Chapter 201 – Blood Oath Renewed
Chapter 201 – Blood Oath Renewed
Eli
Blackthorn has never been this quiet.
Not even the wind dares to whisper by the time the moon climbs to its full height. The air feels carved from silver and smoke.
The courtyard has been cleared and ringed in torchlight. The brazier stands at its center, an old iron thing, carved with the same runes we all wear over our hearts. Someone polished it until it gleams.
One by one, the pack gathers. Jace and Hazel first, their shoulders brushing as they take their place. Mara stands tall beside the flame, her face half-lit, half-shadow, the perfect commander even in peace. Vaughn’s here too, his Hollowrock wolves hanging back near the gates, silent and respectful.
Ronan steps forward and the hush deepens. The light catches on his hair, the scar along his jaw, the metal clasp of his knife belt. He looks like something carved out of the mountain itself. Steady, eternal, a little terrifying.
And somehow, mine.
He gestures for me to join him and my feet move before my brain catches up. The bond pulses through me, jittering and alive, as if I’ve swallowed lightning. I feel every heartbeat in the circle around us. Every wolf. Every breath.
Mara’s voice carries clear and low. “Tonight we seal what blood has already proven. The old vows are renewed, and the new ones written.”
One by one, the pack steps up to the brazier. They prick their palms with the ceremonial knife, letting drops of blood fall into the waiting flame. Each hiss of contact sends a curl of dark smoke into the air.
The fire doesn’t burn red, it burns black-gold, molten and alive. The smell is wild and ancient, older than any language we use to describe loyalty.
When it’s our turn, Ronan doesn’t reach for the knife. He holds out his hand instead. “Together,” he says.
I lace my fingers with his. “Always.”
We slice once, shallow but sure, our mingled blood sliding down our joined palms. When it hits the flame, the whole brazier flares. Light swallowing shadow, gold swallowing black. A wave of heat rolls through the courtyard, through me, through the bond, until every wolf feels it.
The hum of connection rises. Not just between us, but through the pack itself. One voice, one pulse, one heartbeat echoing in several hundred chests.
Ronan turns to me, eyes gone bright enough to burn. “You ready?”
“For the ceremony, or for whatever that look means?”
He doesn’t answer. Which means both. And my answer is yes.
The crowd parts as we step toward the altar stones where the rest of the ritual waits. Bowls of mixed blood and crushed herbs. Runes carved into the rock itself.
I can feel their eyes on us, my pack, my family, and for once, I don’t care about being looked at so closely. Ronan kneels, dipping his fingers into the bowl. When he draws the first mark across my chest, the heat bites sharp, then cools to a pulse that matches my heartbeat.
He paints slowly, deliberately, tracing lines of meaning only he and I understand. The runes are older than language. Loyalty, strength, surrender, home, commitment, love.
When he finishes, I take the bowl from him. My turn.
He’s already stripped to the waist, skin lit by firelight and moonlight together, muscle and shadow intertwined. I drag my fingers through the mixture, then press them to his heart. The symbol there is simple. Mine.
His breath stutters, just once. Love for him surges through me until I feel like the weight of it will drive me to my knees. My favorite place to be with him.
We don’t speak the words. We never need to. The bond does the talking. The fire surges again, gold licking at the sky, as if it approves.
Mara steps forward, voice carrying like thunder. “The Alpha and his Omega stand as proof of the oath we all share. Blood given freely. Bonds forged not in fear, but in love.”
I can feel the hum of it in my bones. The pack bows their heads, and for a heartbeat, I almost believe in gods.
Then Ronan ruins it, in the best possible way.
He turns to me, grips my jaw, and bites. Not the polite kind of bite. Not the one that hides behind ceremony. The kind that claims. That promises. That marks. That makes my cock hard and my legs weak.
A collective shiver moves through the watching wolves, half awe, half primal memory. The pain is sharp and sweet, a reminder of what we are. Flesh and fang and promise.
When he pulls back, his mouth is red, and his smile is all wolf.
“Still bored, Eli?” he murmurs.
“Getting there,” I manage, breathless.
He growls softly, the sound curling through me. “Keep testing me.”
I grin, blood still slick on my neck. “Wouldn’t dream of stopping.”
He huffs on me irritably, before laving the wound with his tongue, sending all kinds of magnificent shivers running down my back. My body arches towards him like he’s a magnet and I want to throw myself in his arms and beg him to carry me to our bed and ravish me.
The pack erupts in howls then. Hundreds of voices woven together, joy and wildness and release. The sound fills the sky. The flame roars, spiraling higher, like it wants to reach the moon itself.
The bond between us flares white-hot. I can feel him inside me, not physically, where I wish he was too, but deeper. Like a second heartbeat syncing to mine. Like the world itself exhaling through our shared lungs.
When the howls fade, Ronan’s mouth finds my ear. “You’ve made me yours in front of them all,” he murmurs. “You happy now?”
“Almost,” I whisper back. “But if you want to really make an impression…”
“Eli.”
“Yes, Alpha?”
“Don’t.”
“Do what?”
He tilts my chin up, eyes narrowing in warning. “Whatever you’re thinking.”
“Too late.”
Before he can react, I dip my finger into the last of the blood mixture and swipe a mark on his jaw. A tiny rune that roughly translates to ‘horny.’
Ronan blinks. “You didn’t.”
“Oh, I did.”
“Eli.”
“Yes?”
“You realize that means every wolf here will ask what it means.”
“Good. You should tell them.”
He stares at me for one long, heavy moment. The kind of stare that promises consequences. Then he huffs a laugh, low and dangerous. “You’re shameless.”
“And you love me for it.”
“I do,” he says simply.
He kisses me again, slow this time. The kind of kiss that turns the world quiet. The kind that says ‘we survived, and now we live.’
When we finally break apart, the flames in the brazier gutter down to embers. The ceremony is over. The oath is sealed.
The pack starts to disperse, murmuring and smiling approvingly. Mara claps Jace on the shoulder. Hazel’s laughing softly. Vaughn’s talking to her, pretending not to notice the way she keeps pretending not to stare at his mouth.
I glance back at Ronan. He’s still watching me like I’m a storm he’s decided to walk into willingly.
“So,” I say, brushing my thumb over his bite mark. “Does this mean I’m officially allowed to boss you around now?”
He arches a brow. “In your dreams. It’s the other way around, Omega.”
“Oh, I intend to test that.”
“Eli.”
“Yes, Alpha?”
“Shut up.”
I grin. “Make me.”
He does. Right there in the shadow of the dying fire, his mouth on mine, the pack laughing and whistling in the background. It’s not ceremony anymore. It’s just us.
When we finally come up for air, I glance at the embers. They’re still glowing faintly gold, stubborn as sin.
“See?” I whisper. “Even the fire knows we’re not done. I still think there should be a public copulation aspect to this whole ceremony.”
Ronan sighs, half exasperation, half fondness. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Maybe,” I say, smiling as I curl a hand around his neck. “But what a way to go.”
The bond hums, low and endless. The moon stands sentinel overhead, painting us in silver and flame. The pack howls again, and this time, it feels like laughter.
Blackthorn is whole. The night is ours. And for once, I don’t mind being a little bit immortal.
End of Book 1
Thank you so much to all the wonderful people who read this book. These characters have crawled under my skin and set up camp. Knowing I’m not the only one who loves them, warms my heart.
Please keep a look-out in the coming weeks for Book 2, where we follow Kieran on his journey to rebuild Silvercrest, and maybe finally find a love of his own. A Different Kind of Alpha: Blood Oath, by Quinn Montclair.