Chapter 19 - Jonah

"Are you nervous?" Jonah asked Moira, feeling his own nerves dance like a hot wire. "I am."

She wore a simple dress of white lace, and her hair was tied into an elaborate twist on top of her head, encircled by a delicate tiara of seashells. It was, he thought, maybe the best she'd ever looked.

"No," she answered, taking over the buttoning of his shirt when his fingers shook too much to work them. "We've done the work. The hard part is over. All that's left is to make it official."

It was the day of their mating ceremony and the day Jonah would be officially titled alpha. Moira had left the Rosewoods the previous week and taken her place among the Silversands, with tearful farewells from Vera and Adria. Since then, she'd been glowing.

He stepped back to inspect his reflection in the mirror. After weeks of work with both packs pitching in, the lighthouse had been restored to its former glory and then some. It was rustic and homey, filled with the aroma of Moira's baking and Jonah's cooking. She sat on the edge of their four-poster bed, feet dangling over the thick wool carpet that kept their toes warm on even the coldest nights.

Vera poked her head in from upstairs before descending. "Are you two decent?"

"For now," Moira said with a wicked grin for Jonah. "Are you finished up there?"

Adria and Evelyn followed behind Vera. Evelyn had started to warm to Jonah after their macabre discovery in her backyard and had even helped repair the lighthouse.

"Now, no peeking," Adria warned, wagging a finger at the two of them. "The nursery is perfect, but you have to wait until after the ceremony. I don't want you two distracted from each other."

Jonah nodded solemnly. The only thing that could distract him from Moira was their baby. She was showing now, at the stage where it became impossible to deny that she was anything but pregnant, and each time he looked at her rounded stomach, his heart swelled. He hadn't known it could contain so much love.

"Promise." Moira got to her feet and smoothed her dress down. "Is it time?"

Vera stood on tiptoes to look out the window. "I think so. Looks like everyone is out there. You two ready?"

Was he? Once he took on the mantle of alpha, there was no shedding it. He would not run as his father had. Whatever happened in Silversand happened with him at the helm and with Moira by his side.

He held out his arm for her to take, and she threaded hers through the space, instantly soothing his worries. Whatever he did, he did not have to do it alone, and he couldn't ask for a better companion than the one he'd found.

"We're ready," said Moira, holding his gaze.

They stepped out onto the sand. The Silversands gathered closer while the Rosewoods hung back, and in the shadow of the lighthouse, Jonah vowed to protect and guide the Silversand pack, to be its light in the storm and its captain through the waves. He looked around at the remnants of the once-thriving pack, fixing each and every wolf in his mind.

"I won't let any of you down," he said, dipping his head.

"We are bound to sea and sand." The elder intoned, pouring a thin vial of seawater over Jonah's head. Salt trickled into his eyes. "To sea and sand, we will return."

The oath of the Silversand pack was repeated by the circle of wolves. Jonah had always believed there was magic in those words, something stronger than just the sounds of them, and he felt it then binding them all together and to that place. The wind whipped the sand into a frenzy, and he saw the shape of his mother in its scattered grains. She'd never left that place. He closed his eyes tightly, and when he opened them again, the vision vanished, leaving him with only a sense of comfort and peace, of rightness.

On that day, he'd run away from home, fleeing with the only goal in mind to get far, far away from his father, he never could have imagined standing where he was now. Would he follow in his father's footsteps? Was it a family curse that dragged Silversand down? He recalled the soothsayers foretelling and how Jonah and Moira's bond was entwined with the fate of the pack.

He would drag Moira down with him if he could not escape his father's legacy. Jonah would never allow that to happen. He would never repeat his father's mistakes.

"We all have our fates, boy. They're the anchors tied around our necks." The soothsayer's voice so close to his ear made him jump, his rheumy eye fixed on Jonah's face. "And you can't wear somebody else's."

With that, the soothsayer departed.

Moira's touch on his elbow brought him back to the moment. With the alpha ceremony over, the Rosewoods joined the circle. Jonah took Moira's hand and led her to the center. It was the soothsayer who spoke their vows, who tied their hands together with a length of nautical rope, and dunked them both in the frigid sea. Lips shaking and blue, they kissed to the cheers of their gathered families.

