Nesta considered. Then pulled something out of her pocket. A small biscuit, swiped from a tray in the birthing room. “Then here. Food. From me to you, my mate. That’s the official ritual, isn’t it? The sharing of food from one mate to the other?” He choked. “These are my two options? A frilly mating ceremony or a stale biscuit?” Her face filled with such true light, it nearly stole the breath from him. “Yes.”
