Page 49 of Sacrifice

He reaches out, running his fingers along the delicate embroidery of a silvery gown. “You’d look incredible in any of these. But this one…” He pulls the hanger free, holding it up against me. “This one’s special.”

“Like a star shining in the night,” I murmur, gazing at the way the fabric seems to catch the light and twinkle.

“Exactly.” His smile is tender now, devoid of any teasing. “Like the Stargazer you are.”

The nickname sends a shiver of pride through me, not of fear or apprehension but of ownership—of who I am, of who we are together. This might be moving fast, but it feels right in a way few things ever have.

Tonight, I’m marrying Gunnar.

And I have my whole pack here with me.

Chapter twenty-one

Gunnar

I’m staring at the rings like they’re alien tech—glittering, confusing, and damn expensive. I grunt, shifting uneasily on my feet, feeling like an intruder in this upscale boutique that smells like money and snobbery. Oberon and Luka are out there somewhere, probably shooting the shit and talking about how lucky I am…and here I am, trying to pick out jewelry.

“Damn, I could use a woman’s eye for this,” I mutter under my breath, picturing Aisling’s grey gaze that always seemed to see right through me. What would she want on her finger? Something as bright as her smile? As unique as her spirit?

Nero leans in, his presence a strange comfort despite everything. He plucks three rings from the display with the ease of someone who knows luxury, and I can’t help but raise an eyebrow.

The guy’s got taste, I’ll give him that.

“Thoughts?” Nero asks, holding them up between us, each catching the light and throwing sparks like tiny stars.

“Shit, man, I don’t know.” I rub the back of my neck, frustration knotting in my muscles. “They all look…sparkly.”

He chuckles, shaking his head—a silent ‘you hopeless alpha’ without saying a word. “Think about Aisling, Gunnar. Her style, her laugh, her skin…”

I do think about her, more often than I’d like to admit, but never in relation to something as delicate as jewelry.

“Remember how she looks when she’s truly happy,” Nero continues. “The shimmer in her eyes when you crack one of your god-awful jokes. The glow on her skin when she’s lost beneath you, legs tangled with yours, the world fading away…”

It’s like he’s flipped a switch inside me, and suddenly I’m there—in those intimate moments where Aisling’s laughter is a melody that fills the room, her satisfaction an aura that bathes us both in its light. My heart hammers as memories flood in, each one a piece to this puzzle of choosing the perfect ring for her.

“Focus on that feeling,” Nero continues, voice softer now. “Which one of these echoes that shine?”

I stare down at the trio of rings again, each beautiful yet so different. One, in particular, draws me in—a ring that seems to capture the essence of the night sky. Its round center stone is surrounded by black diamonds that glint with a dark inner fire.

“This one,” I say, voice firmer than I expect. It’s not just a choice; it’s a realization, a knowing deep in my bones that this ring belongs on Aisling’s finger.

Nero studies the ring and then nods, approval lighting his eyes. “That’s the one. Fits her, doesn’t it? Like it was crafted with her in mind.”

“Sure does,” I agree, warmth spreading through me from the pride in his gaze. It’s strange, finding such kinship with Nero—once my enemy, now one of my greatest friends. But here, in this small victory, it feels like we’re more aligned than ever.

“Good choice,” Nero says, clasping my shoulder briefly before he turns to flag down the clerk. It’s a simple gesture, but it resonates—a signal of solidarity between two alphas who’ve found common ground in the strangest of places.

I nod, watching as Nero converses with the clerk. “Put it on my tab,” he mutters, and there’s that edge of brashness I’ve come to expect from him. Our shoulders bump—an unspoken ‘you’re welcome’—as he hands over his card. The clerk processes the transaction, packaging the ring with reverence before ushering us toward a private room.

“Let’s get you suited up, big guy,” Nero smirks, pushing open the door to a room that smells faintly of cedar and leather.

I step inside, my hands suddenly clumsy as I pick up the suit we chose earlier. It’s a sleek thing, dark as midnight and probably more expensive than anything I’ve ever owned. A deep breath steadies me as I shrug into the jacket, but when I reach for the black tie, my fingers betray me, fumbling the silken length like it’s a foreign object.

“Here,” Nero says, stepping into my personal space with an ease born of familiarity. His hands are deft where mine are useless, working the fabric into a perfect knot under my collar. “You know, you could just wear a clip-on.”

“And risk Aisling’s judgment? Never,” I grunt, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth despite the tension in my chest. There’s something about the way he’s standing so close, the heat of his body, the scent that is uniquely his—a mix of cologne and alpha—that stirs memories of the night we all made love.

I…enjoyed it. More than I expected.

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