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I forego the collar as I get dressed for the wedding, opting instead for a black button-up and jeans. They’re the nicest clothes I own, salvaged from the city before the other rebels forced all the lycan out of Austin. My mirror is so small that I can’t quite see how I look, but I trim my beard and brush my hair back, ensuring that I at least look somewhat decent.
I wish I could give my niece everything and more on her wedding day.
This will just have to do.
Once I leave my room, I follow the sound of music out of the den and up toward the chapel. The pure, unfiltered notes of Mateo’s guitar resonate into my chest, playing something as soothing as a lullaby. The new moon means there isn’t much natural light when I emerge, but the stars are brilliant overhead, the lack of pollution or celestial curtain giving us a full view of the milky way.
It’s like someone cracked open heaven and stars started pouring out.
I stare up at it for a moment as I listen to Mateo play, the scent of wildflowers all around me and soft voices and laughter up ahead. Then I smell something else: blackberries and leather. I know it’s her before she’s said a single word, her attention on me enough to get my wolf all riled up.
“Hey, stranger.”
I look down to find Tilda standing in front of me, a sly smile on her face. She’s wearing an ankle-length green dress that complements her eyes, her hair down in long waves around her shoulders, a touch of golden eye shadow across her lids. Peaches appears to have helped her get gussied up, because this doesn’t really seem likeTilda; I get the impression she’s much more of a rough and tumble, riding the range kind of girl.
I like that about her, yeah. But this…?
She looks fucking gorgeous, and I would have to be blind to deny that.
“Lookin’ good,” she purrs, her mouth twisting in a smile. She has to know what she does to me. Ever since we kissed, I’m on pins and needles around her. “Did you make yourself pretty for me, or…?”
“Of course,” I tell her with a grin. “All for you.”
“I’m flattered,” she says. “You going to sit down?”
She’s coming onto me; that much is obvious. But I can’t let her tempt me, not when I’m so close to getting her out of this den and away from me for good. “I’m part of the wedding,” I murmur.
“Okay,” she says. “I’ll see you later, then.”
She turns and walks away, her dress swishing behind her. I think Peaches makes her own clothes when she can get her hands on some fabric; I wonder if she made this specificallyforTilda. The dress fits her like a glove, criss-crossed in the back and trailing behind her.
She’s gorgeous.
I’m not going to be able to resist her if she’s making an effort to seduce me now.
Maybe I shouldn’t even try.
Peaches walks to the front of the room and Elijah joins her behind the music stand, flowers all around them. Elijah is dressed in something simple: just jeans and a white short-sleeved button-up, his blond hair tidier than usual and his chin neatly shaved.
It’s time.
Peaches nods her head at me and I go to get my niece.
Charlotte is waiting anxiously at the entrance to the den, her fingers gripped in her skirts. I don’t know where she found the dress, but it suits her—a white lace, long-sleeved dress with tiny buttons running up the back. Her hair is in soft waves around her face, her brown eyes sparkling with anticipation.
“Hi,” she whispers.
“Hi,” I say. “You ready?”
She lets out a laugh, blushing bright red. “Ugh…I don’t know why I’m nervous. It’s not like I’m not sure. IknowI want him and no one else.”
“It’s normal to be nervous—as normal as any of this can be,” I chuckle. “For what it’s worth, he looks just as freaked out.”
“He does?” she says. “Why?”
“Because this means something,” I say. “I know you don’t necessarily believe in God, but…”
“No, I do,” she says. “I think that He was the one who brought Elijah and I together, whether Elijah is with me on that or not.” She squeezes my hand. “I think I’m ready now.”
