Big Bad Wolf (The Lycans 1)

We both knew one thing for certain, my wolf and me.

She was ours.

29

Mikalina

Several weeks later

I stared at myself, and the woman in the reflection looked scared shitless.

Wide eyes. Pale flesh. Ruby-red lips. A trembling body.

A mating ceremony. A sacred ritual when a Lycan found his mate. This was important to Ren—to his kind—and even if I was scared of the unknown, I was excited about the prospect of starting this new life.

The dress I wore was this light-blue color, sheer and ultra-feminine. The bodice was lacy, accenting my breasts, and screamed innocence. The material flowed down my legs from the bodice, pooling at the ground. My feet were bare, apparently what the female was supposed to do, as Lycan’s were of the earth, their beasts of Mother Nature.

I ran my fingers along the beading detail that was sporadically placed along the skirting. It was the most gorgeous dress I’d ever seen, something I would have picked out for myself. But what shocked me the most was that Ren had this gown made specially for his mate—for me—centuries before.

Even thinking that, knowing he’d been anticipating meeting me his entire life, had me falling more in love with my big wolf-shifting mate. I had a feeling it would always be a little surreal.

I smoothed my hands over the soft, silky material once more and stared at the mark on my neck. It had since healed, but the scar would forever faintly cover my throat, and I felt a thrill at that. To think this mark would have my aging stall, allowing me to spend year after year, century after century, with Ren was… fantastical.

My heart skipped in my chest at that thought.

I sensed him before he even said a word and lifted my head to look over my shoulder, seeing my big, strong Lycan standing in the doorway. Ren took up the entire space, his shoulders so wide, his chest so broad. He looked so damn good as he watched me with barely restrained heat in his eyes.

He wore a crisp white shirt, the first few buttons undone at the collar to show off his masculine, tan throat. His gray slacks weren’t flashy, but I knew they were made just for him, uniquely tailored, and expensive as hell.

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect tonight, just knew this was something very special and sacred to Ren’s kind. And since this was my world now, I was more than happy to participate in anything he wanted. I wanted to fully immerse myself in this life.

“Come here, my female.” His voice was a low rumble, and I shivered in response, walking up to him without any hesitation at all.

He held his arms out to me, and I went into them so very willingly, sinking against the hard planes of his chest, my head barely reaching his pectoral muscles. And he just held me, whispering words in his native language, ones that I knew were endearments, sweet things about starting our life together, about loving me.

He told me the mating ceremony went far beyond human marriage. Even if we hadn’t done an actual ceremony, there was no breaking the bond we had, the mark he’d given me. We were forever linked. And I believed that—felt it—with all my heart.

Just looking at him now made a flush rise up right underneath my skin. My body became hyperaware, the blood rushing through my veins. And my heart picked up speed.

I tipped my head back and smiled at him, and he lifted a hand to cup the side of my face, smoothing his thumb along my cheek, his eyes flashing blue as his animal rose up.

“I love you,” I whispered, and he closed his eyes and groaned as if those three words were the very best thing he’d ever heard.

“And I love you. So much you make me ache in the best of ways.”

Now it was my turn to smile as a giddiness filled me.

“Are you ready for this? Are you ready for forever?”

I opened my eyes, feeling soft and warm, protected against him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more ready for anything in my life.”

And I hadn’t been. He was my future… the one I’d been patiently waiting for.

30

Ainslee

I felt out of place, but then again, I guess in a way I was in a whole other world. Romania, especially in these little villages, was so unlike the Highlands I called home. But this country was definitely beautiful nonetheless.

I’ve always felt out of place, have I not?

I moved around the room, keeping to the walls, because I felt slightly claustrophobic. I saw my father and mother. The love they had for each other was so very real.

My father, King of the Scottish Lycan Clan, had found his mate in my mother, an American vampire who’d been living in Eastern Europe since she turned eighteen over a century before. Their meeting had been nothing short of happenstance, luck of the draw, a strike of fate, or one of the many other sayings my father liked to use to describe them meeting.