(Thomas POV)
Morning came too quickly.
Not because I had slept badly, when I slept at all, but because it still felt strange to force it when my body didn't need it. Honestly, it didn't feel like it needed much of anything lately. I had no interest in blood, and food tasted better than ever… but there was no driving hunger to eat, no matter how much energy I used during the day. This all sounded cool and convenient, and maybe one day I would appreciate it. But right now, all I felt was the undeniable fact that I was no longer human. Well… as human as I have been since coming to Forks anyway.
(Ba-dum!)
I raised my hand to my chest and laid it over my heart as I stared at the ceiling. Was I using the word weird too often?
I finally rolled out of bed and dressed in the clothes Edythe had set out for me…probably at Alice's urging. Dark slacks. A button-down ivory shirt. All the little trims and choices that made the outfit appropriate for yet another wedding.
When I stepped into the hall, Edythe was already there, barefoot, hair pinned back, dressed in a simple cream-colored dress that made her look like she'd stepped out of a painting.
She looked up and smiled.
"Good morning, husband," she said, voice warm.
I crossed the distance and kissed her. Soft. Slow. Familiar…the kind of familiar my life desperately needed right now.
Her hands slid to my chest, right over my heart, and she paused like she was listening for it.
"Still weird?" she asked quietly.
"Less," I lied.
Her mouth curved. She let it go, because she always did when pushing would make it worse, and instead she pressed her forehead against my chest.
"Today is going to be good," she said.
Just before noon, we drove to the place the Elders had agreed on after too many arguments and too many careful words: a rise just outside Quileute land. Close enough that the tribe could claim it in spirit, far enough that Edythe could stand there without crossing a line that would turn the day into a fight.
The ceremony would take place as the sun was at its peak and starting its descent. The timing was to allow the spirits to see the ceremony. I didn't ask anything more than if it was the time Leah wanted, and when she said it was, that's all Edythe and I cared about.
We parked near a spot where other vehicles were loosely clustered and walked the rest of the way.
Billy's chair was there near the edge of the clearing, Jacob standing at his shoulder.
Seth hovered nearby, restless and excited, like this was a holiday and a battle and the best day of his life all at once.
The fact that he wasn't standing with his packmates made me wonder if he was being pushed out because of this whole thing. I made a mental note to ask about it before we left after the ceremony.
The pack itself stood clustered around Sam, who was watching me with a look I had never seen from him before. He was sizing me up more than he ever had, and he looked a little… resentful, too. Again, I brushed it off as something to look into later.
About fifteen minutes later, Jacob pushed Billy into the clearing. Billy looked at Edythe and me. "It is almost time. Join me as we wait."
Edythe took my hand, and we moved to stand beside him. He motioned for me to stand to his right and Edythe to stand to his left, leaving the opening directly in front of him for Leah.
Moments later, at some subtle signal, a drum began to beat, and the pack started to sing in their native language. Then Leah appeared.
There was no uncertainty in her movements. Her expression was more serene than I had ever seen it outside of sleep. There was a peace about her that had never been there before. She gave the impression that she finally had everything she had ever wanted, no more anger, no more doubt about where she belonged, just a contentment that was unmatched.
Sue was with her, and for once, Sue didn't look like she was bracing for a war in her daughter's life; she looked like she was trying not to cry.
Leah wore ceremonial clothes that weren't the stereotyped version people imagined.
They were real. Practical. Beautiful.
Her hair was loose and floating gently in the wind, and her eyes were locked on Edythe and I as she moved to stand before Billy.
The singing died down, and Billy began the ceremony.
He looked between the three of us.
His gaze lingered on Edythe for a long beat…measuring, weighing, accepting.
Then he looked at Leah, and whatever passed between them was old and deep and unspoken.
Finally, he looked at me.
"Thomas Raizel," he said, voice carrying without needing to be loud. "You stand here under our sky and before our witnesses, not to become part of the tribe, but to speak a vow that will be remembered." His gaze held mine. "You take Leah Clearwater as your wife, and you do it without breaking the vow you already made to Edythe Raizel."
"I do," I said simply.
Billy studied me for a second, then nodded once.
"Edythe Raizel," he said. "You cannot step onto our land. But you stand on this ground with respect, and you stand here by Leah's will."
Edythe's chin lifted. "I do."
