Page 121 of Pistols & Peonies

I didn’t want a mate. Didn’t have space for one. Didn’t need the complication, the liability… and somehow, that wasn’t even the worst part of being forced into the Pairing. The worst part was the way it felt as though I was stealing something from her. A future she hadn’t chosen; a life she hadn’t agreed to.

My grip tightens on the steering wheel as the memories of that night pummel my brain. I force it to ease, dragging myself back to the present.

Because now…

Now, everything’s different. Violet’s right beside me, not because Alpha willed it, but because we chose it. The bond may have yanked us together on a biological level, but everything else– working through our animosity, finding common ground, falling in love– that was all us.

I turn my head, glancing over at Violet. She’s tense, eyes fixed on the entrance to the preserve like she’s gearing up for a fight she already survived once, her knee still bouncing anxiously. My brilliant, beautiful mate, ready to storm into battle.

Mine.

Not because Alpha said so. Not because of a syringe or a ceremony or a fucking audience, but because somewhere along the way, we stopped fighting it and chose each other.

I thought Violet Slayter would be my ruin. Turns out, she’s my redemption.

I reach over without thinking, settling my hand on her thigh. The bouncing stops instantly. Her head snaps toward me, bright blue eyes locking onto mine, and her expression softens, the tension in her body slackening as if I’ve just pulled her out of a mental spiral by touch alone.

“Are you ready?” I ask quietly, holding her gaze, “or do you need a minute?”

She drags in a slow breath, steeling herself. “I’m ready.”

I nod once, then reach for my seatbelt, unbuckling and pushing the door open.

The cool night air hits my face as I step out of the SUV, circling around to the front just as she does the same. We fall into step beside each other without thought, moving toward the preserve entrance like we’ve done this a hundred times before.

Technically, I suppose we have. Every full moon since our wolves manifested, we’ve shown up at our assigned preserves for the run. But never together.

I take her hand, and her fingers curl into the side of my palm automatically as she flicks me a side-eyed glance– warm at first, then rapidly cooling.

“Oh, right,” she mutters, voice edged with sarcasm. “Gotta put on a show.”

“This isn’t for them,” I murmur, giving her hand a squeeze.

A blush creeps onto her cheeks, lips curling at the corners. She quickly looks away to hide it, refocusing on the path ahead, but warmth blooms in my chest all the same.

That look on her never gets old.

The entrance to the preserve is already crowded with bodies, clusters of pack members gathered and watching as we approach. I can feel the shift in attention like a current, eyes tracking us with a mix of admiration, curiosity, and envy.

We’re a spectacle now; Alpha’s favorite Pairing success story. It’s easier to lean into his narrative at this point than to fight it– especially since the alternative would require me pretending I don’t want her, and that’s not something I’m even remotely capable of anymore. Violet’s not just my mate, she’s fucking everything.

I’m calmer walking into this than I’ve been in a long time. More centered, like something in me has finally settled into place. Violet’s still wild as ever, but that energy seems to have shifted lately into something more focused than self-destructive. Together, we’re a force– and from the way the pack is looking at us, they feel it, too.

As we step up onto the curb, a familiar figure pushes through the crowd, Ella Slayter emerging to greet us with over-the-top enthusiasm.

“Commander Kane,” she says warmly, dipping her chin in deference before her attention shifts to her daughter. “Violet, I see you haven’t scared him off yet.”

Violet makes a small, unimpressed sound under her breath, but I just squeeze her hand tighter, pulling her in closer to my side.

“She couldn’t if she tried,” I reply easily, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple.

Ella makes a scoffing sound in her throat, eyes raking over Violet’s attire with obvious disapproval. “I see you’re still letting her dress herself,” she remarks, gaze flicking up to mine.

I hold her stare. “She looks perfect.”

“Well,” Ella huffs, posture stiffening, “maybe for a night out at some dive bar, but for a full moon run, standing in front of the pack as an officer’s mate? I’d expect a little more–”

“I love your daughter exactly as she is,” I cut in, forcing my voice to remain level despite my mounting agitation. “It’s a shame her own flesh and blood can’t do the same.”