The silence after the declaration was louder than any applause.
Hunter hadn’t looked away once, not from her face, not from the stunned crowd, not even from Marissa’s horrified gasp. He said it clearly, deliberately: “Celeste Rivers is my true mate.”
And in that moment, every lie, every staged fight, every ridiculous passive-aggressive plate of overcooked steak they’d suffered through meant something.
But now, walking back to the packhouse in awkward, stilted silence, Celeste wasn’t entirely sure what.
“You really had to say it in front of everyone?” she asked, eyes fixed ahead.
“I thought it was romantic,” Hunter muttered.
She snorted. “You also thought wearing that open-collared shirt to the council would ‘keep things breezy.’ We both make mistakes.”
He paused, lips twitching. “Yo