"You know, in a Rosewood ceremony, we wouldn't get hypothermia," Moira said, teeth chattering.

He pulled her under his arm and gave her his body heat, as he'd give her everything. "You belong here. With me. With us."

"I do," she said, gazing up at him with eyes blue enough to sink in.

"Come on lovebirds, there's cake!" Vera called, waving them over.

She was already deep in the champagne, and she stumbled over a divot in the sand. Rami caught her, glasses sliding down his nose. Jonah expected Vera to yank her arm away, to push him off, but perhaps it was the alcohol that slowed her hand, or the affection in the air. Whatever it was, she let him steady her.

"Did you see that?" Jonah murmured to Moira while they walked to join the crowd. "She didn't bite him."

"That's practically a smile," Moira nodded at Vera's steely look.

Evelyn handed Jonah and Moira thick woolen blankets to wrap around themselves and a plate full of cake to share. "It's amazing, Moira. We are definitely adding this to every Silversand mating ceremony going forward. Not up for a vote. Sorry, Alpha."

Jonah accepted the new rule without complaint. After all, Moira's cake was amazing.

By the time the party died down and everyone but them had gone home, their clothes were dry, thanks to the campfire, and they were buzzing with something stronger than any champagne. Jonah led Moira in their home, their lighthouse.

Winter was nipping at fall's heels and the night was bitter. But inside, someone had fed the fire in the stove and the place was pleasantly warm.

"I can't believe this is real," she breathed, catching sight of herself in the mirror they'd propped against the wall.

In it, every perfect inch of her was reflected from head to toe. He joined her, coming up behind her to trace kisses along the salty skin of her neck. "This place?"

She twisted to catch his lips in a kiss. "Us."

He shivered at the word. His fingers worked the zipper down her back, impatient for the bare skin beneath.

Moira flushed and looked away when the dress pooled at her feet. How, he could never imagine. He couldn't take his eyes off of her.

"You're perfect," he said, over and over again, with every kiss that marked his path down her body.

When he reached her hip, he followed the curve of it to her front, kneeling before her. She caught her fingers in his air when his kiss trailed lower, between her legs. His tongue lapped at her, hungry for her. Jonah loved it when her grip tightened, and she started to writhe against him, desperate for more, when she forgot herself.

She bucked against his face and it was all he could do to hold on, to keep driving his tongue against her. He caught her when her legs trembled and threatened to give out, rising to kiss her. Her lips parted for him, eager for the taste of herself.

Her hands were on him, rubbing the swell of his cock over his pants. Precum soaked the fabric in a telltale splotch, widening as her fingers worked up and down his length. But he didn't want her fingers. Didn't want the fabric between them. He wanted her skin against his.

"Impatient today," she murmured, catching him when his hands went to his belt to remove it himself. "Maybe I want to make you wait."

He groaned and dropped his hands, twisting them in her hair to keep himself from doing more. But it wouldn't last for long. She teased him, dragging her finger slowly up his cock with the lightest pressure. Pressure coiled at the base of his spine.

"Moira," he groaned. "I can't wait. Don't make me wait."

But he caught the smirk on her face, the flush of power in her eyes. She was enjoying this, enjoying tormenting him. Her fingers worked the belt buckle open with painful slowness.

She slipped her hand inside his pants and now there was only one layer between them, between her nimble fingers and his aching cock. Her touch was bolder now, firmer, and she wrapped her hand over the top of his dick to stroke it . It was so hard the head of it pushed above the waistband of his briefs. When her thumb touched it, he growled.

"Take them off," she ordered, nodding at his pants. He leapt to obey, kicking them off so they slid across the floor and landed against the wall. "And those."

He shed his briefs and his cock sprang free. Still, she did not touch him.

"Stroke it for me," she demanded, perching on the edge of the bed with her legs crossed, denying him his view of what he wanted most. "Slowly."

