Unbound

Chapter 53

"Do you wish to be unbound?" The shaman, now enveloped in a thick robe that looked almost too heavy for his small frame, stood in front of Gabriel in the center of the space. There were more robed figures, ten of them, all standing on a wide chalked circle with their heads bowed. They had said nothing when we entered, hadn't acknowledged us at all. I wasn't even entirely sure whether they were breathing.

"Yes." Gabriel had kissed me deeply before stepping into the circle, whispering a fervent I love you into my ear. I hated that I couldn't be beside him, but the shaman had forbidden me and Victor from stepping foot into the circle until the process of the ritual was complete. We were lucky, he'd said, to even be allowed to remain in the room.

"For what purpose?"

Gabriel's eyes found mine over the shaman's head, a mixture of fear and calm behind them. "For us."

"Are you willing to accept the risk of injury or death that comes with undergoing this ritual?" He demanded, louder now.

Gabriel drew in a deep, steadying breath that I tried to mirror, but mine got caught in my throat. "I am."

"Then we will proceed." He turned to the small table beside him which held the bundle of herbs, a tall white tapered candle, and a black ceremonial dagger. He reached for the dagger first, then held out his hand. Gabriel stepped forward and placed his hand in the shaman's, palm up. I winced when he drew the blade across his skin, biting into his palm, but Gabriel didn't so much as flinch. Already at the sight of his blood pooling in his hand, I felt as though I was going to be sick. I gripped Victor's arm to steady myself.

The shaman replaced the dagger on the table and rolled the bundle of herbs in Gabriel's blood, coating it entirely. When he gestured to the floor, Gabriel eased himself to lay down flat on his back. He was surrounded by symbols and dried herbs and flowers, a few of which I recognized from Ephraim's books. He closed his eyes and folded his hands together on his chest. I'd have thought he was asleep if I couldn't see the tense muscles feathering across his jaw.

The ritual began with a moment of stillness, a collective inhale shared by each robed figure that seemed to balance the energies in the room. The shaman invoked the spirits of the forest, calling upon the ancient forces of nature to guide and bless the ritual. The air hummed with energy.

Lapsing into an ancient, foreign language, the shaman chanted incantations, each word bearing the weight of generations. As the ritual progressed, the atmosphere seemed to shift and time itself felt suspended. The space filled with an otherworldly glow, casting ethereal shadows behind participants. The shaman's movements became more fluid, guided by an invisible force, and his hands traced intricate patterns in the air. Each gesture held intention; every word carried meaning.

The shaman anointed Gabriel first with wave after wave of thick, acrid smoke that poured from the smoldering end of the bundle of herbs. Next, with droplets of a shimmering liquid that he flicked from a carved wooden bowl. I watched, still, in awe of what I was witnessing. Victor's eyes, too, were wide and locked on the proceedings before us.

What began as a soft undertone was quickly growing to drown out the chanting around the circle: Gabriel's wolf was growling, the sound tearing through the space viciously. I could tell that he was struggling to remain in place.

With a rhythmic string of final words, the shaman raised his arms and his voice reached a crescendo. The energy in the room peaked, crackling like a spark ready to ignite. In that moment, the whole forest held its breath. And then, with a soft exhale, the ritual reached its climax. A surge of energy ripped through the space, harsh as a gust of wind. Gabriel cried out in pain, arching his back up off the ground and frantically clawing at the earth.

The sounds of his anguish were too much for me. Tears already flooding down my cheeks, I pushed my way into the circle and dropped to my knees at his side. My hands hovered over him, stroking his hair, his brow, his chest. I didn't know where to touch him to take his pain away.

"Help him!" I shouted at the shaman, wildly looking around the circle to appeal to the participants.

"I've done my part," he said calmly. "Now he must do his."

Shaking, I turned my attention back to Gabriel. He couldn't think, couldn't control the pain that raked through his body and forced sharp cries from his mouth.

"Gabriel, listen to me," I said, taking his face in my hands. "Gabriel!"

It didn't register; he couldn't hear me for the sound of his own blood rushing and pounding in his ears. Desperate, I pushed myself to my feet. I stripped off my shirt, then my pants. I didn't care who else was in the room, my focus was on Gabriel's writhing figure before me. I grabbed the dagger from the table and knelt back down beside him. The sharp blade tore through his shirt easily, but his jeans took more effort. Finally, he was down to just his boxers. I crawled over the top of him and lowered myself to lay skin-to-skin, making sure that we had contact at as many points as possible. His was hot and slick with sweat.

"I'm with you," I promised. Once my full weight was on him, he stilled. His chest still heaved with labored breaths, but some of the tension in his muscles eased. His arms wrapped around me instinctively and he pressed my body against his own tightly.

"I'm here. I'm with you," I repeated. His arms kept squeezing tighter, pulling me closer. I was beginning to have trouble breathing.

"Gabriel, loosen your grip," I choked out. I put my hand on his bicep, tight and hard as it flexed against me. He didn't hear me—he was blind to everything but his own agony. As another rush of pain ripped through his body, he cried out and his arms tightened further. I tried to breathe, tried to keep myself from panicking. Touch was the only thing that was going to get him through to the other side.

"Shhh," I urged. I massaged the back of his neck with my free hand. "Be calm, it'll be over soon."

Another spasm, this one worse. Gabriel yelled loudly and I felt a crack, then a sharp pain on the side of my chest as one of my ribs snapped under the pressure of his arm. Fresh tears sprang to my eyes and I bit down on the inside of my cheek, hard, until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. But whatever pain I felt in that moment, he was feeling a hundred times over.

I let my head drop to his chest and buried my face in it. His heartbeat hammered against my forehead. Again and again and again, I whispered I love you. It was my own chant, my own ritual. I whispered it to him and to his wolf, whether or not either could hear me.

With one final cry, one final spasm, Gabriel fell silent beneath me. His arms loosened and his body went limp. I pressed my ear tighter to his chest, trying to find his heartbeat that had been so deafening only moments before.

"Please," I begged. "Please."

And then, suddenly, the whole world exploded.

It was as though the world had only ever been in black and white—I was seeing it in color now, for the first time. My mind burst with sounds and sensations and feelings that rushed in all at once, without warning. But somehow, without any effort on my part, it parsed through and made sense of each and every bit of it. My heart was overflowing, blood in my veins replaced with something far more electric.

Amidst all the cacophony, one voice came through the loudest.

Gabriel's.

"My mate."