Chapter 22: Claim

Ronan's POV

"Again," the oldest aunt said. "From 'before these packs.'"

I stood in the barn with my hands behind my back and said it again.

"Before these packs and under this moon, I name Mara Linwood mine, and I am hers."

"Slower."

"Before these packs..."

"And don't look at the floor," said the second aunt, from the hay bale. "Nobody in this valley wants to be claimed by a man who looks at the floor."

"I'm not looking at the floor."

"You're looking at your boots."

"They're in the same direction."

Three of them snorted.

I had been an Alpha for eight years and a hollow one for all of them.

I had never been so frightened of anything as I was of a few plain lines in front of four old women.

I knew why.

The claim wasn't a gift to her.

It was a leash on me with no end, tied by my own hands, and I'd chosen to ask anyway.

For three weeks I had told myself that wanting her was enough.

I had told myself that asking would be taking.

It wasn't.

She had told me so with her knees on either side of my hips.

She had said she wanted me to have a week to find out if it was true.

I'd found out in about forty minutes.

"Again," the oldest aunt said.

"Before these packs..."

Abel's voice carried across the yard.

"Ronan! Truck at the gate! It's the north fork!"

I went out with my shirt untucked and the aunts behind me.

An old pickup had stopped in the yard with a trailer hitched to it.

The north fork's Alpha climbed down from the cab in his Sunday coat.

He took off his hat and stood there turning it in his hands.

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