He fisted his cock and stroked the length of it from base to tip with agonizing slowness. Moira's lips were flushed red with arousal, the peaks of her nipples begging for his mouth, but she lifted one foot to push him away when he tried to draw closer.

"No touching." But she spread her legs a little now and brought her fingers down to touch herself, her eyes fixed on his hand as he stroked faster.

He couldn't peel his eyes away from the scene between her legs. It should be his hand there. His body rebelled against the space between them and she was loving every second of it, every moment of his agony.

"Poor thing," she said, around her panting. She was close now. He could see it in the desperate way she touched herself. "But you're not allowed to cum. Not until you're inside of me."

Her words nearly pushed him over the edge and when she came, head thrown back to expose her pale, vulnerable throat, he had to bite his cheek to keep from following her.

"Please, Moira," he begged, a bead of precum dripping from the head of his cock. "I need you."

"Come show me how much," she breathed.

Jonah lunged for her. He couldn't be gentle, or slow, couldn't take his time. He needed her. She'd driven him mad and now she'd get what she wanted.

Jonah pushed her back onto the bed and freed his cock from his pants. He wasted no time lining himself up and pressing inside, all at once. She gripped him, tight and hot and wet and unbearably good. His hips moved of their own accord, thrusting into her with a force that slammed the bed against the wall and drew a moan from her lips.

He drove into her relentlessly, and she welcomed him. She urged him onward with her hands, mouth, and gasps. Begging for more with one breath than telling him it was too much with another. But it wasn't too much for her. She took all of him. When she came again, clenching around him, he was swift to follow.

Spent, he lay over her. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, too winded to speak, with damp strands of hair clinging to her face.

Something thumped upstairs. It was a distinct sound, too solid to brush off as a trick of the wind. Jonah leaped from the bed and pulled on his clothes. Moira followed, pulling her dress back over her head.

"Stay here," he said, climbing the stairs.

She followed. Upstairs, the lighthouse split in two, with the nursery on one half and an office on the other. It was lit periodically by the light above, spinning and illuminating the windows in turn. Jonah stepped into the dark nursery, scanning the shadows of the crib and the rocking chair.

Empty. He climbed the iron ladder to the next level, where the light housed. It was open to the elements with just a low railing between Jonah and the ocean far, far below. But the threat was closer. It detached itself from the wall beside the door and slammed into Jonah, knocking him backward into Moira. She kept her feet and skirted to the side as Jonah hit the ground with the other man on top of him.

Evans.

He kicked Evans in the stomach and sent him tumbling into the office. This time, he wasn't going to let him go. The rage Jonah had kept bridled reared its head, and he let it free and let it consume him. Evans was slumped against the metal housing the light, head to one side as if he'd cracked it on his way down. Blood seeped onto the ground.

Jonah yanked him to his feet, and the man sprang back to life, hands wrapping around Jonah's neck. He caught Evans by the wrists, tightening his grip until he felt bones creak beneath his fingers. Together, they fell against the railing.

Moira screamed and reached for him. Jonah cracked his head forward, slamming his brow into Evans's nose with a ferocity that made him see white. Evans lost his hold on Jonah's neck. He whipped backward, reeling, and the weight of his body tipped out, over the railing.

There was a weightless, eternal moment when Jonah could have reached out and caught him. When Evans's eyes widened with realization, blood streaming from his nose, Jonah almost grabbed him. But his family and pack would never be safe as long as Evans lived. He watched his half-brother, his life twisted by hatred and vengeance, slip soundlessly over the edge and fall into the sea.

Time moved forward, but Jonah stayed. He stared at the spot where Evans had disappeared beneath the waves until Moira drew him back from the edge and crushed him against herself. He didn't realize he was crying until he tasted salt on his lips.

"Is it over?" She asked, fingers twisted in his shirt as if she feared he, too, might vanish into the water. "Is it finally over?"

Jonah watched the light's glow search the sea again and again. It found nothing but the waves. He thought of the two lives lost to the sad tale his father had spun, of his mother's ghost and his half-brother's grudge, and the reverberations that had struck the pack.

His father had made his choice. And Jonah had made his. And they couldn't have been more different.