Chapter Thirty-Three

Of all manifestations of power, restraint impresses men most.

—Thucydides

 

THERE WAS A fierce growl, and Penn’s position was yanked from him as he was moved, faster than a blink, onto his back with a tremendous panting weight over him and an open mouth meeting his with their two tongues tangling. The weight pressed down. The evidence of his desires couldn’t be concealed as Penn pushed up into the weight above. Penn whimpered at the pressure, unable to control the jerk of his stone length or the responsive bucking up of his hips. Their mouths moved with desperation and wet heat as the weight over him repositioned, and a matching granite girth aligned and ground against his own with another demanding growl from above. Mouths moving, and Iver’s body rocked into Penn’s.

Iver tore his lips away and breathed out the growling word, “Mine,” as he seemed to war with his own Wolf.

“Yours,” Penn’s Wolf snarled back in confirmation.

Iver kissed him again, slower, less frenzied as their hips stilled. Penn still felt the matching arousal against him, the strong hand in his hair, and then Iver pulled back, moving his lower half away from Penn’s.

“I will respect tradition,” Iver panted, his voice strained, “as I will respect you.” He kissed Penn’s lips once and then moved back to his side of the bed, lying on his stomach and grumbling into his pillow.

“I agree,” Penn said reluctantly and appreciated the sleeping sensation that came over him more this time than the other times Iver had done this to him.

*

THE NEXT MORNING, Penn headed to the packhouse after gathering what he needed from the woods. He found it suspicious his search for the particular tree variety he’d been looking for had been far easier to find than he’d suspected it would be. Penn had imagined the days it would take for his search and was sure he’d heard a deep laugh just as his eyes landed on the tree. Shaking his head, Penn cast his rope up and climbed. The limb was perfect. Penn sawed it carefully from the tree and used ropes to lower it to the ground. Back on the ground, he carefully removed the small branches and hefted the limb onto his shoulder.

Pack members bowed their heads as he passed them. It was strange, but he understood why they did it. In their shoes, he’d have done the same to the intended mate of a Pillar. It was all still so bizarre. Penn carried his perfect maple limb into the woodworking shop and looked around for Conor.

“Conor,” Penn said quietly to not startle the carver as he worked.

Conor looked up, stopping his foot and the lathe he worked at. He bowed his head at Penn and then tilted it, acknowledging the limb on Penn’s shoulder.

“I was hoping you could help me,” Penn started.

“Yes,” Conor said and stood, holding out his hands for the heavy limb. “Mate gift?”

“For a god.” Penn groaned. “I was hoping for your help carving a bow.” Penn followed Conor as he moved to a worktable, laid the limb down, and flipped on lights over the workspace.

He ran his hands over it. “Where did you find this tree?”

Penn looked around and whispered, “I doubt it’s still there.”

Conor hummed, then pulled down a drawknife from the tool board and handed it to Penn. “Take the bark off carefully and let me go sketch some designs for you to consider.”

“Thank you, Conor,” Penn said, relieved Conor would help him with this.

While no one could really be angry with their Pillars for doing their jobs, it didn’t mean they would be elated to help make a gift for one either. Penn knew Conor could have refused.

Penn went to work, carefully drawing the knife beneath the bark and shaving it off in long strips. He rolled the limb and continued until it was completely bare. Penn ran his hands over the wood and was surprised at its already dried state. He looked up and whispered a quiet thanks to whoever was helping him with this.

“And you just cut it?” Conor whispered next to him in awe as he, too, ran his hand over the cured wood.

Penn and Conor shared a look that needed no words.

“Archer, Iver,” Conor said quietly, and Penn confirmed it as Conor laid out several sketches of old-style bows. “I can help you with carvings, but you’ll do most of the heavy work.”

“Yes,” Penn agreed. The mate gift wouldn’t mean as much if Conor did all the work. Penn had to do this himself so it would have meaning when he gave his answer that he would accept Iver as his mate. Once Iver touched this bow, he would feel the labor.

Labor and love, Wolf corrected.

Penn pointed to the one he liked best.

“Good choice; he’s strong,” Conor agreed. “He’ll need a bow that matches his strength.” He pulled down another tool and handed Penn the pencil with a smirk. “Start sketching.”

