“We handled it well,” she corrected, squeezing his hand. “Together. You know, we make a pretty good team,” she said. He knew that she was giving him an opening to talk about their future, but a part of him worried that she would shoot him down.
Howler cleared his throat. “Well, that’s why I followed you out here,” he admitted. “I wanted a few private moments with you to discuss what comes next.”
“I thought that we already did that with the shifter council earlier,” she admitted.
“We did,” he breathed, “but that was about our packs and the shifter population in Baltimore. I want to talk about you and me,” he insisted. She looked pale, and he wanted to tell her that she had nothing to worry about, but what if he was reading her all wrong? What if she looked that way because she didn’t want to admit that she didn’t want a future with him?
“You want to cut to the chase and tell me what’s going through that thick head of yours?” Tempest asked. She pulled free from his arms, and he started pacing in front of her.
“Shit, I’m fucking this all up,” he breathed, reaching for her. She allowed him to pull her back against his body, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m trying to tell you that I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“You do?” she whispered.
“I do,” he admitted. “And that leads me to my next question. How about we get hitched?” he asked.
“You want to marry me?” she squeaked. She was adorably nervous, and he wasn’t sure why it turned him on, but it did.
“From the day that you walked into that old, abandoned sugar warehouse, I was sure that I had met my match. You’re more than just the woman I want to marry, honey, you’re my mate, and I think you feel the same way about me.” He held his breath waiting for her to agree with him, and when Tempest finally nodded her agreement, he let that breath out.
“I do feel the same way, Howler,” she admitted. “I love you too, and I’d love to marry you.” He picked her up and spun around the garage with her, loving the way that she giggled and shouted at him to put her down. He didn’t get to see this side of Tempest very often, but he hoped that now that the war was over, he’d see more of her this way.
“I love hearing you laugh,” he admitted, letting her slide down his body until her feet hit the ground.
“Well, you should get used to it because we have a lot to be happy about now,” she admitted. “I hope you don’t want a big wedding,” she said. “I’d be happy with just our packs attending and having it here at the clubhouse.”
“We can do whatever makes you happy, honey. I’d marry you in the men’s bathroom if that’s what you want.”
Tempest scrunched up her nose, making him laugh. “I’d prefer that we don’t tie the knot in the men’s room,” she said. “But I get what you’re saying. I’d also like to get married soon, if that’s okay with you.”
“How about in three days?” he asked. “I hear that’s all the time we need to allow for the marriage certificate. Wraith is ordained, and I’m sure that he’d love to perform the ceremony.”
She giggled, “I don’t see him as the kind of guy who performs marriage ceremonies,” she said. “But that sounds perfect. I’ll ask Chris to be my maid of honor.”
“That sounds about right,” he agreed. “I’ll have to ask another one of my men to stand in for me, since Wraith is going to marry us.”
“Well then,” she breathed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “It looks like I’m going to meet you back here in three days to become your wife.” Howler didn’t miss the way that his heartbeat sped up or how hearing her say the word ‘wife’ did crazy things to him. Tempest was going to be his wife, and he couldn’t wait. Three days weren’t going to go by fast enough.
Howler had faced gunfire, rival alphas, and a war that nearly tore his city and his pack apart. None of it made his palms sweat like standing in the middle of the DarkChaos clubhouse waiting for Tempest to walk toward him. The irony wasn’t lost on him.
The building itself was loud with both Dark Chaos and Silverfang Brotherhood in attendance. Their two clubs had become bonded in ways that neither he nor Tempest understood. The Dark Chaos clubhouse—an old converted dockside garage—had been transformed in a way that still felt rough around the edges but carried something heavier beneath it—victory, relief, and most importantly, family.
The war with the Capitol Wolves had ended three weeks ago. It had ended the only way wars like that ever did—with blood, and a lot of it. But Baltimore was theirs now. The Capitol Wolves’ grip on the city had been shattered; their alpha was no longer a problem. The mayor had fallen shortly after, and corruption was dragged screaming into the light by the combined efforts of both clubs. Silverfang and Dark Chaos hadn’t just survived. They’d taken the city back. And somewhere between planning attacks, protecting their people, and fighting side by side, Tempest had become something Howler never expected to find—his fated mate. She was his mate, his storm, and his equal in every way.
Music thumped from the far end of the clubhouse where bikes and crates had been shoved aside to make room for tables. Wolves from both clubs packed the room—laughing, drinking, and waiting for the ceremony to begin. Tonight wasn’t about war. It was about the woman walking toward him and the life that they were going to start together today. He wasn’t sure how he had gotten so fucking lucky, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Howler adjusted the collar of the black shirt someone had forced him to wear—Tempest’s idea of formal apparently didn’t include suits, and he was thankful for that. Leather cuts were still present with their patches proudly displayed.
His brothers lined the wall behind him with their Silverfang colors bright against their worn denim and leather. Across the room stood the women of Dark Chaos. They were fierce, loud, and very protective. And in the middle of them stood Tempest. Howler’s wolf lifted its head the moment she stepped forward. Mine. His wolf growled. The word rolled through his blood like thunder.
Tempest wasn’t dressed like a traditional bride, which surprised exactly no one. She wore black leather pants, boots polished to a dark shine, and a fitted crimson shirt beneath her Dark Chaos cut. Her hair was loose for once, wild waves falling over her shoulders like a dark storm cloud. She looked dangerous and powerful. God, she looked perfect the way that she was smiling at him. That was the part that nearly knocked the air out of Howler’s lungs. Tempest didn’t smile often—not in the soft way she was now. This smile was private and warm—just for him.
The room quieted as she crossed the floor. Her sisters walked behind her—Chris stood in as her maid of honor. Her chin lifted proudly as Tempest’s second in command. She stood by her Prez, no questions asked, in life and during her marriage vows.
Tempest stopped in front of Howler. She was close enough that he could feel her heat. His wolf caught the familiar scent of her wolf. “You look nervous,” she murmured under her breath.
Howler snorted. “I’ve fought a war, and that was easy.”
“And?” she challenged him.
