"Mel. There's more."
She stops talking.
"More what."
"I can't pull out yet."
She blinks.
"I'm—" I close my eye. Open it. "We're locked together. My body. It's—"
"You're stuck."
"Yes."
"Inside me."
"Yes."
"Like. Stuck stuck."
"Yes, Mel."
She is quiet for a long moment.
"For how long."
"A few hours."
"A few HOURS?"
"Mel—"
"A FEW HOURS, Keer? You're telling me your body has decided we are now a SET? For HOURS? Your body just—it just—decided that without consulting either of us?"
"It's connected."
"Oh I know it's connected, Keer, I can feel exactly how connected we are right now, that part is crystal clear, you don't have to sell me on the connection—"
"Mel. Connected to the bite."
"Oh."
She goes very still.
"Explain."
I take a breath.
"Wolves don't do this anymore. It's old. Old as the species. When a wolf claims a mate—when the wolf, not the man—it bites. Breaks skin. Takes blood. The body locks. It's how the bond seals."
"Bond."
"Mate bond."
"Mate."
"Mate."