"And Leah," Billy continued, voice softening just slightly. "You choose this with open eyes, and a sure heart."
Leah's jaw set. "I do."
Billy lifted a strip of woven cloth from his lap…dark, strong, made by hands that understood some things should last generations, not be replaced constantly.
"Then we do it the old way," he said. "One vow becomes three."
He gestured us closer.
Leah stepped between Edythe and me, and Billy guided our hands together, mine, Leah's, Edythe's, stacked and interlaced until there was no clean division.
A single knot of skin and warmth and cool.
My heart beat once, slow…heavy, and I didn't hate it.
Billy spoke words in Quileute that I didn't fully understand, but I felt them anyway.
Not magic.
Not superstition.
Weight.
When he finished, he tugged the woven strip tight and tied it with practiced certainty.
"There," he said. "Now it's spoken."
Leah's mouth twitched. "Good."
Edythe leaned in, eyes bright. "Agreed."
I let out a breath that felt like it had been stuck in my ribs for weeks.
And then Leah turned her face up to me, and the imprint hummed like a living thing.
"This is real," she said, very quietly.
"I know," I answered.
She kissed me first.
Not hungry.
Not desperate.
Certain.
Then she turned and kissed Edythe.
Edythe's hands slid to Leah's waist with a tenderness that would've broken a weaker person's heart.
When Leah pulled back, Edythe looked at me, eyes dark with promise.
"Now," she murmured, "we start forever."
I nodded.
The first true leg of our honeymoon, if you disregard the stop at the house so Leah could change into something more comfortable to travel in, was the drive to the Seattle airport for a private flight to Quito, Ecuador. The flight lasted fourteen hours and was punctuated by random make-out sessions that tested all our resolve to save certain things for the first night in the rental house Edythe had selected.
Somewhere over the Pacific, about eight hours in, Leah fell asleep while leaning against me. Her fingers were still entangled with Edythe's, even asleep, she wanted contact with both of us.
Edythe watched her with an expression that didn't belong on a predator's face. Soft. Protective. Almost reverent.
"What?" I asked quietly, because she was staring like she was trying to memorize the moment.
Edythe's eyes flicked to mine, and her smile was small. "Nothing. Just… I like seeing her like this."
I glanced down at Leah's hair fanned across my shoulder, the steady warmth of her against my side. "Me too."
Edythe reached over and brushed her fingers over Leah's hand, careful not to wake her. Leah made a faint sound in her sleep, half sigh, half hum, and curled closer to me without opening her eyes.
We landed in Quito while it was still dark and moved immediately into a waiting vehicle that clearly had no problem going from paved roads to dirt roads to rutted earth.
By the time the rental came into view, another four hours had passed. The sun was up, and I was grateful for the window tint that allowed Edythe to stay inconspicuous. The driver parked under an awning while we gathered our few bags. He left with a tip big enough to make the four-hour drive back to civilization worth his time.
The air was hotter than anything Forks had ever prepared us for, and the surrounding forest smelled different from any woods back home…wilder, older, alive in a way that made my lungs want to keep breathing it in.
Edythe opened the door first, stepping inside like she owned the air itself. "Home…well, for a week anyway," she said lightly.
Leah walked in slowly, taking in the space, wood beams, wide windows, and the distant sound of water. "This is… a lot."
"It's private," Edythe replied. "Quiet. No expectations."
I set my backpack down and watched Leah's shoulders loosen by degrees, like her body understood safety before her mind was willing to admit it.
"It'll be a shame to go home in just a week," Leah said softly.
Edythe's whole presence shifted…predatory, amused, delighted…as she strolled toward Leah like she had all the time in the world.
"Oh no, my dear wife," Edythe purred. "You misunderstand. We're not going back in a week… that's just the minimum I'll tolerate before I even consider sharing you with the rest of the world."
Leah's eyes widened a fraction. "Edythe…"
"And if I'm feeling generous when this week ends," Edythe continued, sweet as poison, "we'll start exploring. Anywhere on this continent we want." Her smile sharpened. "I might even take you to meet a few… old friends of mine in the Amazon. Three women. You'll like them. We have certain things in common."
Then Edythe's gaze slid to me, dark with promise.
"Okay," she murmured, voice turning dangerously soft, "we can stop behaving now, right?"