Page 45 of Sacrifice

“Not one day,” I interrupt. “What about tonight?”

Oberon frowns. “But…but what about you?”

“What about me?” I shrug. “If I’m with the pack, I’m with you—a marriage doesn’t matter so long as we’re publicly pack bonded with a bite. But marriage…I don’t know, man. I don’t want to take that away from Gunnar. The way he talks about her…”

It reminds me that Gunnar isn’t just an ally, not just a packmate…and not just a lover. Before all of that, he was my friend—and I know how much he loves Aisling.

“She should be his,” I finish. “I truly believe that.”

Oberon’s brow furrows, his fingers curling on his knees. I can tell it’s hard for him—hard for any of us to think she belongs to any one of us more than the other. I was more worried about asking the pack than asking Gunnar, who I’m sure will say yes…

…but he surprises me by nodding.

“They have something special,” Oberon says. “She had his bite first—and he did so much to get her safe from the Eclipse from the beginning. When I was losing my mind…he was protecting her. He’s earned this. So…yeah, I guess. I don’t think I’d mind throwing a wedding tonight.”

Before we can say another word, the door to the bedroom creaks open and Luka saunters out, the waistband of his sweats hanging low on his hips. I can’t help the smirk that plays across my lips as my gaze skims over his broad shoulders and the cut lines at his abdomen. For a moment, I indulge in the sight before me; it’s not every day you see a walking temptation like Luka Petrov looking so disheveled and yet utterly unbothered by it.

If nothing else, I’ll never be lacking for eye candy in this pack.

“Got a minute?” I call out, raising an eyebrow at him.

He stops, his frown deepening, green eyes curious. “For what?”

“Your blessing,” I say with a casual tilt of my head. My heart thuds a wild rhythm against my ribs at the prospect of what I’m about to propose. “For Gunnar to marry Aisling.”

His frown shifts into a laugh, a genuine amusement lighting up those eyes that have seen far too many shadows. He leans back against the doorframe, arms crossed, a picture of ease but there’s a sharpness there—a readiness—that speaks of his alpha nature. I hear footsteps in the bedroom, soft voice, then a shower turning on—there’s no chance Aisling and Gunnar will hear us from in the bathroom.

“Maybe you should ask them?” he suggests, a hint of challenge in his tone, but his grin tells me he’s on board. It’s a strange camaraderie we’ve stitched together, but it’s real and raw and right now, it feels like it could carry us through anything—even this.

I nod, more sure of this than anything else. “Yeah, we’ll ask. But you think it’ll work?”

“Ask and you shall receive,” Luka says with a wink, then shrugs nonchalantly. “Or so they say. But yeah, I reckon it will. We’re all in this tangled mess together, might as well tie a knot and make it official.”

“Was that a pun?” Oberon chides Luka.

Luka rolls his eyes. “Absolutely not.”

“Good—because I was about to say Rook must be rubbing off on you.”

There’s a beat of silence, a current of understanding that flows between us. We all want what’s best for Aisling, for the pack.

And somehow, despite the chaos that is our existence, this feels like a step toward something resembling stability.

“What if we surprised them?” Oberon asks suddenly. “Tell them we should all go out to dinner, get to know each other…make sure Rook is in the loop. I don’t want to surprise him.”

“All good by me,” I tell Oberon as Luka nods along. “I trust your judgment.”

“I’m already texting him,” Luka says, and I glance over to see him picking up his phone off a table by the window. “He’s on his way.”

“Great,” I say with a grin. This feels crazy—as I guess most shotgun weddings do—but it also feels right. “So…are you all ready to walk our girl down the aisle?”

Oberon smiles. “More than ready,” he says. “I think we’ve all earned a little bit of joy for once.”

Chapter twenty

Aisling

“Where the hell are we going?” I grumble, casting a sidelong glance at Nero who strides ahead of us like he’s leading a parade. The street hums with life, the neon signs flickering their siren calls, but my gut churns with unease.

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