says, smiling at my mate. “You, too, were a little bowling ball when you were bo
“Well,” Henry answers, hesitating. “Cora and Roger will see the prophecy.” My face falls a little when I realize the implications of this. “Really? Unfair,” I declare, pouting. Henry laughs a little along with me. “It will bring them closer to him, give them a bond.” “Well,” I sigh, “I want them
Ella As a group, we head together into the darkness of the forest. “Did we have to go somewhere so creepy for this?” I ask Sinclair, looking warily around the woods. Usually my wolf thrills to be under the canopy of the trees, but today, I can feel her wary inside me. “It’s a sacred space,” Sinc
“Who presents this child for dedication?” she calls out, her voice steady and resonant. “We do,” Sinclair responds, his voice resonant and strong. “His mother and I.” The priestess nods deeply to us, part of the ritual, recognizing our intent. Then, she continues. “And who will carry this boy to m