Maybe Sarsa was right about the magic. Maybe this was primal instinct, my blood understanding what my brain refused to accept. Maybe the name we gave it didn't matter worth a damn.
What mattered was simple. When Jordan was here, the world burned bright with purpose. Without her, I was a weapon with no war to fight, going through the hollow motions of existence.
"I don't know about bonds or ancient magic," I said finally, my voice like gravel grinding against stone. "I don't know if the old ways are coming back to life or if this is something else entirely."
Sarsa watched me with those ancient eyes, patient as stone.
"But I know this." My hands clenched into fists, certainty flooding my veins like molten iron. "Jordan belongs at my side. Here. In our village. With me."
A slow smile crept across Sarsa's weathered face, transforming her stern features into something almost wicked. "Now that," she said, her voice rich with satisfaction, "sounds like a male who's finally stopped being a stubborn ass."
She pushed herself to her feet with a grunt, brushing dust from her robes. "But what do I know? I'm just a crazy old woman who talks about magic and mate bonds."
The sarcasm in her tone was thick enough to cut with a blade.
Something broke loose in my chest—a dam I hadn't even known I'd built. Before I could think better of it, I caught Sarsa in an embrace and lifted her clean off the ground, spinning her around like she weighed nothing at all.
"Put me down, you oversized fool!" Her voice cracked with indignation, but there was laughter underneath it. She swatted the back of my head hard enough to make my ears ring. "I'm not one of your training dummies!"
I set her down carefully, unable to stop the grin splitting my face. My cheeks actually ached from it—when was the last time I'd smiled like this? Really smiled, not the grim baring of teeth before battle, but genuine joy?
"You're going to crack my ribs," she muttered, smoothing her robes with exaggerated fussiness. But her eyes danced with warmth, and I caught the pleased quirk of her lips she tried to hide.
"Thank you," I said, and the words felt too small, too simple for what she'd given me. Not just permission—liberation. A key to unlock the cage I'd built around my own heart.
"Bah." She waved me off like I was a persistent gnat. "Stop standing there mooning at me like a lovesick tuskling. You have a mate to claim, don't you?"
I didn't need to be told twice.
Chapter 11
Jordan
I sat on my deck, watching the sun melt into the mountains as twilight crept across the sky. My laptop screen cast a pale glow over the job postings that had started to blur together—ER positions in Nashville, Atlanta, Birmingham, Chattanooga.
Chattanooga.
My cursor hovered over the listing. Erlanger. A top-tier emergency department with a reputation that preceded it. The pay was excellent, the benefits solid, and they were offering five shifts instead of seven. On paper, it was perfect. More than that—it was home. Or had been, once upon a time. I'd grown up there.
My aunt Gail still lived in the same house on Missionary Ridge where I'd spent awkward Sunday dinners after my parents died. I should call her and let her know I might be coming back. We'd make small talk, promise to meet for coffee, then let months slip by in comfortable silence. That's how it had always been with us, even after the accident. She'd tried her best, but grief sometimes had a way of building walls instead of bridges.
But Franklin. God, leaving Franklin felt wrong.
I pushed the laptop away and leaned back, letting the evening breeze wash over my face. Franklin was supposed to be a pit stop, just another temporary landing place in the path of mycareer. Instead, it had become more of a home than Chattanooga ever was, even with all my childhood memories there.
I'd miss my friends for one thing. The night they'd heard about my firing, they'd descended on my doorstep armed with cheesecake and wine. Kelsey had already spread the word about what happened with Ardin, but my friends knew me well enough to see past the official story.
"Okay, spill. What's really going on?" Sarah had demanded, pouring wine like she was preparing for a long night. We'd sprawled across my living room in our usual formation—me curled in the corner of the couch, Tori cross-legged on the floor, Kelsey claiming the armchair like a throne.
The wine loosened my tongue. Or maybe it was just the relief of being with people who really knew me, without judgment or expectation. Either way, the confession tumbled out before I could stop it.
"I think I fell for Ruka."
Silence. Then Kelsey's face split into the most insufferable grin I'd ever seen. "The Orc chief? Oh my God, Iknewit."
"You did not."
"Jordan. Please. The way you talk about him? You get this dreamy look every single time."