Heron Lake Plateau when the night is done, you’ll vanish in the sun

When next she spoke, the words that fell from those black-lined lips made Raven's heart stop.

I love you.

She suddenly recalled that moment at the lake, Raven ministering to her heat exhaustion whilst Ceara sobbed and shook. Was she the reason for the Blackthorn's sorrow? She thought of all the work Ceara had done, how far above and beyond the call of duty she had gone to prove herself to her alphas and stand out in her pack. She thought of Ceara's gardens. Suddenly all of that took on a different significance. Had Ceara done all of that for Raven? To catch her eye, make her notice her? Had Ceara been in love with her all this time while Raven went on with her life, totally oblivious? She felt such a deep, sinking sense of horror and sadness creep into her at that thought. It was just so cruel, so unfair.

Sharp, painful pressure in her chest brought her back to the present as she realized she wasn't breathing. She took a deep breath as Ceara apologized and stammered that she knew it was inappropriate. Raven turned her gold eyes up to the Blackthorn's face and, with a minute shake of her head, said in a voice barely above a whisper, "No it's not."

For love was not something that should ever be apologized for. It was not something that should be a source of shame or embarrassment. It was this that Raven upheld above all: love was beautiful, transformative, pure. In it was the power to tear down mountains and boil seas, to burn away everything else in the cleansing fire of its passion. To create life from nothing.

While it might have been inconvenient at times, love was never inappropriate.