Claimed by the Seven Alphas
"The day of the Sacred Stone bonding?"
"That day."
She was silent for a moment. "Four years."
"Four years." He ran the numbers through his mind, over fourteen hundred days, watching, recording, archiving every single day. He did not say it aloud.
She walked up to him, barefoot, a head shorter. She lifted her face, her grey-blue eyes meeting his, that ring of gold like dying embers in the morning light. She took his hand, lifted it from his knee, and turned it over to expose the webbing between thumb and forefinger. No callus there, only on the joint between his index and middle fingers. She rubbed her fingertip over that thin callus; his fingers curled briefly, then straightened.
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