Penn went to work while Conor returned to his lathe. Penn was careful, tracing the outline of the bow onto the wood. It took him forever.

Conor walked over, inspected what he’d done, and handed him a curved chisel. “Cut away everything around the lines.” He motioned to the waste wood but left plenty of room for them to carve closer.

Penn spent the rest of the day carving away the wood until an odd-shaped chunk was left on the table. He cleaned up his workspace, taking the remnant wood and shavings to their pile and pouring them out. The pack used everything, and this would not go to waste either. When he returned, Conor was inspecting his work.

“Good,” Conor said. “Come back tomorrow, and we’ll carve it out.”

“Thank you,” Penn said and shook Conor’s hand.

“See you tomorrow.”

Penn returned to his new home, wondering how to keep a secret from his unusual mate.

“Impossible,” Penn decided aloud and grew anxious as he topped the hill to find Iver again waiting in the chair. Penn stood there for a moment as the frowning face turned happy when Iver looked up at him.

“What’s impossible?” Iver asked as he stood and walked to meet Penn.

“Keeping a secret from you. I’m making a return-mate gift for you, so can you not read my mind for a few days?”

Iver looked surprised. “That’s where you’ve been?”

Penn nodded and then umphed as the air was squeezed out of him by strong arms around him.

“You’re making a return-mate gift for me. This means you are accepting,” Iver said against him.

“Yes,” Penn choked out as his feet left the ground, and they were moving down the hill. “I thought it was obvious.”

“Yes, but no, the gift is undeniable,” Iver said with pride and hauled Penn into their home in his arms. “What is it?”

Penn closed his mouth and imagined running in the woods as Wolf as fast as they could and the joy it brought him. Iver laughed heartily, making Penn feel it against his own chest as Iver kissed his cheek.

“No, no, don’t tell me,” Iver agreed. “Such a fast runner.”

So fast, Wolf agreed.

Penn couldn’t contain his joy as he was flopped down onto their bed with a hulking weight over him, breathing hard.

“Mate,” Iver said, and his lips were on Penn’s for only a moment because Iver was still grinning too hard to kiss him.

“Yes.” Penn relished seeing that same joy reflected in Iver. “I am making it, and I’m not very good at it.”

Iver grew serious. “I accept it.”

“You haven’t even received it yet.”

“It doesn’t matter; I accept it,” Iver said with authority. “We need to meet with your historian to enter our intended mating, the acceptance of gifts into the record. Then arrange our ceremony.”

Penn’s eyes stung a bit; those were the next steps once mate gifts had been exchanged. “After I’m finished and can put it in your hand.”

“How long will it take?” Iver asked, unable to hide his excitement or impatience.

“A few days if it goes well,” Penn said and wiggled to get more comfortable beneath the weight over him.

Iver shifted them both up and settled between Penn’s legs but held his weight off him as he looked down at Penn. “I’m impatient,” he said as an apology.

“Then you can help me.” Penn held up a finger. “I need to know some of your favorite things.”

Iver frowned.

“You have to stay out of my mind,” Penn warned.

“Of course.” Iver thought for a moment. “I like nature, balance, goodness.”

Penn frowned, wondering how to carve those things. Iver’s eyes twinkled, and Penn glared.

“Stop that,” Penn said and pushed at Iver, but he couldn’t budge him.

“Acorn, leaf,” Iver started. “Easy things to carve.”

“Cheater,” Penn accused, and Iver kissed him as Penn tried to imagine swimming and hunting to block his thoughts from his mate. But Iver seemed to be clearly amused by Penn’s efforts to keep him out of his head and keep the so-called secret.

“Okay, no more. You’ve been gone forever. Tell me about your day.”

“I can’t.” Penn let out a long sigh as Iver rested his ear against Penn’s chest and listened to his heart.

Penn reached up, wanting his hands in Iver’s hair as Iver rolled them to the side to take his weight off Penn. He pulled him in close, and closed his eyes closed as Penn reached his other hand over and used both to gently unbraid Iver’s braid. With it undone, Penn ran his fingers over Iver’s scalp and listened to him breathing.

“I am happy you accept my gift,” Penn said. “Happy we will be mated.”

Iver nodded against his hand but said nothing, obviously enjoying the attention.