Page 31 of Return to the Pack

“Would that official person be Elder Amexaryl?” Her nose wrinkles up.

“Are you okay with that? Because, if you’re not….” I start, intending to let her know I’ll grant her any wish, even if I have to travel far to find the right officiate.

She holds out her palm. “We can use her. We made peace at the ritual with the pack. I understand now that it wasn’t her intention to harm me in any way. She was merely performing her role within the pack.”

Newfound wisdom and radiance emanate from Luna and, as I regard her, I feel myself falling deeper in love with her, as I do each day. “Are you sure?” I ask, reaching for her hand.

“I’m positive.” She takes my hand and laces her fingers in mine.

“I think you might be right about one thing. There might be pushback from the pack,” Ethan says before glugging down some beer.

“Tough shit,” Warrick says. “When have we ever given a shit about gossip? We rule the pack. We can do whatever we want.”

“Especially you,” Callan says to his brother.

Warrick nods his shaggy head. “I’d just as soon pick my teeth with the bones of the gossipers than let them spoil my mood about a decision made in the privacy of our own home. If our baby girl wants her pussy pounded by four rough bikers every night, that’s her business and our business and no one else’s.”

Though I’m not as rough as these outlaws and wouldn’t phrase it quite that way myself, the sentiment he just tossed out into the room feels right. As I sit in this kitchen, cramped with the triplets and Luna, I can’t help but settle comfortably into the rightness of the five of us together. I never in a million years thought I’d share my mate with three other men. Hell, less than six months ago, I never even thought I’d have a mate, and I sure as fuck wouldn’t have let these assholes touch her.

But if Luna wants to marry us all, I’m not going to stand in her way. The only thing I care about is being with her, now and forever. No one’s going to snatch her away from me—not these rebels, and not any roving, mutant lone wolves. We’re bound together as mates, and soon we’ll be bound by marriage. If she’s bound to three other men, that doesn’t make our connection any less real. If that’s what makes her happy, I’ll buy their fucking rings myself.

Anything for my Luna.

Chapter Twelve

Luna

Five people living in a house meant for two men is tight. Even before I moved in, Callan and Ethan had to take turns using their room or a mattress on the floor. We all feel crowded, and at times it gets to us, no matter how much we love each other. We each have to wait our turn to use the bathroom.

I like to take a bath, sometimes by myself. But my four men also need showers, and there’s never enough hot water to go around. Just last night, Warrick came in from the garage. He’d been working on his motorcycle, so he got to use the shower as soon as I was done with my bath. Axel said that he should get the shower before Warrick since he’s the Alpha.

That didn’t go down well with Warrick.

When things like that come up, tempers flare. I make sure to ease the tension in bed with plenty of pleasure for all, but I can’t help thinking Callan’s right. We need a bigger house if we’re going to be adding more people to it, even tiny people.

On the bright side, the closeness has brought us, well, closer. We don’t just fuck anymore. Axel says what we do is called “making love.” All I know is that it’s a rich experience I have no words for. I don’t care what it’s called—mating or fucking or making love. It’s all amazing.

This morning I woke up surrounded by three big bodies, some of them snoring. Warrick always exits to his own room, saying he needs room to spread out.

I can’t help but smile—I love these guys. And today, Axel and I will see Elder Amexaryl set the marriage ritual, whatever that entails, in play.

I extricate myself from the pile and head to the kitchen to make breakfast.

After breakfast and cleanup, Axel and I make our way to his truck, hand in hand. He seems especially happy as he opens the passenger door for me.

“You’ve got a bright smile on your face today,” I say, hopping into the cab.

He leans forward and kisses me. When he withdraws, he says, “How can I not be with you by my side?”

Then, he closes the door and rounds the bumper to his side of the truck. We travel in the truck to find Elder Amexaryl’s place. It’s situated as deep in the swamp as I used to live, though it’s outside Bogbeast Waters and still in wolf territory. It’s in an isolated and remote region, with only the alligators for companionship.

Axel parks the truck in a clearing surrounded by Tupelo trees. Some of the leggy trees rest in swamp water. Lily pads and bright green duck grass float in the water. The watchful, unblinking eyes of a couple of alligators track our movement. We pick our way through the bog to find a house on stilts with a deck right at the edge of the swamp water.

Elder Amexaryl sits outside with her slender legs dangling in the water. When she sees us, she climbs to her feet with the grace of an antelope, surprisingly agile for one so old. Her colorful dress settles around her ankles, and she waves, calling, “Go around to the back of the house. I’ll meet you there.”

We nod and head to the door facing the forest. Painted gourds and plants in terra cotta pots line the wooden walkway to her house. Lizards skitter out of the way, disturbed from their late morning slumber. At the front door, creepy-looking gray sculpted creatures hang menacingly from the corners. Water drips down their sides like they’ve taken a dip in the swamp.

“Those are my gargoyles,” Axel says when I shudder. “They scare off evil and channel rainwater out of their open mouths.”