“You can patch me up now,” he said curtly, “or you can mop the floor later. Your choice.”

I flushed. “I’m not… I’m only in training, sir.”

He shrugged, which couldn’t be good for his wound. “I’m not.”

“What…what do you mean?”

“I’m not training to fix bodies. The opposite, actually. Which means that I don’t have the faintest clue where to start. No matter what, you’ll do a better job than me.”

“But I⁠—”

“Miss.” He bent forward, eyes leveling with mine. “I don’t give a fuck. I have hours and hours of work ahead of me. As long as I’m not bleeding, it’ll be fine.”

Before I could protest any more, he sat on the chair closest to me. I got to work, terrified to make a mistake. Gabriel didn’t smile, nor did he pay much attention to me; he activated a holo and studied the map that emerged, something that looked like the outside of the stronghold during a Low. I could tell that the cut had been made by an animal, probably by a tooth or a claw, and it was far too deep and irregular to repair with collagen. Manual stitches were necessary, which I’d practiced only a couple of times before.

Unsurprising that I accidentally jabbed the inside of his wound. “I’m so sorry,” I gasped.

“Don’t care,” he muttered distractedly.

“If it hurts, I can⁠—”

“You could stab your needle into my flesh with all your might, and it would not hurt a tenth as much as the walrus.” As statements went, it wasn’t very reassuring. Still, I told myself to take a deep breath, calmed down, and resumed the process.

“Were you on the outside?” I asked, mostly to get my mind off how badly I could mess up.

“Obviously,” he said.

“Did you see the kelp forest?”

His eyebrow, light as his hair, rose. “It’s impossible to miss.”

“Was it beautiful?”

“I don’t know. It was there.” His expression was quizzical. After a moment, he added, “I’ve never thought about it that way.”

“How so?”

“The outside, it can kill you.” He looked at me. My skinny arms. My hyperfocused frown. “It will kill you, if you go alone.”

“I have been outside only once. But I was too young to remember.” I bit into my lower lip. “My father is an engineer, and during the Lows, he has to work, which means no one else can take me. And those expeditions, the safe ones with the tour guides, they’re so expensive. My father is saving for them, but he doesn’t have the credits yet. He said that he can work for the rest of his life, but he still won’t have half the credit that a lord in the Great Houses wastes in a single day.” I halted, realizing that I had no idea what this man thought about nobles or income gaps, wondering if I was in trouble.

“Your father is right,” Gabriel said, voice low. Calm. “But it won’t be forever.”

I felt like I was being promised something. After that, we were silent. I finished stitching him up, and he took off without even thanking me, but while I was washing my equipment, someone left enough credits on the table for me to join one of the outside expeditions.

This was years ago. And today, for the first time in over a decade, we are again together in the same room.

Chapter 6

THE MATING Sofia

I don’t consider myself a romantic, but mating ceremonies have always held a special charm to me. It’s not about the dresses, or the banquets, or the pretty decorations. What truly warms my heart is the sense of community and cheerfulness that comes from two people and their families joining lives in pursuit of something greater.

Perhaps what I feel for Lennart is not the kind of love usually shared by mates, let alone the bond that exists between an Alpha and their Omega. Still, I hoped that our mating would be a moment for celebration.

The general’s unexpected presence, however, makes it unlikely.

As Lady Larsen escorts me toward the center of the room, where Lennart waits with a small, joyful smile, I try not to look in the general’s direction. I try, but I cannot help peeking, and I’m suddenly grateful for the veil that shrouds my face.

At least the general has the grace to stand on the dais, outside the familial circle, but he brought too many soldiers for such a harmless occasion. They’re all wearing their thin Kevlar in military blue, attire more appropriate for a battleground than a mating ceremony. The Larsens, needless to say, don’t seem very at ease.

His right hand, Ivar, remains close. I know they are brothers, but while they are both tall, that’s where the similarities end. Ivar’s hair is dark and curly. His skin has a natural earthy glow, lips faintly curved upward in amusement. The general’s mask covers his expression, but given the frown lines between his eyes, I doubt it hides a smile.

Gabriel is, first and foremost, a warrior. Someone whose body was honed over decades of fighting to survive and to save others. Ivar is a scholar, leaner and softer. The brawn and the brains, that’s what people call the two brothers. I wonder if Ivar would be able to defend himself in a fight. I wonder if Gabriel is foolish enough to start something in a room full of Larsen soldiers. I wonder why the hell they’re here.

What do they want?

“You are so beautiful,” Lennart whispers, shaking me out of my thoughts.

I resist the impulse to tell him that, given my veil, he can’t know what I look like. But maybe he can see through the gossamer fabric. Maybe what he likes are the dark blond waves of my hair and the way they drape over my shoulders and down my back. Maybe it’s the shape-hugging bodice of the dress. It doesn’t matter why—it’s a compliment, and I should be glad for it. Lennart is kind. And patient. And handsome, too. Maybe not in the same way as the general, but still. And it’s okay if he’s not a fighter, because he’s a fine healer, which is much more important. At the very least, I owe him my unfettered attention. “Thank you,” I say.

I wonder if he’s as confused as me by the general’s presence, or intimidated. If so, no one would be able to tell, and I’m proud of him for that. He has eyes only for me as he lowers himself to his knees, signaling the start of the ritual. When he takes my hand in his, I order myself to forget about the people around us.

This is the beginning of the rest of our lives, and I should savor it.

I’m gaining a family—with some questionable members, but still.

I will be safe and taken care of for as long as I live.

I might even be able, through House Larsen’s connections, to one day raise my own children, and to gain the financial resources to help make change in the stronghold.

I will be okay.

So I smile and close my fingers around Lennart’s.

The rest of the service goes by quickly. This specific ceremony is a relatively new development. It requires little of us except standing and listening to the officiant. The real mating will happen afterward, at night, with the consummation—and, only in Alpha-Omega pairings, with the Alpha leaving a bite mark on the Omega’s neck. Before, it all used to happen in front of an audience, during the ceremony. In families that decide to embrace the tradition, it still does, and I’m relieved that House Larsen is too aristocratic for that, because it worries me.

Sex.

Tonight.

After.

I’m already worried about whether my lack of proper Omega status is going to create any issues in our sexual life. Can I even become aroused? Is Lennart going to hate me if I can’t? Am I going to hurt? When I’ve been alone, when I’ve asked my body to please help me out and feel something, it hasn’t exactly been cooperative. The idea of Lennart and me figuring out the ins and outs of sexual intercourse in front of the general’s icily furious eyes is not exactly⁠—

“Go with your mate,” the officiant says. “The All-father has blessed this union. May it be as fruitful as it is joyous.”