Author's pov
Christina stepped forward, her eyes darkening as she looked between the Elder, who was holding that wicked-looking knife, and Marcel. When he had pressed it to Marcel's palm, he didn't do so much as flinch—it was like it didn't hurt, but she doubted that.
It wasn't the pain that scared her though; it was the knowledge that once this was done, they would be bound forever. She would be caged with no remedy. She was never a fan of blood oaths, and in this place, it seemed to be even more significant than normal.
Her eyes looked past Marcel to where her stepsisters were sitting. They were seated in the space reserved for the members of the Black Moon Pack, right up in the front row. Their expressions were full of so much sadness that she felt guilt weave through her heart.
If
