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“Shit, no thank you, please,” Mercer said.
“No, wait, I’d like to hear them,” Rhomi said.
“Damn it.”
* * *
The following night, they performed the second part of the ritual. Since Mercer had already marked Rhomi, he wouldn’t mark her a second time but would symbolically bite her neck while they made love and then they’d be officially mated in the eyes of the pride.
He took her to the greenhouse at the far corner of the lion’s private area, which was a glass enclosure the size of a big shed that held the plants that were important to the pride. Inside the door, he took a wicker basket off a hook and handed it to Rhomi.
“This is awesome,” she said, looking around.
“It’s a group effort to tend the greenhouse, but Caesar handles most of the plant care. Now first, we’re going to cut flowers for you and weave them into bracelets.” At the back of the greenhouse was a table with rows of lilies.
He cut the lilies and handed them to her. “These are impala lilies, native to Africa. The number of flowers relates to the members of our immediate family. I only have a biological mother, so there’s one flower for me and two for your parents, so we need three blooms for each bracelet.”
Then they harvested prickly pear. Once they’d finished in the greenhouse, they returned to the house and he showed her how to peel the outer skin of the prickly pear and prepare it for the ceremony. While it cooled in the fridge, he showed her how to braid the lilies into bracelets.
When the time drew near, they took the pear and bracelets to the paddock once more, wearing the same clothing as the night before.
“I’m really glad we’re doing this,” she said once they’d reached the paddock.
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” she said, climbing onto his back. He hooked his arms under her knees. She carried the bracelets in one hand, with the prickly pear’s container tucked under her arm. “It’s making me feel closer to you and the pride.”
“Good, that’s part of what the ritual is for. It’s also for the pride to approve of our mating and share in our happiness.”
He set her on the blanket next to the bonfire. They knelt in front of the fire and faced each other. The pride was there, Caesar presiding over the ceremony.
Caesar took the bracelets from the container and held them up.
“The impala lilies come from Africa, the place of our shifter ancestors. Some of us will never go there, spending the entire span of our lives in places like this—veiled in secrecy from humans. It’s important that we hold tight to the traditions so that we never forget what we are or where we came from. The fierce beasts that prowled in the darkest nights cherished their mates above all else. It is because of these fierce protective instincts that our beasts must mark our mates, a visible claim that not only permanently imprints the male’s scent on his mate, but also scars the skin.
“Rhomi, do you accept your place at Mercer’s side as his beloved mate? Do you welcome the marking that his beast will give to you tonight, knowing in your heart that this is the first night of the rest of your mated life?”
As he’d told her to do, she lifted her hands to his alpha and said, “I accept Mercer, his beast, and his marks.”
Caesar settled the bracelets on her wrists, and she pushed them up past her elbows, trailing the lilies’ essence on her skin.
Mercer lifted the bowl of sweet prickly pear, which they’d cut into bite-sized pieces.
“Mercer,” Caesar said, “do you swear yourself and your lion to Rhomi? Do you promise to be with only her for as long as your heart beats? Do you promise to make her life as sweet as the prickly pear fruit, as lovely as the lilies, and to protect her with claw and fang as long as you live?”
“I swear,” Mercer said, feeding a bite of prickly pear to Rhomi. They took turns feeding the fruit to each other until it was gone. The pride drew close and growled as a group, the sound growing louder.
“I welcome you, Rhomi, to the pride, and I declare this night that when Mercer has marked and mated you, you will be as a lioness in the pride, honored and adored. The pride will stand with you and for you against any who would harm you. May the cubs you bear grow up to be as strong and fierce as their parents.”
The lions all roared in approval and Rhomi gave him the sweetest smile, her eyes dancing with happiness. The pride walked by them, each dropping a lily on the ground next to the blanket as a token of blessing for the mating. In minutes they were alone.
He turned her around until she faced away from him, sweeping her hair off her shoulder and exposing her neck. “I have a surprise for you,” he said huskily.
“Oh?” she asked, shivering.
“There’s a tent a few feet away.”
She tilted her head. “I don’t see it.”
