— • —
Lina
Wedding planning became an adventure in cultural fusion that made me question my sanity daily. Turns out werewolves and humans had very different ideas about what constituted a proper ceremony.
“Why can’t we just bite each other under the full moon and call it done?” Knox asked for the tenth time, sprawled across our bed while I reviewed flower arrangements.
“Because my human friends would find that disturbing,” I explained patiently. “Also, I want cake.”
“We could have cake after the biting ceremony.”
“No.”
“But-”
“No, Knox. We’re having a real wedding. With flowers and music and clothes that stay on for the entire ceremony.”
He grumbled but pulled me against him, nuzzling into my neck where his mark still tingled sometimes. “Fine. But I’m not wearing a tie.”
“You’re wearing a tie.”
“Luna-”
“Tie.”
The pack wasn’t much better. Hunt cornered me in the coffee shop where I was trying to work out seating arrangements with Mika and Vivi.
“No, we cannot have a pack run as entertainment,” I told him.
“But it’s tradition!” He looked genuinely wounded. “The pack runs together to celebrate the Alpha’s mating. We’d shift back before the humans noticed.”
“Hunt, my seventy-year-old neighbor from Pine Valley is not going to appreciate a hundred wolves running past while she’s trying to eat wedding cake.”
“We could run quietly?”
“Tell you what,” I compromised, seeing his genuine disappointment. “Once the party’s really going and everyone’s had several drinks, you can organize a run. The humans will either think they’re hallucinating or be too drunk to care.”
His face lit up. “Really?”
“Really. But not during dinner.”
He practically bounced off, already planning routes that would minimize human heart attacks.
“Your pack is insane,” Mika said, not for the first time. “That one guy, Cole? He asked if I needed him to hunt my meal for the reception. Hunt! Like, with his bare hands!”
“He’s going through a rough time,” I defended weakly. Cole had been walking around like a kicked puppy since the trial, trying to make amends through increasingly weird gestures.
“He offered to build me a den,” Vivi added. “I don’t even know what that means, but it sounded very earnest.”
Sarah arrived a week before the wedding, taking one look at the organized chaos and immediately taking charge. My adoptive mother had raised me after my parents died, and she still had the ability to make me feel fifteen again with one raised eyebrow.
“Large dogs everywhere,” she muttered loudly as Noah walked past, making him trip over his own feet. “Very large. Well-behaved dogs.”
She looked directly at him and winked. Noah fled.
“Sarah,” I hissed. “You can’t-”
“Can’t what, dear? Notice that your fiancé’s family all have very similar features? Those seductive eyes must run in the family.” She patted my hand innocently. “Now, let’s discuss centerpieces.”
