The Alpha rose slowly. Tesmee stood too, followed by everyone else in the room. No one knew what he'd do next—it was safer to be ready.
He walked straight to her, stopping just inches away. His face returned to normal, but his heartbeat was faint—too faint to hear.
He placed both hands on her arms and stared at her. She met his gaze in silence, unsure of his next move.
The silence felt steady—or so it seemed. Without warning, he glanced at his wrist and bit into it, fangs sinking deep. Blood now stained his teeth as he drove them into her neck.
Tesmee screamed, the sound raw and unfiltered, betraying her usual hardened nature. It was only a bite, but the tradition behind it—the purpose—made it unbearable.
When he finally let go, he turned away and sank into a nearby chair, drained. She held onto the edge of the table, unsteady, the effects of the ritual setting in fast. Her knees buckled, and within seconds, she collapsed to the ground.
Eric caught her before she hit the floor, though she was already unconscious. The elders and former leaders remained unnervingly calm, their silence heavy with understanding.
Eric turned to Tyric. "It's a rare kind of imprint," he said. "But it's the strongest."
He lifted Tesmee gently into his arms.
"She'll wake in a day," Steven added.
Tyric, looking pale, leaned back into the chair. "The council meeting is dismissed," he said, voice low and weak.